Frisson

19 | a hint of night

She cocks her head to the side with a wry smile. "I thought I was far from your type."

"Physically? You're a six. Personality is a three."

She gives me a sour look and smacks my chest. "You're lucky I don't take my boot off smack your stupid face with it."

I laugh and duck out of the house as she continues to try and hit me. "I'm just kidding, jeez. I'd say you're a five across the board."

"Tyler."

My pulse starts at the way my name falls from her lips. "What?" I tease. We climb into my car, stiff with hot air, and I start it up. "Thought you wouldn't care about what I think."

She huffs while buckling up. "I don't. It's just- You're annoying."

"You're annoying," I taunt in her girlish voice.

I get a middle finger in response. Laughing, I take a turn out of the neighborhood and focus on the traffic ahead. Not the weightlessness of my chest. This light banter we've had for the past week...I like it. It's playful. Not sexual. Playful is safe. Speaking of sexual. "Hey, I have a sort of invasive question," I say. Resting one hand on the wheel, I glance at her from the corner of my eye.

She's adjusting her vents to get more of the cool air. "Of course, you do. What's up?"

"What's it like? Being addicted to sex?"

She throws me a flat expression. "What do you think? Horrible. Consuming. Destroying. There's nothing fun about losing control. At least, the aftermath isn't fun. The way it affects your loved ones hurts the most. Everything feels good in the moment, but like drugs, there's the comedown."

"Fair point." I nod and focus on the line of cars ahead of us. Sounds oddly familiar. "So regular sex doesn't bother you?"

There's just enough time to catch Rory's face burn like a flame. "I...I don't think so. Obsession has a certain sensation to it. Repercussions. I'm not obsessed anymore."

"What helped you?"

"Victoria. Rehab. Therapy. Controlled environments. The last time I came close to the thrill was when-" She looks at me. Was it us? "I haven't felt off in a while."

I want to ask her. Was our time together a risk? The look in her eyes that night, they were so familiar. She needed something. At first, I thought it was drugs. That look was how I felt whenever Chace told me I needed help. The answer scares me. Instead, I say, "You're an open book."

"No use hiding it. You already know so much about me." She rests her arm on the window and leans her chin on her palm. "Plus, Vicky always tells me that sharing can encourage others to. Even to get help. Not saying you need help. People tend to think they're alone. We think we're the only ones suffering when everyone around us is going through something."

"Fair." I clear my throat and fail to keep my heart from swelling. Same here. I bite my tongue. There's no story for me to tell. Not right now. Not like this. Tonight is supposed to be about letting go and having fun. Though it's hard to fight her. Something about Rory makes it easy to talk. She's like me.

Palm trees whisk by. People stroll along the sidewalks. Evening moves towards us in rapid shades of marigold and lavender. The colors are pretty as they reflect off of her skin. The conversation returns to a light mood for the duration of the ride. I tease her and she bites back. It's fun. Easy. Nothing that would imply that there may be something else there. Nothing that my brother needs to worry about. A near hour blends us into the sketchier part of town. Rory's posture straightens and she stares at the scenery like she's thrilled by the sudden shabbiness of homes and stores. No longer are we surrounded by vibrant shades of summer with beachgoers littered on every corner.