Great, she asks me a question I’m not really sure how to answer. The truth—I spend more time consumed by sex than I do taking care of myself. In my defense, I am short. If Daisy became a size 0, she’d fade away and need to be hospitalized.
“She’s always been skinny,” Daisy answers for me with ease.
“You know, I’ve never been able to tell if guys are into the whole size zeroskinnylook,” Cleo says with a false politeness. She might as well have said “emaciated” instead of skinny. She has to know her words are beyond rude.
Her pretty blue eyes flash to Ryke, who’s pretending to be busy watching a basketball game on the hanging television. “Right, Ryke?”
His eyes stay glued to the screen as he confirms with a simple “yep.”
Cleo holds onto the word like it’s bait. “Are you into size zero girls?”
This is so fucking awkward! I shift uncomfortably in my seat, and Daisy lets out a long exasperated sigh. “Cleo?—”
“What?” Cleo says with a nonchalant shrug. “I just want a male perspective on the situation. I only have younger sisters, okay? I’m curious.”
Ryke turns a fraction, his gaze still hidden behind wayfarers. “My brother loves her, so obviously some guys are into skinny girls. Everyone has a different preference.”
Harper interjects with a little too much eagerness. “What’s yours?”
I imagine he’s rolling his eyes right about now. Damn, sunglasses, I’d actually like to see him break in front of a few girls. How is he going to handle all twenty together?
He doesn’t miss a beat. “I like women. Big breasts, curvy waists, an ass I can grab.” He keeps steady, unflinching. I am cringing inside and slightly aghast that he even responded back. Daisy’s friends look around at each other, realizing that they all have tiny hips, decent-sized boobs and no butt.
Daisy scrutinizes Ryke for a while and then says, “How big of boobs?”Ohmygod.
“How about we change the subject?” I say.
“Big,” Ryke tells her.
“You like to grab those too?” Daisy tries. Her friends literally gasp out loud.
Ryke’s lip twitches, but he holds back what Ithinkis a smile. I’m glad he finds this amusing. I do not. At all. This is like…no. If Lo was here, he’d have yelled at his brother for flirting back with an almost-sixteen-year-old. That’s what Ryke’s doing. Even if his intentions are to start an argument or make someone uncomfortable, it looks likeflirting.“Only if I hear a woman moan when I do it.”
“Ryke!” I shout at him. I mouth,enough.My eyes widen to emphasize the severity. I know he’s not intentionally trying to flirt back, but he’s about to cross a line. And I suspect he knows it exists, and that he’s crossed many in his life. Maybe he thinks traditional rules don’t apply to him. Or maybe, he just doesn’t care.
Daisy opens her mouth to say something back, but he cuts her off, “There’s your male perspective.” He turns back to the television, closing off to the girls.
Cleo isn’t finished harassing me though. “About Loren Hale, he’s in rehab, right? My parents heard from some family friends.” She nods to the Katy Perry girl. “You remember Greta? Her parents found a dime of coke and she got sent to rehab. It’s like they don’t understand that we’re young, and we want to have some fun. They’ve done it before.”
“Yeah,” Katy says. “It’s so hypocritical.”
I hate that they’re comparing Lo to a teenager screwing around. That’s how it starts, sure, but his problem has exceeded a small dose of adolescent rebellion. It’s not ashamethat he’s in rehab. It’s what my father said…admirable.
“He chose to go,” I defend my boyfriend, heat gathering in my eyes. “He wants to get help.” Which is a better place than where we were before.
The lounge silences in this awkward layer, and Cleo presses her lips together, avoiding my narrowed gaze. Thankfully, the snacks parade over on a tray, rescuing me from the tense situation. The girls start chatting again, and I look to Ryke. He gives me a supportive nod, which means more to methan I’lleverlet on. I want to do this right. I want to be strong and fight, and being on this boat is a big step.
Last time I was here, I was a mess. This is my redo.
Daisy grabs her sub, and her long hair sticks to the tuna that squeezes from the sides. She plops the sandwich back on the tray and uses a napkin to wipe the strands. “I hate my hair,” she mutters under her breath.
“Ever heard of a ponytail?” Ryke says to her. His antagonizing is not helping. After New Year’s I realized her “signature trait” brings up insecurities.
“Yeah,” Daisy snaps back, “want me to putyourhair in one?”
Cleo shakes her head. “He doesn’t have enough hair for that.” She bites into a strawberry.
“You could always make really tiny ones all over his head,” Harper chimes in.
