MOST NIGHTS, I pass out after sex, willing on sleep to avoid any communication with the other guy. As this bliss seeps away, I can’t close my eyes. My head spins from the event, desperately trying to quantify what just happened.
Lo silently climbs off the bed and tugs on a pair of black boxer-briefs over his bare ass. He rescues a fallen bottle of bourbon and a glass from the counter. I tighten the navy sheets to my chest, and he hops on the bed, the mattress bucking underneath me.
More gently, he takes a seat at the foot.
He wants to talk. I suppose I do too. I think it may be where we went wrong the first time.
“Thanks,” I say first.
His eyes flicker from the dark liquid to me. “I didn’t do it all for you, you know?”
“I know.”
He licks his lips. “Where is your head at?”
“I’m confused,” I say truthfully. “I think I’ve been confused for a long time. I haven’t known if you’ve been playing into our lie or if you really mean to touch me the way you do.” Saying that feels really good.
He looks at me deeply. “I’ve wanted to have sex with you again since the first time,” he admits. “But you had all these rules, and I didn’t want to be the clichéd horny guy trying to abuse your addiction. So I was waiting for you to ask me to do it again.”
I frown. Why didn’t I? “I thought it was part of the lie. I thought you were just pretending.” How could I know that he wanted more?
His jaw locks and he shakes his head. “I’ve never pretended, Lil. We’ve been together, even if you thought it was some fucking lie. We just weren’t having sex.” He stares at his glass. “On bad days, I’d touch you more than I should, I admit. Like when Daisy spent the night, but I was hoping you’d finally open your eyes and realize that I was there. You didn’t have to suffer or go be fulfilled by some other guy. I was right in front of you.”
“I just thought you were teasing me.”
He nods. “I know. It didn’t work how I planned.” He swishes the alcohol in his glass, staring. “I understand your addiction, and I’m only bothered by the other guys when I tempt you to that place. I blame myself for making you aroused, hoping that you’ll finish with me. But you never do, and in the end, some lucky bastard gets what I want. I had everything with you, the good and bad parts of a real relationship, except the sex.” He inhales deeply. “I wanted it, but on your terms.”
“You’ve been waiting around for six years,” I say, staring off. Six years of miscommunication. One of us could have opened up. Instead we let the tension build between us, growing a lie.
“The worst part was hearing you.” He shakes his head. “You know, I’d stay awake, listening to you, wondering if your cries would turn terrified, wondering if some guy decided to take advantage or hurt you. But I can’t…” He pauses on the words.
But I know. “You can’t tell me to stop.” Because it’s hypocritical. He won’t quit drinking, not for me, not for anything.
“Yeah.” He inspects me from a distance, taking in my body language after sex. “How was it for you?”
Amazing. “Do you want a rating or something?” I try to lighten the mood.
His face sharpens, all hard lines, all ice, all Loren Hale. “I’m open to criticism.” He finishes off his drink.
I can’t rate him. He’s literally not quantifiable on any chart. I have never trusted someone to take control and to do it so passionately. “You’re enough,” I tell him, my voice small, “but I can’t lie to you. I worry that in the future, you won’t be. And then what? I’ve never been committed to one guy, Lo. For you, I’d try, but…what if I fail?”
“You’ll still be having sex,” he says. “You’ll just be having crazy, mind-numbing sex with me. Every day. On your terms. And if you slip up, it’s okay.”
“No,” I immediately refute. “No, it’s not. If we’re together for real, I can’t cheat on you. That’s not okay.” I realize I have to try. No matter what, I have to try to make this work and to find everything I need within Lo. I think it’s possible, but it may be hard sometimes. “I’m going to need you, do you understand?”
Lo nods. “Of course, Lil.”
“So on the days that you drink yourself to sleep before eight o’clock, what am I supposed to do?”
“You’re making a compromise, and it’s only fair that I do the same. We’ll work out our schedules.” He rests his hand on my ankle, sending shivers up my spine. “I want to love you more than I love this”—he waves his bottle—“and I don’t know how else to do it unless there’s something to lose.” The stakes have become much greater. If I fail, that means I cheat on him. If he fails, that means he may drive me to cheat. Either way, we’ll be alone and empty. We’ve never entertained the idea of being together, in part because we were never ready to make small sacrifices, like less drinking, no more one-night stands. I’ll need to find the thrill elsewhere.
Three years later and drowning in lies, we’re suddenly prepared to lose everything for the chance at something real.
“So this is it then.” I skim his features, the firmness of his chest, the darkness in his expression, and the wanting in his eyes. “We wake up tomorrow and become an actual couple. No pretenses. I stay monogamous to you, and you cut back on the drinking to help me. Are you sure you want to do this? There’s no going back. If we break up…” Everything will change.
“Lily.” He sets his glass aside and scoots closer. He cups my face in his hands. His closeness still makes my heart flutter like I’ve never been touched by him before. That’s a good sign. “We’re terrible at so many things—remembering important dates, college, making friends—but the one thing we’ve always been halfway decent at is being together. We owe it to ourselves to try.”
“Okay,” I say in a small breath.
His smile grows and he kisses me hard, cementing our new deal—or breaking our old one. He directs my back into the nautical comforter, and I happily wrap my arms around him, holding on tight, and never letting go.
