But Lily and I made a decision not to tell Allison about the threatening texts. It’s too dangerous when we don’t know who’s sending them. And partly, the situation feels new and raw, and talking about it is like pressing on an infected wound.

“Lo,” Allison urges at my silence.

“I’m scared,” I start again, “that there’s going to be a point where you become angry and bitter and resentful every time I tell you to stop, that you realize someone else can give you what you want.”

Lily’s head whips from side to side, like I’m so wrong. That kind of reaction feels good.

“No one else could ever give me what I want,” she breathes. “I only want you.”

I hold onto the words, even if we both know they’re not completely true. She wants to fuck. She wants the high of a climax the same way I want to drown in a bottle of bourbon. I want the rush, the flush and the ride to purgatory and back. We are not each other’s first wants and needs. I am second to her. And she is second to me.

I want that to change.

I take her hand and kiss her knuckles, but she doesn’t smile because she knows it’s her turn.

“Lily?” Allison asks.

Lil keeps her eyes on me, and I give her an encouraging smile. “I’m scared,” she says, “that you’re going to hate being on some sort of sex schedule and hate being barred from your own pleasure. It’s not fair to you, and you’ll find someone who will make you feel better than I can.”

My mouth opens in surprise. I didn’t ever think she was worried about that. I didn’t even believe it could be an option. I love her beyond the great sex. “Lil—”

She interjects quickly, throwing up her hands. “What if I can’t ever give you a blow job?” she asks, a little hysterical now. “I mean, what if that’s on the blacklist? That’s not right, Lo! You have needs too!”

I’m grinning and trying so hard not to laugh. It’s probably shitty that my smile has spread to new proportions, but I can’t help it. Not when she’s freaking out over this.

“This isn’t funny!” she shouts, but her lips start to rise, mimicking mine. “Stop. I’m being serious.”

“I’m sorry.” I can’t even pretend to sound apologetic, nor can I stop smiling. “It’s just cute.” She blushes, and it only makes me want to gather her in my arms and cage her against the couch. To take her right there. She would love that.

“Okay, well…I’m giving you a blow job after this then,” she demands.

That almost gets me hard. I have to think about something else. Like the fact that Allison is sitting right here. “How about I let you know when I want one,” I rephrase. I’ve read the blacklist, and while it doesn’t exclude blow jobs, it does have certain stipulations. In fact, I think Lily would be genuinely surprised by what it actually says.

Lil narrows her eyes. “You’re just going to keep telling me later until later becomes a year.”

“Within the week,” I say, my eyes lighting up. Only with my girlfriend do I have to basically negotiate her out of giving me head.

Her forehead wrinkles, like it does when she’s thinking hard. After a moment, she looks to me and nods. “Deal.”

Allison pipes in. “That’s good, really good. You two are communicating very well with each other and letting your voices be heard. What I want you both to work on is getting your sex lives to a point where they don’t interfere with relationships, school, jobs, or even daily activities. I know in the past you two had a very active sexual routine.”

Active doesn’t describe what we were doing. When we both were in the lowest of the low, we rarely even left the bedroom. It was an all-consuming affair. Waking up. Drinking. Fucking. Sleeping. Occasionally eating. It was both the best and worst time of my life.

“I think you’re each ready to make a change,” Allison continues. “And that begins now.”

After my Stats exam, I get another inflammatory text. This time Unknown has become a little more creative and called me a tramp and a cocksucker. It’s a little ironic that I just begged Lo in therapy to let me give him head. But other than that, these texts are starting to unravel me. Whoever said that sticks and stones will break bones but words never hurt have obviously never been teased or insulted.

We’re meeting Connor today to talk about the private investigator’s discoveries. I planned to bring up the new messages with Lo and Connor, but after the Mason incident in the parking deck, I don’t think revealing my texts will do anything other than enrage Lo. And I don’t want him to Hulk Smash anything or drive him to drink. Hopefully Connor has a better lead on the guy and we can figure out what he wants.

I throw my backpack onto my bed and rush to the bathroom, needing to at least fix my hair before we leave. When I swing the door open, I find Lo by the sink, twisting the cap onto a pill bottle. It must be Antabuse. He told me he was taking meds that will make him sick if he drinks alcohol. I’m more proud of him than he knows.

“You ready?” I ask, trying not to make the pills a big deal. I look into the mirror and nearly die at my hair. I pulled an all-nighter to memorize those old exam questions. Taking a shower dropped on my priority list. My hair is greasy and flat and looks kind of gross.

“Just about.” Lo opens the medicine cabinet and grabs a stick of deodorant. I make a bold decision and turn on the sink faucet. Then I lean over the marble edge, trying my best to stick my head in the basin and underneath the surge of water.

“What the hell are you doing?” Lo asks as he simultaneously rolls the stick under his armpits. He’s shirtless, and I really can’t stare too long.

“Washing my hair,” I tell him. I pull some wet strands through my fingers, and I’m about to squirt some hand soap into my palm.

“That’s not shampoo,” Lo says quickly.

“What are you, the soap police? It’ll work.” I reach for the bottle again.

“Wait,” he says. I lift my head up a bit and move some sopping strands out of my face. He fumbles around in the shower and then closes the glass door on his way out, a bottle of Herbal Essence in his clutch. I hold out my hand while twisting my neck to avoid dripping all over the counter.

“You’re going to create a tsunami in here,” he says, pushing me back to the sink. My stomach hits the edge of the counter, and I bend again, losing sight to my wall of hair. Then I feel his hands on my head, rubbing the shampoo into my scalp. Oh.

This feels nice.

His fingers knead in and out, running up and down, and even pressing against the back of my neck. I never thought that a head massage could feel so damn good.

I stifle a moan, but the pleasured noise escapes as soon as he closes the space between us. His body melds right up against my ass. We haven’t done anything except missionary since he returned from rehab, and I’m starting to become paranoid that anal is on that blacklist. I want it. Right now, I think. I’m probably in the minority of girls who enjoy that position. But I like the tightness. It’s a different kind of climax, and I can’t deny how much I want it to happen.

“Lo.” My voice comes out hoarse and wanting.

He scoots back from me, air replacing his body. The rejection hurts, but I try to remember what we talked about in therapy. I have to get a grip.

“How was your exam?” Lo asks, probably trying to distract me.

“Not bad.” I have yet to come clean about Sebastian supplying me with old exams. I don’t think Lo would care that I’m semi-cheating, but I don’t think he’d approve that Sebastian is embedding me in his scheming ways either. It’s better to avoid that conversation.

“So Sebastian is actually helping?” he asks in disbelief. He returns his body right behind me again, and the pressure on my ass ignites wild thoughts.