Chapter Text
Franklin barreled through the door of my room.
Carefully applying my eyeliner in the mirror, I glanced at him. Chiseled jaw clenched and hands balled into fists, a frown marred the space between his arrogantly shaped brows. His strong, muscled arms wired tight beneath his white T-shirt, he stood at the ready for battle.
His cognac-brown eyes searched my room from top to bottom for unknown threats. “Tracey? You good?”
“Um, duh. I’m always fine.” I returned my attention to my makeup. “I’m gonna need you to tone down some of that masculinity. It’s totally uncalled for, super distracting, and it’s ruining my good vibes—”
His warm hand came down on my shoulder. I stiffened, his eyes shrewd and accessing as they bored into me. “You sent me a text saying that you were dying, that you needed my help. You sure you good?”
His voice was soft, filled with concern. My gut kicked. Maybe I shouldn’t have sent that overly dramatic text, but desperate times called for desperate measures. I needed help. Badly. Dad was always busy doing movie director stuff, Mom was too preoccupied with shopping and yoga, and Jimmy was a complete idiot, so Franklin was the only person I could rely on.
It’s been that way for months. He picked me up from school, assisted with my homework, helped me take selfies for Bleeter, talked me through every one of my frequent mental breakdowns...he was a life saver, literally. Because he was so selflessly awesome, I decided to keep him around. Mostly because he did stuff for me, but he also had a nice personality to boot.
And we looked hella good together. Whenever we were out and about in the city, people would stop and turn their heads to gawk at our beauty. I was a celebrity after all, the sexiest girl in Los Santos according to my Bleeter stalkers. And Franklin was powerfully built, dark-haired with stunningly amber eyes. He was a man who looked absolutely gorgeous just about every day of his life. It seemed effortless for him, and I would’ve resented that if weren’t besties.
I confessed, “I lied to get you here, okay?”
“Tracey…” Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “You scared the shit outta me, girl. What were you thinking—”
“Don’t be mad. I’m sorry.” I hugged him.
The tension in his muscles relaxed beneath my touch. I took his hand and flopped down on my bed. He sat beside me, our fingers intertwined. “A’ight, Trace. I’m here now, so what’s going on with you?”
“I have news,” I smiled. “The best news. You’re not gonna believe this, but Chad Dillington asked me on a date!”
He stared at me, his expression blank.
“Well?” I tapped his shoulder. “Say something! Aren’t you excited for me?”
“Who the fuck is Chad Dillington?” he asked.
“Are you kidding me?” Energy thrumming through me, I jumped to my feet. “He’s like the hottest, most popular guy at my university! He’s a quarterback for the football team, a committed member of the Alpha Omega Theta Pi—”
“The Alpha Omega what?”
“It’s a fraternity, Frank! Chad Dillington is a big effing deal, literally every chick on campus wants to bone him. He has the prettiest blue eyes and the cutest smile ever.” I twirled on my heels. “I can’t believe he chose me of all people to go on a date with. This is so, like, amazing!”
“That’s cool, I guess.” He shrugged. “You called me over here just to tell me that?”
“No! If there’s any hope in winning Chad Dillington’s heart, I’ll need support. Your support and guidance, in particular.”
His brows furrowed. “Uh…why?”
“Because you can help me understand him! Guys know what other guys are thinking, right? You and Chad have so much in common too. You’re both around the same age, you both like getting sweaty at the gym, you both like getting high—”
“No offense, Trace, but me and that preppy ass frat boy ain’t got shit in common. I’m sorry, but I’m finna pass on this one. Maybe one of yo’ friends at school can help you.” He stood and took off for the door.
“Wait!” I swerved in front of him, blocking the exit with outstretched arms. “You’re right, there are some stuff you and Chad don’t have in common. Like, for example, he’s way smarter than you and his parents are filthy rich.”
Franklin glared a hole into me, a muscle in his jaw twitched. Yikes. Probably shouldn’t have said that.
“But you’re sane,” I complimented. “Sensible, wise beyond your years, and levelheaded. You’re playing with a full deck, Frank. That’s a rarity in Los Santos, you know? Everyone here is crazy.”
“Including you,” he snapped.
“But you love me.” I hugged his muscled arm. “You’re like the ping to my pong, the yin to my yang, the butter to my bread, the chocolate to my milkshake…”
“That was cute until you mentioned the part about chocolate. Now it’s weird.”
“Frank, you have to help me!” I pleaded desperately; my mouth set in a pout. “I’m your best friend, you can’t abandon me when I need you most. It’s not fair! I’ll hate you forever if you do—”
He smothered my mouth with his palm, silencing me. “Fine, I’ll help you on one condition. No more whining and crying like a damn baby, it’s embarrassing. Makes my ears bleed, it’s horrible.”
I smacked his hand away. “Deal. Now shut up and listen.” Standing on the tip of my toes, I spoke quietly into his ear. “Chad invited me to a masquerade ball. It’s a top secret, invitation only party the fraternity is hosting at some old, underground speakeasy—”
“Girl, why you whispering?”
“Because it’s a secret. Mom and Dad can’t know about this, they’ll freak out. Promise me you won’t tell them. You know how overprotective they are, they never let me have any fun.”
“It’s all good, relax. Your secret is safe with me.”
“Swear on it.” I rose my pinky.
“I promise.” His finger curled around mine. “So the most popular douche bag motherfucker in school invites you to an invitation only masquerade ball…”
“Could you refrain from calling him a ‘douche bag motherfucker’, please?” I rolled my eyes. “Anyway, all the cool kids are gonna be there. The party is happening this weekend. Friday night. I only have two days to prepare. This is so short notice, I haven’t even picked out a dress.”
“Hey, you could always cancel.”
“No! A date with Chad Dillington is a once in a lifetime opportunity. I can’t back out now. I have to do this.” My stomach grew queasy and my hands wouldn’t stop shaking. I paced the room, my fingers laced taut until my knuckles turned white. “What if I screw everything up? What if he doesn’t like me?”
Franklin appeared in front of me. I jerked to a halt, riveted to the spot as his searching gaze burned into me, glimmering with golden flecks. Lost in the intensity of his eyes, something shifted in the air between us.
As he stared back, he changed…as if the impalpable wall he kept between us began to chip and splinter. His tough, guarded demeanor crumbled before me, revealing a soft vulnerability in his eyes. A tenderness I had no clue he was capable of.
He patted my shoulder and squeezed lightly, affectionately. My skin tingled from the warm, steady pressure of his touch. “Of course the frat boy is feelin’ you,” he said softly. “He’d be crazy not to.”
My cheeks heated. Since when did he become so flattering? “You’re just saying that to make me feel better,” I mumbled.
“Nah. I mean it.” He reached into his pocket for his phone and started tapping away at the screen.
I peeked at the screen. “What are you doing?”
“If you’re going to a ball, you gotta know how to dance.” He pulled up a Bleeter video of dancers clad in silk doing the Waltz. “Think you can do that?”
“Uh, I dunno. Last time I tried to slow dance with a guy was at my high school prom. I slipped and twisted my ankle in front of everyone. Super embarrassing.”
“Let’s make sure you don’t trip this Friday, a’ight? We can practice together.” He propped his phone on my desk and took my hand in his, the other rested on the small of my back. “You ready?”
Our eyes locked, I nodded weakly, my breath coming in short and fast. The contact was electric, I could feel the edgy energy radiating from him—like a magnetic pull that grew harder to reject by the second. He started moving, his strapping body gliding across the carpeted floor with confidence and easy rhythm. Jeez, when did he get so good at this? He was a natural! My knees wobbly, I followed his lead to the best of my ability.
I felt so small and insignificant in comparison to him, my movement stiff and awkward. And it didn’t help that I was petite, barely over five feet, and he was huge—a tall, deep brown slab of solid muscle and well-exercised strength. The force of his presence was difficult to ignore in a crowded room, and doubly so in an enclosed place like this, so close to me…
After a few beats, the heat of his direct, prolonged gaze became overwhelming. I lowered my head shyly.
“Chin up,” he instructed, tipping my head upward with a gentle push of his thumb under my chin.
Sucking in a harsh breath from the mind-boggling intimacy, I lost my footing and tripped over my own feet. He caught me in his arms just before I collided with the floor, his strong-featured face hovered over mine. Hit with all that striking masculinity at eye-level, I could only stare. Stunned. His beard was well-groomed, complimenting the hard lines of his square-cut jaw, and his lips were like the icing on the cake…the fullness gave his rugged good looks the perfect touch of sensuality.
He helped me to my feet. “That wasn’t part of the dance, Trace.”
“No shit, Sherlock.” Pinching my lips together, I kicked a tube of old nail polish across the floor. “I’m never going to get this right. I’m so screwed.”
“It ain’t the end of the world. You still got time. Don’t give up, girl.”
“I wish I could be as optimistic as you are.” I sighed. “I’m sorry for being a bitch. There’s a lot of pressure on me and I’m taking it out on you.”
“It’s all good. I’m used to you being bitchy. I’m used to the screaming temper tantrums—when you beat yo’ fists against the floor and your legs start flailing like a fish outta water…” He grinned.
My stomach dropped. “It’s not funny.”
His laughter quickly faded. “My bad.”
An awkward silence filled the room. Twisting a finger around the hem of my blouse, I broke the quiet. “I’ve been working on my temperament with Doctor Friedlander. Do you think I’m getting any better?”
He leaned against the wall, his hands tucked casually into his jean pockets. “You haven’t had any episodes recently.”
“Because you calm me down right before I snap. Every time.”
“Why waste so much bread on therapy then? You’ve been seeing a therapist for what? Years? And you were still having panic attacks until…”
“Until you came along,” I completed his sentence. “I don’t want to become so dependent on you, Frank. It’s like, totally unfair to you.”
“Shit, I don’t mind. I ain’t going nowhere, unless you want me to—”
“No!” My heart lurched at the thought of losing him. Shocked by the fury of my reaction, I took a careful step away from him. “You wouldn’t leave me. You’d miss me too much.”
He stared at me for a moment, silent and thoughtful, his brow quirked.
I tensed. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Uh, no reason.” He lifted the brim of his black Los Santos snapback to scratch his head. “I should probably bounce. It’s getting late, and you got class in the morning.”
“Wait.” I passed him his phone and gave him a brief good-bye hug. “Do you think you could give me some guitar lessons after school tomorrow? Music class is kinda kicking my ass. I could use the extra help.”
“Yeah. Of course. No problem.” He chuckled, seemingly nervous for some reason. “I ain’t the best with the guitar, but uh, I know a few things so…”
“Are you kidding? You’re way better at it than me.”
“Slightly better.” His teeth gleamed in a smile. “A’ight. I’ll hit you up tomorrow.”
I was a little bummed about him leaving, but he was right. I needed the rest so I could wake up bright and early tomorrow. I returned a smile. “Bye, Frank.”
“Bye, Trace.” He turned to leave but stopped at the door, his gaze shifted to me. “By the way, you don’t have to lie to get me here. You ain’t gotta send no dramatic texts or nothin’ crazy like that. If you need to see me, whatever the reason, just…call. I’ll be here in a heartbeat.”
A pang struck my heart. I swallowed deep, fumbling for words. Before I managed to find my words, he was gone.
With a heavy sigh, I collapsed on my bed. What was the matter with me? Why were my brain cells starting to fry around Franklin? I had a huge date planned with Chad Dillington, but for some reason, I couldn’t stop thinking about my best friend.
My phone vibrated on my nightstand. I grabbed it and found two new texts from Franklin.
Still thinking bout how tripped over your own damn feet earlier.
Girl, you clumsy.
Oh my god. With an embarrassed grin, I texted him back; Wow. You sure know just what to say to boost a girl’s confidence :P
He responded a minute later. What if I told you that I like when you’re clumsy? I get to pick you up whenever you fall.
I read the message with wide eyes and then powered down my phone, my nerves danced wildly in my stomach. There was an ache in my chest, and I rubbed at it. Jeez. Pull yourself together, Tracey…
***
A flood of cheery sunshine dappled over the broad university campus. A mass of students piled in on the cobblestone walkway rushing to class, while others lounged in the fresh-cut grass with friends, either studying or just enjoying the warm weather. The sound of Franklin strumming away on his guitar blended in nicely with the birdsong and chatter. Sitting cross-legged on the ground with Chop stretched across my lap, I laid my head on Franklin’s shoulder.
“I hate this shit,” he grumbled, glaring at the sheet music as he played. “There’s so many different ways to play the same motherfuckin’ note. It’s annoying.”
“Uh-huh,” I said, absorbing the pleasant sound of his music. “Keep it up. The better you get at reading that crap, the better you can teach me.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
My phone chirped. I pulled it out of my purse and was blindsided by a dick pic from Chad effing Dillington. My jaw dropped. It kinda looked like a mutated duck, the excessive amount of blonde pubes were the feathers, and the beak was the flabby foreskin. Yikes. I really hope he planned on shaving that monster before Friday.
“Frank!” I exclaimed, shoving my phone in his face. “Look! Chad sent me a dick pic! It looks like a duck. You think it quacks like one too?”
“What the fuck?” Glowering, he swatted my phone away. “I don’t wanna see that nasty shit.”
“Cover me. I’m gonna respond with a boob pic.” I lifted my shirt.
Franklin caught my wrist. “Are you outside yo’ damn mind? Look around you, girl. What do you see?”
I shrugged. “People?”
“Yes. A lot of people. We in public. That means your clothes stay on, and you keep them little ass titties where they belong—inside yo’ bra.”
“You’re totally overreacting. I’m only gonna show him one titty. He’s gotta wait for the full package. What do I look like? A whore?” I pulled away from him. “And my boobs are not ‘little’, thank you very much.”
Franklin rolled his eyes and returned his attention to the guitar. “Your boyfriend has a jungle dick, Trace. The cursed image is permanently ingrained in my head. I’ll probably have nightmares about that shit tonight.”
I froze. “A jungle dick? What’s that?”
“Okay. Let me explain.” He shifted to face me. “Imagine a jungle. It’s a dark, damp, breathing environment teeming with all kinds of living things—fungus, germs, blood-sucking parasites, beetles, spiders, and cockroaches…now imagine all that creepy shit crawling in your man’s pubes. On his dick.” He pointed at the picture on my phone. “Look at that dirty ass jungle! You can’t tell me that motherfucker don’t got aids, syphilis, and gonorrhea hiding in there like a three for the price of one deal.”
“Oh my god, Frank!” Giggling, I punched his shoulder. “You’re such an idiot.”
“His shit looks like it’s ‘bout to rot off any second now,” he continued. “Chad might have some flesh-eating bacteria buried in there—”
I slapped my palm over his mouth. “Shut up before someone hears you. He’s super popular, remember?” Chop abruptly jumped out of my lap and darted for the butterflies flitting among the flowers. A big, unleashed Rottweiler running around campus was bound to spook people. I went after him. “Chop! Wait up!”
I caught Chop by the collar just before he swiped a sandwich out of some guy’s hand. When I turned around, Franklin was surrounded by three svelte brunettes in high-waisted shirts and plaid skirts. Once I noticed their matching outfits and perfectly curled hair, my blood ran cold. It was Claire and her two brained-washed lackeys, Molly and Amy. The most popular bitches on campus. And also, the meanest.
Claire was way too close to Franklin for comfort, her dirty claw of a hand stroked his chest. My blood boiled. I stormed up to them and grabbed my best friend by the arm, pulling him away. “Fly away like the bird you are, Claire,” I spat. “My friend isn’t interested in basic bitches.”
Towering over me in her overly expensive high heels, Claire’s red rouged lips twisted into a smirk. “Well, well, if isn't the washed-up celebrity slut from Rockford Hills, Tracey De Santa. Your father’s movies suck. They’re a real eyesore. And so are you.”
Her posse of tramps laughed in unison. And so did a couple of students nearby. Red-faced and thoroughly embarrassed, I shrunk closer to Franklin.
“I heard you had a thing for Chad Dillington,” she continued. “News flash, he’s out of your league, freshman. Stay in your lane, bitch, before I straighten you out myself.”
Claire sauntered off with a toss of her windblown hair, her followers scrambled at her heels.
“Damn,” Franklin cringed. “If this is what college is like, I’m glad my black ass dropped out of high school. I wouldn’t last a day with all this drama, I’d kill a motherfucker.”
There were eyes staring at me from every direction. Judging me. Pointing fingers. Laughing. Tears came rolling down my face in a torrent and I couldn’t stop them. My chest on the verge of caving in on itself, I dropped everything and bolted. I didn’t stop running until I was cloaked in shadows, hidden from prying eyes beneath the muddy football field bleachers. Completely alone.
This royally sucks. I was such a loser, and now everyone knew it. My breaths came in gasps, my heart hammered against my chest like it was going to burst. A surge of pain welled up inside me. Needing an outlet, I stomped on the ground repeatedly in a fit. Ugh. Why do things like this always happen to me? It’s not fair!
“Tracey!” Franklin found me, his hand captured mine.
“Get off me! Let go!” I tried to struggle from his grasp. Flailing my arms. Kicking. I felt smothered. I couldn’t breathe. But once his arms wrapped around me from behind, strong and clinging, I melted into his embrace. All the fight in me was instantly swept away in the breeze.
He kept me grounded, holding me together as I was falling apart. Nothing else mattered while I was sheltered by him. Guarded by him. The impeccable strength and stability he emanated was a natural deterrent of everyone and everything that wished me harm.
Nothing could hurt me when he was holding me like this. In his protective arms, the world didn’t seem like such a crappy place.
Franklin held me until my tears dried and my breathing calmed. Once again, he came to my rescue, soothing me before my tantrum grew out of control. I was growing increasingly attached to the feeling of safety and serenity he provided. It was scary.
“You good?” he asked.
I nodded. “Better now.”
He pulled away, then handed me my book bag and purse. “You dropped this.”
“Oh my god, I didn’t realize…” I sighed. “Thanks for the save, Frank. As always.”
He wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. “Don’t run off like that again, a’ight? Had trouble keeping up with you. When you’d get so damn fast?”
“I had to get away. Everyone was staring.”
“It’s just you and me now. And Chop.”
Chop sat down at my feet, staring up at me with those cute little doe eyes. I gave him a couple scratches behind his floppy ears and squeezed Franklin’s hand in silent gratitude. “I don’t know what I’d do without you guys.”
Chop responded with a series of a barks. Knowing Franklin was well-versed in dog language, I turned to him for answers. “What did Chop say?”
“He wants to know if biting a hole in Claire’s flat ass would make you feel better,” Franklin said. “Little homie would be more than happy to do it.”
I chuckled. “As much as I would love to see that, we can’t stoop to her level. We’re better than that. God, I hate being a freshman. The seniors are so effing mean. Feels like high school all over again.”
“Out of the frying pan into the fire.” He smiled sympathetically.
“Can you believe what she said about me? I mean seriously, who talks to people like that?”
Franklin took a step forward and brushed a hand over my elbow, urging me to walk with him. Chop followed behind.
“They’re just words,” Franklin said. “Empty threats. Bullshit with no substance. You can’t let the shit people say affect you like that.”
I mumbled, “Words hurt, okay? I’m sorry I’m not as thick-skinned and tough as you are. Claire is right, Chad is out of my league. Didn’t you see her? She’s beautiful. And she was all over you. I bet you were loving it.”
“I didn’t come here for her. I came here for you.” He hesitantly touched a fingertip to the corner of my eye, wiping away the tears. The fiercely intimate gesture caught me off guard. I stared wordlessly at him, momentarily speechless. “If there’s anything I ever learned ‘bout women, it’s that they lash out at each other when they’re jealous. Which means…”
My brows rose. “Claire is jealous? Of me?”
He nodded. “You’re the one going on a date with the frat dude. She ain’t. You’re also the one with his dick pic.”
“The jungle wiener,” I snickered. “Do you think he’ll shave before Friday?”
“Don’t matter unless you plan on fucking him. Which you ain't going to, right?”
“On the first date? Heck no.” I’m gonna give it to him good on the second though.
As if he could read my mind, Franklin’s expression stilled and grew serious. “You want this dude to respect and treat you like a woman, you gotta conduct yourself like one. For real, Trace, don’t throw yourself at him. Make him chase you. Make him put in work for you. You’ll fuck this up otherwise.”
I threw my hands up in surrender. “Okay, jeez. Relax. I’ll try not to be a slut.”
“I never said you were,” he frowned.
“You implied it, but it’s fine. I forgive you for being a passive-aggressive tool because I know you have my best interest at heart.” I hooked my arm around his. “I’ve dated a lot of guys, had sex with most of them too, but that was the past. I’m in a new stage of my life. I’m working on becoming a better me, loving myself, treating others the way I want to be treated. No more getting high off Dad’s hard-earned money, no more being anal about calories and puking up meals, no more toxic relationships…”
He chuckled. “Living yo’ best life now, huh?”
“That’s right.”
“Well, since you ain’t starving yourself no more, you wanna grab somethin’ to eat?”
“Yes!” I beamed. “I’m in the mood for Chinese. What about you?”
“Chinese is cool with me.” He glanced at Chop. “What you think, little homie?”
Chop howled, tapping his paws on the ground excitedly.
Franklin smiled. “Sure, we’ll get you some fries, boy.”
***
We ordered our Chinese to go and went back to my place to stuff our faces. Once we were done eating, we practiced the Waltz until I finally nailed it without making an ass of myself. Mom got home from shopping nearly a quarter after seven and found us in the living room while we watched reruns of Fame or Shame. Chop chewed happily away at a bone.
“Hey guys,” she smiled, holding paper bags of groceries in her arms.
“Hi, Mom,” I waved at her.
“Amanda, hey. Lemme help you with that.” Franklin rose from the couch and grabbed the groceries from Mom. He set the bags down on the kitchen counter.
“Aw, thank you, honey,” Mom smiled. “You’re very sweet. It’s nice to have a man around the house willing to make himself useful. Michael is always so busy, and when he is home, he avoids his household duties like a plague.”
I joined them in the kitchen, gravitating to Franklin’s side. “Dad thinks chores are beneath him,” I said.
“And Jimmy?” Franklin asked.
“Lazy,” Mom and I said in unison.
While we were helping Mom put the groceries away, I came across a bag of barbeque potato chips. Knowing how much Franklin loved barbeque, I ripped the bag open and shoved a handful in my mouth. “Mmm,” a pleased murmur slipped through my lips, teasing him. “This is soooo good.”
“Ay, gimme some.” He opened his palm to me.
“Nope.” I turned my back to him. “Mom bought this for me, not you. Get your own—”
“I bought that for Jimmy, actually,” Mom muttered.
I snorted. “Good. I’m doing him a favor, he needs to lose weight anyway. He’s fat.”
“Tracey, stop. Your brother is very sensitive about his weight. You release bad vibes and negative energy throughout the house when you talk like that. It’s toxic for your soul, honey.”
Smirking, Franklin nudged me. “Don’t be toxic, Trace. Be nice. Learn to share.”
“Oh, whatever.” I rose a chip to his lips. “Open wide.”
He ate chip after chip from my fingertips, chewing, savoring the taste. The working of his perfectly sculpted jaw was captivating. I inhaled sharply, transfixed by the inherent strength in his face, the way his Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed. I wonder if his lips were as firm as they looked…
There was a crumb in his beard. Instinctively, I brushed it away with a flick of my hand. “Wow,” I breathed, amazed at the softness. The texture felt nice against my skin. I edged closer, the pleasant aroma of his aftershave graced my nostrils. It was an earthy scent, like sandalwood with subtle hints of spice. Sheesh. It should be illegal to smell that good.
Mom cleared her throat. I froze with my hands still buried in Franklin’s neatly trimmed beard, the heat of her stare burning into me. Awkward.
I backed away hastily and managed a laugh. “So…Mom, how was your day?”
“It was good. No complaints.” She shot my best friend a glance. “Franklin, honey, can you take out the garbage for me? I’d really appreciate it.”
“Yeah. Sure thing.” He swept up the garbage from the can and strode for the door.
Once he was gone, Mom stepped in front of me and whispered harshly, “What’s going on between you and him?”
I stiffened. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t insult my intelligence, Tracey. I literally just watched you hand-feed him. You were caressing his face, for god’s sake.”
“We’re just friends, Mom. You’re totally overreacting. And for the record, I’m an adult now. I can do what I want.” Annoyed with her prying, I retreated for the couch.
“This conversation isn’t over, young lady!” she called after me.
“Yes, it is! You can’t control my life anymore!”
I found Jimmy stretched across the sofa with his eyes glued on the television screen, channel surfing.
“Hey, I was watching TV first,” I snatched the remote from his hand.
“Whoa! Not cool, man!” He glared at me. “That was a total bitch move.” Franklin returned, strolling into the living room. Jimmy sprang to his feet, his eyes brightened at the sight of my friend. “Hey, F-Dog!”
Franklin greeted him with a tip of his chin. “What’s crackin’, homie?”
“You wanna play some video games?” Jimmy asked. “I just got the newest Righteous Slaughter. It’s dope as fuck.”
“I’ma take you up on that some other time, a’ight? There’s some shit I gotta get done with your sister.” He beckoned me over with a wave of his hand and uttered quietly, “You picked out a dress yet?”
I shook my head, “I was hoping we could find the right one together—”
“This is such bullshit!” Jimmy exploded, his pudgy face flushed red. I coulda swore there was smoke pouring out of his ears. “What makes her so much better than I am? You’re choosing favorites, F-Dog? Seriously? What happened to bros before ho’s? Dicks over chicks—”
“Go away, you little turd.” I dismissed him with a wave of my hand. “Frank doesn’t have time for your stupid games. He’s busy.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, Tracey!” Jimmy threw his hands in the air dramatically. “Would you let the man breathe? You’re smothering him. He’s his own person, he doesn’t live to obey your every fucking command. As a matter of fact, he wouldn’t even be here if Dad wasn’t paying him!”
I stared at Jimmy’s back as he stormed off, my heart sinking low in my chest. What the hell did he just say?
Franklin reached out to me and I recoiled from his touch like a cattle prod.
“Tell me it’s not true,” I said.
“It ain’t,” he said through gritted teeth. “Not entirely.”
“‘Not entirely’? What the fucking shit is that supposed to mean?”
He grew silent. My body twitched as I glared up at his stupid face. I should’ve known better. He wasn’t my friend. Our entire relationship was based on lies. Of course, Dad had a hand in this, he always does. He was always meddling in my effing life. I’m sick of it!
“Fuck you.” I flipped Franklin the bird and raced up the steps toward my room, righteous in my anger. I thought I meant something to him. I’m so stupid. It was always about the money. His dumb pep talks and kind words weren’t genuine. He was a fucking fake.
Unfortunately for me, the handsome lying ogre was hot on my trail. He caught me by the arm just before I made it to my room.
“Don’t run,” he hissed in my ear.
“I wouldn’t if you weren’t such an asshat.” My voice broke, tears welling in my eyes. “I’ve been nothing but honest with you. Why would you lie to me?”
“Yo’ pops ain’t paying me shit, alright?” Nostrils flaring, he released me and sighed heavily. “Mike has a lot going on, mid-life crisis, traveling all over the country for his movies, dealing with Trevor, doin’ a bunch of other shit he won’t even talk to me ‘bout…”
“So, he hired you to watch over me in his absence?”
“He asked me to keep an eye on you. To protect you and your brother. I coulda said no, but I didn’t. I was going to come clean, but I didn’t want you to feel like this shit we got going on—our relationship—was financially motivated. I ain’t hired help, girl. I’m here with you ‘cause I wanna be.”
I swallowed deep, my gaze averted to the floor. “That wasn’t the case at first, was it?”
“At first, looking after you was all ‘bout doing your pops a favor. I owed him. Simple as that.”
“And now?”
He didn’t respond. I hazard a glance at him. One look at his remarkable brown eyes and my heart turned over in my chest. Butterflies in my stomach. How could any girl hold resentment against such a gorgeous face like his? He was breathtaking.
Franklin was a hard man in a lot of ways. Difficult to read, and near impossible to get close to. His silence was agonizing.
“Say something,” I urged. “Anything.”
He moved, leaning in so close, his breath ghosted my ear. I trembled, nearly swooning from the intoxicating scent of his cologne. Pinned to the wall and completely at his mercy, I could barely breathe as he cupped my cheek in his hand, caressing my skin with a heartrending tenderness. “I care ‘bout you, Trace,” he confessed softly, the sweetness of his words made my stomach flutter. “You know I do.”
My fingers aching with the need to touch him, I clung to his shirt, burying my flushed face in the crook of his neck. “Promise me you’ll be truthful from now on,” I sniffed. “No more lies.”
With one arm at my waist, his pinky curled around mine. “Promise.” His cheek nuzzling my own, the ticklish sensation of his beard forced a giggle out of me. “Shit, I hate it when you cry.”
I sagged into his warm embrace. His heartbeat raced against my chest as he threaded his shaky fingers through my hair. He was impassioned. Just as moved as I was by the intimate moment we shared. Relief washed over me. He did care about me. Maybe this was real…
We held each other for a long while before our hug broke, but our fingers remained intertwined. “I have like, a dozen dresses to choose from in my closet,” I smiled weakly. “Can you help me pick one?”
His lips twitched with amusement. “Yeah. C’mon.”