Ricochet (7 page)

I can deal with my sister in my business, but her boyfriend
who thinks he’s always right…well, that was a little hard to swallow.

I’m adjusting to it. Even if it’s incredibly weird. For years,
Lo was the only one who knew my secrets, and now I have three more people
keeping the news quiet. It’s a lot to handle.

And definitely too much to process.

“Yeah,” Connor says, “penis envy and psychosexual
development.”

“You’re so off base. My sister doesn’t have penis envy—that
implies that she could possibly have the Electra complex.”

I cringe, knowing what
that
is. I have no craving to hook up with my father. No thank you.

“I never said she had it,” he says easily, not defensive
like most men with Rose, a girl who attacks full force, eyes icy and hard,
ready to combat with claws and power. I love her for it. And whenever they
bicker, I’m inwardly waving Rose Calloway flags, cheering for my closest sister
to come out on top. “But your sister is a sex addict. Whose theories are you
going to start with? Aristotle? The Hamburgler? Or how about Erik Erikson? Lily
has a thing about names.”

Rose gives him a sharp look. “The Hamburgler, really?”

“Freud pioneered psychoanalysis. You discredit him and that’s
when the McDonald’s references start flying.”
 

She slaps his laptop closed, and he rests an arm on the back
of the couch, turning towards her a little. I have to edge back behind the
wall, concealing more of my body from view.

Connor has rosy pink lips, thick wavy brown hair, and a
smile worth the millions in his trust fund. “Yes?” he says, eyeing her lips
that pinch tightly.

Rose wears her brown hair in a slicked back ponytail. Her
yellowish-green, cat-colored eyes pierce him. “The psychosexual theory has a
way of picturing women as broken, inefficient toys that need to be fixed.”

“I know,” Connor says. “A lot of it is misogynistic, but
it’s interesting, don’t you think?”

“No. I find it infuriating.”

His lips quirk in a smile. “Just like me?”

She rolls her eyes, but she sort of lingers there as she
refuses to lose contact completely. I can tell she wants to kiss him, maybe
just as much as he wants to kiss her. But then she turns her head, breaking the
moment. Just like Rose to push a guy away. Sometimes I think she fears a lack
of power that comes in a relationship, as though she may lose some sort of
advantage if she lets Connor in.

He doesn’t look defeated. In fact, his eyes pulse with the
exact opposite. Determined. Challenged.

A hair falls from its hold in her pony, and Rose tucks it
behind her ear. “I think I’m onto something here. This psychologist suggests
that sexual addiction can be closely related to obsessive compulsive disorder.
If I look into OCD, then maybe I’ll have a better understanding of what Lily is
going through.”

“
We
,” he says.

Rose’s brows furrow. “What?”

“You said ‘if
I
look
into OCD.’ I told you I want to help, so I’m going to help. Lily is my friend
too.” He shifts so their bodies press a little closer, and Rose’s laptop sits on
each of their legs. They seem to be having a “moment” so I decide to make a
quiet exit and head into the kitchen, but as I turn, one of the DVDs on the top
of my bin slides off and clatters to the wooden floor.

I freeze, my eyes widening as their necks turn. I’m a deer
caught in their headlights.
Please don’t
say anything. Let me drift away and pretend we didn’t meet gazes.

No such luck.

Rose shuts her laptop so I can’t see her screen, and she
rises from the couch, smoothing down her dress with her hands. “What are you
doing up? I thought you took a sleeping pill.” And then her eyes wander to the
DVDs in the trash bin.

“I haven’t taken one yet,” I say, avoiding Connor. His
presence has increased the volume of my embarrassment. And yet, both of them
act completely innocent, as if this isn’t out of the ordinary. Why am I always
the one to roast a new shade of red?

“What’s that?” Rose wanders over to my frozen state by the
archway, straddling the space between the granite kitchen and the living room.
Connor stands and puts his hands in the pockets of his slacks, casual. Having
your girlfriend’s sister carry an overflowing bin of porn is
so
normal.

“I was tossing it,” I tell her as she inspects the DVDs with
a quick glance.

“What brought this on?” Rose asks, but something hopeful
flickers in her eyes. She can see that I’m trying, and my chest floats, feeling
a little better by her reaction.

“I just thought it was time to get rid of it all.”

“That’s the rest?” Connor asks, sidling to Rose. His
presence drives knots in my stomach—the way he stands a good four inches taller
than Rose, more than that for me. His strong, muscular build reminds me of what
I’m missing.

Uncomfortable, I take a step backwards and shun their gazes.
“I’m going to trash this and then head back upstairs.”

Rose must read me too well because she uses her arm to push
Connor back. “You need to go.”

“Rose, she’s fine. She can’t be afraid of men forever. And
anyway, she attended a party with male models. How am I any different than one
of them?” I catch him flashing his impeccable smile.

“You did not just compare yourself to a high fashion model.”

“I did.”

Rose stares at the ceiling like
oh my God.
“You want to know how many times in a day I question why
I’m with you?”

“Five times.”

“A hundred.”

“If you told me you were going to exaggerate, I would have
picked that, but I thought we were being realistic here, hun.”

I snort. “Smooth.”

Connor gestures to me. “See, she’s fine.”

Rose sets her hands on her hips and looks to me for a final
verdict. If I said no, she’d toss out Connor. And Connor is kind of right, as
much as I hate to admit that. I shouldn’t be scared of the opposite sex being
so close. Even if I have been a bit jumpy after New Year’s.

“He can stay,” I tell her.

Her eyes narrow at me like I chose the wrong answer.

I mouth,
what?

She makes a small motion with her head to Connor. Did
she
not want him over here anymore? But
then I see Connor and he’s—no lie—grinning from ear to ear, as though he won
the Academic Bowl Tournament against Princeton, Rose’s college (and now mine).

She lost that tiff, I see.

“I’ll help you with your porn,” Connor says. He goes into
the kitchen to find a trash bag while I try to wipe that line clean from
memory. I set the bin on the floor and wait for Rose to explode. Her face
scrunches like she’s ready to give birth.

When Connor disappears into the pantry, Rose lets loose. “I
can’t stand him,” she says. “Honestly, he drives me nuts, Lily.”

I try really hard not to laugh. Rose and Connor broke up
five times in December. I’m suspecting that number to double in January. They
both call it quits and then they’ll reunite in a couple days. It’s as cute as
it is exhausting.

“I think you drive him crazy too,” I tell her. “And I mean
this in the Britney Spearian sense.” I hum the nineties tune and sing the
chorus. Her face darkens, not amused. I can’t help but laugh. That’s Rose for
you.

Her shoulders relax as she takes in the DVDs again. “Are you
sure you want to do this?”

“Yeah,” I say quickly, not wanting to think too much about
the giant leap. I’d rather race towards the finish line than slow crawl right
now. Which is why I nervously tap my foot, waiting for Connor to hurry back
with the bag that’ll seal my fate. Hopefully I’ll trample the urge to buy new
films in the future or click into dirty sites on the internet. I think I can do
it. I
hope.
That’s all I really have
at the moment.

“So…” I say, nervously twiddling my fingers. “…you think I
have OCD?” It would make sense, sort of. I do relate my sexual needs to
compulsions. The
need
to obtain that
natural high. Kind of like an obsessive compulsive’s
need
to follow their systematic routine. I just never related the
two.

“Some psychologists believe that addictions correlate with
OCD, but I can’t diagnose you,” Rose says truthfully. “You really need to visit
the therapist—”

“I know,” I cut her off. “I know, I just…I haven’t decided
which one I want to go to.” Who knew there were so many sex addiction
therapists in the area? And I already searched for a Sex Addicts Anonymous
group and came up completely blank. Since most groups consist of men trying to
thwart their sexual cravings, they have a strict no-female policy. It makes
sense, but it has also made it nearly impossible to find an SAA that accepts
women. I’ve given up the hunt for now and plan to do one-on-one therapy.

There are also in-treatment facilities for sex addiction.
Rehab, like Lo. But Rose squashed those as an option pretty quickly. She really
wouldn’t give me a definite answer, and after beating around the bush, she
blurted out that I have social anxiety. That I shouldn’t be in large groups
trying to fix my problem.

Yesterday, I rebutted, “I don’t have social anxiety.” And in
the same instance, I was nervously pacing my room.

She tilted her head with raised eyebrows. “When’s the last
time you were in a group setting?”

“Lots of times,” I told her. “I go to clubs, Rose. People
are
everywhere.
”

“But are you forced to talk to them? Do you talk to
anyone
other than Lo? Really, Lily,
think about it. Do you even bring up a conversation with your one-night stands
or do you just give them a look and screw them?”

She was right. Maybe I do have social anxiety. And according
to Rose, I should concentrate on one thing at a time. I also think she’d rather
look after me than send me away. She’d go crazy not knowing what exactly the
rehab’s program would be or what they would do. So right now, therapy is the
best solution.

“I’m working on that for you,” Rose tells me. “I have a
meeting with two tomorrow.” Literally, she has been setting up appointments
just to quiz the therapists. I love her more than she knows. “The last guy was
a complete idiot. I asked him about cognitive behavioral therapy and he gave me
a blank stare. I’m not lying.”

Connor approaches with the trash bag. “She’s not,” he adds.
“I was there.”

My cheeks redden, but they hardly notice. Or maybe they just
don’t care. Yeah, that has to be it.

Before I can put the DVDs in the bag myself, Connor picks
the bin from the floor and dumps it into the garbage. The fact that he’s in
close contact to my porn has seriously knotted my stomach and heated my entire
chest.

Connor says to Rose, “That last man was a complete asshat.”

She hesitates to agree with him, though I can tell she does.

“What’d he do?”

Connor ties the bag and sets it by the wall. He casts a
furtive glance in Rose’s direction, all secrets, something that I had with Lo.
My heart sinks, but I push the thoughts away quickly.

“Well, we showed up to the therapist’s office, and Rose
introduced herself and told him her sexual problems—”

“Wait…” I hold up my hands, my eyes bugging. I look between
the two of them, and they stand as though nothing is out of the ordinary. As
though this story is fucking normal! I blink at Rose. “You did not pretend to
be me, did you?”

She shakes her head. “Of course not, Lily.”

I exhale.
Good.
That
would be embarrassing.

“I told him that I was a sex addict, but I gave him my
personal information. You’re fine.”

Oh my God. “Why would you want to do that?”

She shrugs. “It was the only way this man would see me. I
had to be a patient first.”

I cringe, refusing to look at Connor. I’m more shamed for
her than I should be. I realize this may be what I feel soon. Maybe even
tenfold. “And what happened?”

Rose scrutinizes my reaction and immediately closes a short
gap between our bodies. She puts her hand on my shoulder. “You don’t need to
hear this. Not every therapist is like him, and I promise you, Lily, that I
would never send you to one that I didn’t think was absolutely perfect.”

Right, but a glimmer of fear still strikes me cold. “Still,
I want to know.”

Connor puts a couple fingers to his lips, inspecting me the
same way my sister had, wondering if I can handle the truth.

“Please,” I add.

My pout must win them over—or at least Rose because she
breaks first. “He asked me what my sexual preferences were, and I told him that
I gravitate towards porn and one-night stands but nothing too kinky.” The
weekend Lo left for rehab, I actually professed to Rose most of my secrets. I
explained my habits of ditching family events (and even told her which ones)
for a quickie in the bathroom or hookup at a club. Nothing earthshattering. Get
in. Get high. Get out. That’s how I liked it with everyone but Loren Hale.

“And what happened?” I almost go to bite my fingernails, but
I decide to cross my arms instead, keeping my palms buried beneath.

“He went through a list of things, asking me if they turned
me on,” Rose says, unabashed.

Connor looks equally unaffected. God, they ooze confidence.
He chimes in, “Fingering, dildos, vibrators, head, anal, doggy style—”

“She gets it,” Rose snaps.

He grins back, and I swear they have another “moment”—Rose
looking like she wants to rip his face off, and Connor looking like he wants to
kiss her for it. So weird.

I rub my hot neck. “Have you guys
ever
been embarrassed?” If this is a smart-person superpower, I
totally want it.

Connor stares at the ceiling in thought. “Well, there was
that one time…actually, no…” He shakes his head. “No, that wasn’t me.” His dark
blue eyes meet mine. “I’m embarrassment free.”