Thrive (Addicted, #4)(16)

I groan.

Connor says, “Not surprised.”

“Look, I already had one of the girls swing by my place and pick them up on their way. Problem solved.” Probably Daisy…but I smother that suspicion. It shouldn’t matter if she was the one—they’re just friends. Like he said. I’d rather not put my doubts in Sam’s head either.

Ryke zips up his leather jacket. “And worry about yourself, Cobalt.”

“That’s the thing,” Connor says, “I don’t have to worry about myself.” He fits his black mask over his eyes and nose, shrouding half his face. “It’s called confidence, in case you were confused.”

“Sounds more like arrogance,” Ryke says.

“Closely related,” he says, not denying a thing.

Sam snaps his blue belt around his waist. “Poppy has my shield,” he says to Ryke, “so do you want to stop by the girls’ room with me?” He’s being all buddy-buddy with my brother, which has me a bit on guard.

Connor checks his watch on the bed. “Rose already texted me that they’re waiting on the ballroom level.” Everyone is pretty much ready except my brother, who’s been slacking. “Hurry up and shave, Ryke.”

“I’ll just meet you fucking down there.” Ryke heads to the bathroom.

“No,” Connor says. “A man never leaves his dog behind.”

Ryke flips him off, not turning around as he does so. He disappears in the bathroom.

Connor grins. We end up waiting for Ryke in the doorway. Sam leans his shoulder on the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. The expression he wears—the faint humor mixed with seriousness as his lips rise—fits his character too well.

“Captain America,” I say. “Aren’t you glad you left your four-year-old at home? She’d learn words like fuck off and fucking fuck all within the span of thirty minutes.”

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” Sam says.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I snap back.

“He’s your brother, right? Cut from the same cloth.”

I don’t curse as much as Ryke, not even close, but he’s saying that he’d be hesitant to let his child around me. I can’t do anything but glare.

Sam sighs, seeing that I’m taking offense to this. “I didn’t mean anything by it other than you’re both rough around the edges.” I don’t tear my gaze off him, and to throw up a white flag or maybe prove a point, he calls out to my brother, “Do you plan on procreating, Ryke?”

“Yeah,” Ryke shouts back. “And I hope my kid is a horrible influence on yours.”

Sam looks at me and outstretches his arms like am I right?

Yeah. My lips lift. Maybe he is.





{ 7 }

0 years : 02 months

October





LILY CALLOWAY


“Batman?” I stand beneath a towering figure with pink lips and broad shoulders. And I think: Please let this be Connor Cobalt. Within ten minutes, I lost my sisters among the costumed-clad masses. I was distracted by the best Ninja Turtle cosplay, of all things.

I’d search for the numerous Captain Americas and Black Widows, but it’s easy to tell which ones aren’t Sam and Poppy. Same goes for Cyclops—who’d be my first choice.

But the Batmans—I can’t discern from faraway. So this is my fifth attempt at rejoining my group.

The guy lowers his head a little so his blue eyes meet mine. And then he says in a deep voice, “I am Batman.”

Okaaay. “But do I know you?” I ask. I wish I could just be like: Hey, Connor, are you messing with me? I’d rather not shout his name too loudly. Even though “Connor” isn’t so original, people could put two and two together, right? And then they’ll figure out that I’m Lily Calloway.

I straighten my blonde wig in anxiety, hoping that the glitter on my face is a good enough disguise. If it was up to me, I’d be a pink Power Ranger—totally hidden from head-to-toe. However, Rose and Lo said I need to be partially exposed to the world because I can’t dress up all the time.

I feel fully exposed. I mean, these white spandex booty shorts are riding up and my top is nothing more than a boob corset with laces in the front.

And I think Batman may be checking out my cleavage, which is sparse. He can’t be Connor—

“Should I know you?” Batman asks like he has gravel in his throat.

“Nope,” I say. “I don’t think we’ve crossed paths before.” Off to find the next Batman. Or hopefully the right Scott Summers.

Just as I pass him, Batman sets a hand on my shoulder. “Wait, I do know you.” He broke character, his voice no longer abnormally low.

My eyes bug. “No you don’t.” I knew I should have been the Pink Ranger.

“Yes I do.” He smiles, which looks odd. Batman doesn’t smile like that.

“I’m no one,” I say stupidly and immediately blush. “Ihavetogo,” I mumble that last bit out.

“I do know you,” he says. “You’re Emma Frost. The White Queen. Biggest bitch.”

I glare.

“Hey and you kind of look like her too. Though your boobs need to be a lot bigger. It threw me off at first.”