Kiss the Sky (38 page)

The door shuts. But the tension never leaves. I don’t think
it ever will.

Not until the cameras finally stop rolling.
 

[ 33 ]

CONNOR COBALT

“She’s twenty-three, in a year-long relationship—”

“Over a year.”

“
Over
a year, and
she’s
never
had sex. Something is
wrong with that girl.”

I watch
TMZ
from
my office desk at Cobalt Inc. before I call it a night and head home. The
hallways are desolate, only a janitor left, vacuuming the gray carpet in the
break room.

“She definitely has herpes,” a reporter from one of the cubicles
says. And the newsroom breaks into laughter. “What else explains it?”

The Alps trip aired last night on GBA. No mention of Rose
losing her virginity. But if she saw
TMZ
slandering
her right now, she’d be pissed. They’re shaming every girl her age who wishes
to wait.

Rose had no problem with production keeping her virginity a
secret. But on the plane ride home, just to test Scott—to see what he would
do—she stared right into one of the cameras and professed that she had sex with
me. It let Lily off the hook, who had been so unnaturally quiet in fear of
spilling the secret to the whole world.

He never showed the footage, probably to keep her “virgin”
label on the show intact. And because I’m everyone’s least favorite choice to
be with Rose. Her mother so much as said so on the phone. That was one of the
hardest conversations I’ve had. I wanted to tell her off, but I bit my tongue
and stomached her chiding about not being more caring towards my girlfriend,
her daughter.

I mentioned bad editing
once
and she scoffed and told me to stop using excuses. So I just said, “
I’m sorry, Samantha. I’ll be better about
it.
” And she threatened, “
You better.
Or I’ll convince Rose to give Scott another chance, which he deserves.
”

She truly believes that they dated before. It’s…a new level
of insanity for me.

I hate Scott.

But at least he never ruined some of the best sex I’ve ever
had. I just want to go home and fuck Rose, forget about all this bullshit and
do something that makes both of us feel good. But time isn’t on our side. I
fight for more constantly. Wharton is killing me. Cobalt Inc. is manageable. But
I’m lucky to make it home by two a.m. each night before she falls asleep.

I stand and gather any papers, stuffing them into a
briefcase. Before I leave, I flip through the channels one last time and land
on a rerun of
Princesses of Philly
. I
caught a portion of it before, but not this part—where Lo pins Lily on the
couch at the cabin. Where he passionately kisses her lips, bringing her into
his arms each time he draws her up with a strong inhale.

But his eyes lock on the camera as he does it. As though
he’s literally
fucking
the viewers
with his mouth. I rub my lips and try not to laugh. Rose would be infuriated,
but Lo has done this so often. I’ve seen a few bumper stickers around Philly
that say
Fuck me, Loren Hale.
Especially
after Lily’s latest interview aired. She went into a lengthy explanation about
how Loren is the only man able to satisfy all of her sexual needs.

Celebrity Crush
even
wrote an article, trying to determine the size of his dick. It was horrible
journalism, but it’s articles like those that really put into perspective how
popular the reality show has become.

And how famous we all suddenly are.

Lily can’t even watch herself make out with Lo during these
segments. He covers her eyes. It’s that arousing for her.

I shut off the television, flick off my lights and swallow a
couple Adderall. I have a half-completed Wharton project for a management class
left to finish. I want to say “hell with it” and have rough sex with my
girlfriend instead.

Tying her up and watching her come beats every other task on
my to-do list. My body heats just remembering her face the first time I filled
her with my cock. Her mouth fell open, and she choked on some of the most
gorgeous sounds.

I’ve never felt like she belonged to me more than in that
moment. She let me do whatever I wanted to her body, all trust, no barriers or
restrictions. I took her as hard as I knew she could withstand, her tightness
gripping my cock in a vice that I don’t ever want to forget.

Which is why I plan to go home and do it again.
 

The elevator is in sight, and I’m already picturing what
position I’ll put her in. Face down on the mattress. Hands tied behind her
back.

I think I’ll spank her.

“Connor!”

I stop dead in the hallway. There’s only one person who
could ruin these beautiful thoughts. Only one other person who’d be working
while the janitor finishes his routine. I turn around to confront my mother who
quickly approaches me with determined steps.

“I just put my proposal on your desk,” I tell her.
Let me go,
I silently plead.

“I got it,” she says breezily. “I scheduled a reservation at
L’Bleu
on Saturday. Seven o’clock. Bring Rose.” She
spins and disappears down the hall, leaving no chance for an excuse.

Something foreign presses against my chest. I think it might
be anxiety. I open my phone to call Frederick, but I see a missed text instead.

Come home now, please.
We have a Lily and Loren problem. –
Rose

Shit.

I don’t let my imagination try to predict what kind of problem
that could be. I just make a quick exit to the elevator and brace myself for
what’s to come.

* * *

As soon as I walk through the door, I spot Lily
and Lo curled up on the couch, reading a comic silently together. “Problems”
with those two usually involve screaming, maybe even crying. It’s odd. But I
try not to pass judgment until I know the facts.

Before I can even begin to question them, Rose marches down
the stairs and grabs my wrist with a lot of force, fire blazing in her eyes. I
should be more concerned about the shit storm she’s going to unleash, but my
cock has its own agenda, painfully begging for her to redirect that pressure.
She tries to lead me to the second level, but I pry her fingers off my wrist.

“I think I know where the bedroom is,” I say.

Her lips tighten in a line, and she blushes. “We’re not
having sex right now.”

I tilt my head, my brows pinching. “All I meant was that I
can lead myself upstairs. I said nothing about sex.” I pass her on the stairs
and walk in front of her.

She huffs. “We don’t have time to accommodate your ego.”
She’s pissed that I took precious time away from the dire situation.

She tries to pass me on the stairs, and I hold out my arm
and give her a look.

“Move faster!” she commands.

“Is the townhouse on fire? Did someone steal your shoe
collection?” I ask with a growing smile.

Her neck is so stiff. She barely even inhales. “I’m going to
slap you.”

I actually think she may.

I’m too curious about the Lily and Lo drama to start that
fight, but it’s really tempting. I can already see her hand scorching my cheek.
And then I’d shove her against the wall, bite her lip, and fuck the anger out
of her, replacing it with content, vulnerable submission.

She finally exhales as she watches me, so deep that I know
she must see the longing in my eyes. But we can’t have sex in the hallway. It’s
rigged with cameras.

I break her gaze and go to the bedroom without another word.
She shuts the door behind us, and I notice
Ryke
already here, pacing in front of the bed with clenched fists. I recognize
Savannah’s Canon Rebel on the mattress. Before I can ask what the camera is
doing here, Rose explains.

“The tequila and wine are gone,” she tells me, her hands
planted firmly on her hips. She says she searched the house, and then
Ryke
found the bottles in
Lo’s
closet—empty and hidden beneath a pile of dirty clothes.

I blink a few times, trying to ignore emotions that want to
pummel me backwards. I’m not used to feeling so much from something that has no
direct effect on me, no cost that’ll weigh down my benefit.

“There wasn’t much in the tequila bottle. We spilt most of
it on our bed,” I remind Rose with an even voice, but a lump scratches my
throat. I have to cough into my fist to clear it.

“It doesn’t matter.” She points a finger at the door. “He’s
been sober for
sixteen months
.”

“I know.” Breaking his sobriety—it’s a big deal.

I turn on
Ryke
who fumes, trekking
forwards and backwards with hostility.

“And you haven’t stormed downstairs to confront your
brother?” I ask in disbelief.

He stops in the middle of the room and points at the door
just
like my girlfriend did. “I’m so
fucking
close
,” he growls. “But
that’s exactly what those
dickfuckers
want.”

I cringe. “Can you not use that curse word? It’s
ridiculous.”

Both of them glare at me.

“I’ll take cocksucker for one-hundred,” I banter, hoping to
ease
Ryke’s
flexed muscles and Rose’s hot-tempered
eyes. But I realize it’s more for me. I’m dodging. I never dodge. I just don’t
want it to be true. I don’t want Lo to drink again and go down that dark path.
I can’t save that kid from his demons, and watching him drown is not a show I
want a front row seat to.

Ryke
chooses to ignore me,
finishing his rant, “They want me to scream at Lo, and then the whole world
will think he’s relapsing like an irresponsible rich prick. And maybe he is…”
Ryke
rests his hands on his head, breathing heavily.

“You don’t believe that,” I say.

His features break, and his eyes glass as he shakes his
head. “Every day I think,
that could be
me.
I spent twenty-two fucking years with my head up my ass,” he says. “I
didn’t give a shit about my fucking half-brother who I
knew
was living with our father—
our
father…” He can’t say the rest out loud.

Rose stares at
Ryke
with the most
empathy I’ve seen her convey, her face pained like his. My stomach is in knots,
and I don’t know how to untighten it.

 
Production never airs
these intimate, painful details—the parts that shape us into the people we are.
I think we all hide them too often. Sometimes from each other.

Lo has been verbally abused by their father all his life,
and
Ryke
escaped it.

That’s the truth.

It’s what we all know.

If production truly wanted to show
all
of
Ryke
Meadows, they’d tell the
viewers that he spent his last year in college helping his half-brother get
sober. That he stopped hanging out with college buddies, going to parties for
athletes, just to make sure that Loren didn’t turn out like their alcoholic
father, to guide him towards a better road.

I admire
Ryke
for many reasons.
But I think this is the greatest one: Loren Hale is the bastard child that
destroyed
Ryke’s
family. Their father got another
woman pregnant, conceiving Lo. And
Ryke
subsequently
lived with his single mother after the divorce. Yet,
Ryke
stands here today, wanting only to protect a guy who was the catalyst for his
broken life.

But
Ryke
doesn’t even understand
the impact he’s had on
Lo’s
life. He really can’t see
all the good he’s done. Because he’s not finished blaming himself for being so
selfish those first twenty-two years, for ignoring Lo because he was attached
to their father by blood and proximity.

He needs to forgive himself. I’m not sure how long that’ll
take, if it will ever come to pass. We just have to wait and see.

Ryke
rubs his reddened eyes. He
looks like he needs to scream. Or maybe kick something. “I don’t know what to
fucking do.”

“
Ryke
,” I say calmly, filling my
voice with the most reassurance it can handle. “If he’s relapsing, you’re not
alone in this. We’re going to help you take care of him.”

Ryke
nods to himself, trying to
believe this.

I want to add,
You
didn’t fail your brother.
But it sounds trite and cliché. But it’s also
true.

“That’s not all,” Rose says, her voice slightly shaking.

Fuck.

She heads over to the mattress and picks up Savannah’s
camera.

It’s Lily.

Whatever’s on there—it has to do with her sister.

We lock eyes for a second before she adjusts the screen, the
volume and the playback. Sometimes I feel as though Lily and Lo are the heart
of us all. When they go down, a force inside of us slowly decides to break.
It’s a painful reminder that we’re all human; we all have foibles and no matter
how hard we think we’re keeping ourselves together—it’s other people that can
hurt us the most.

Love is an asshole. Or a bitch. I wonder how long we’ve been
fighting each other.

I watch the screen as Rose hits the “play” button.

Lily and Lo are at a bookstore—a rarity for them. Usually
they’re holed up in their rooms or they hide out at Loren’s office where he’s
trying to build a publishing company for comic books and graphic novels.

I watch as Lily pulls Lo into the
public
bathroom.

Shit.

They have rules based on Lily’s recovery plan. No public sex
is one of the big ones. Savannah films from outside the door, but the audio
picks up their voices from the microphones they wear underneath their clothes.