Archive of Our Own

Frank had been sober for just over a year when Mel decided to start flirting with him.

Mel had never really flirted with anyone. Like, ever. At least not intentionally — although she suspected the one guy she’d hooked up with in med school had interpreted her behavior as flirting even if she hadn’t necessarily meant it that way. Regardless, flirting was not something Mel had a lot of experience with. She’d seen it in movies, read about it online, seen people — mostly Trinity — do it in real life at bars, but it wasn’t something Mel had ever tried intentionally doing.

Until now.

Ever since her first day at the PTMC, Mel had felt tiny butterflies flutter around in her stomach every time she was near Dr. Frank Langdon. There was something about his energy that drew her to him, no matter where he was or what he was doing, like he was an exceptionally strong magnet and she was a tiny little piece of metal. The way he grinned and pulled her onto exciting cases was absolutely exhilarating. And then, when she inevitably got overwhelmed, he was somehow always there to calm her down.

Her silly little crush had evolved into something much bigger in the six months since he’d come back. It was something that felt precious, something she kept tucked close to her heart.

Mel was very used to her romantic feelings not being reciprocated, and she quickly came to terms with this not being any different. Frank was far too good looking and charming to ever really want her, even if he hadn’t been married and going through a journey of healing Mel in no way wanted to interfere with.

But then Frank had gotten divorced, and — a few months later — he’d hit his one year sober milestone, and he suddenly felt a lot more available. He had a bare ring finger and a new pep in his step at having to do fewer random drug tests.

Mel still wasn’t planning on doing anything. He was far out of her league. With how often patients and staff alike flirted with him, it was obvious he could have pretty much anyone he’d want. He didn’t seem interested in any of them, though, which likely also included Mel. She was content with that, really. With reveling in their growing friendship, sneaking glances at him when she could, but never letting her mind wander too long.

But then she’d gone out for drinks with Trinity. And Trinity had talked about trying to find out if Dr. Ellis was interested in her by flirting a little more than usual. And Mel’s entire world had shifted slightly.

“What do you mean?” Mel asked, leaning her elbows on the sticky table between them and tilting her body closer to Trinity to hear her better. The bar was loud, too loud, and smelled of beer. Mel didn’t like it, but she liked hanging out with Trinity, so she figured it was worth it.

Trinity shrugged. “You know. Just a little look here, a touch here. Trying to see if she flirts back, you know?”

“And if she does?”

“Then she’s probably interested.” Trinity tilted her head to the side with a curious look at Mel. She did this sometimes when she realized there was some fundamental knowledge about social rules that Mel didn’t have. It happened more often than Mel would’ve liked. “That’s kind of why people flirt, Mel. To figure out if someone likes you back without having to say it outright.”

Mel blinked, something slowly clicking into place. She had kind of thought people just did it for fun. And maybe they did that too, but this explanation made a lot more sense.

“Oh.”

Trinity leaned closer to Mel with a mischievous grin. “Is there someone you’d like to test the waters with?”

Mel’s cheeks heated up. Hopefully the lighting in the bar was too dark for Trinity to see her blush. “Uhm. No. Nuh-uh. Nope.”

Trinity’s grin grew wider. Mel quickly changed the subject.

Later that night, Mel came home to a sad, sister-less apartment. Becca was with Adam, as she often was these days, and Mel was alone. As she often was these days.

Feeling a little silly, but also kind of excited, Mel opened her laptop and pulled up Google. In the search bar, she typed, how to flirt. She felt a bit like an autistic stereotype, but some stereotypes existed for a reason, and Mel had no one else but Google to turn to for advice on this. Trinity’s suggestions would likely be far too forward, and Frank… Well, he couldn’t give Mel advice on how to flirt with himself, now could he?

Mel researched for almost an hour, weighing over every suggestion in her head, considering if they were actually things she could do in real life. Most were clear no’s, but there were definitely some things she could do that would not make it too obvious she was flirting, but hopefully obvious enough that Frank would pick up on it if — and only if! — he liked her back.

When Mel went to bed that night, it was with a gang of anxious moths fighting the troop of excited butterflies in her stomach.

She started with small things. Google told her to hold eye contact when talking to the other person, which wasn’t something she was usually a big fan of, but she had found that she didn’t mind as much when it was Frank. There was something so soothing about his eyes.

So, instead of looking at her hands or at the ceiling when she spoke to him, she tried her best to look right at his eyes. Google told her to look very intentionally, and speak a bit slower than usual. That happened all on its own, really, because any time Mel looked too long at Frank’s eyes, her brain stopped working. This was the case any time she made eye contact with anyone — she became too distracted to think properly, feeling too exposed. With Frank it was a little different, though. Mel didn’t necessarily feel exposed. She felt … seen.

Like one time in the ambulance bay, after a tough case with a kid that Mel knew looked a little too much like Penny. The girl had survived, thankfully, but her cries of pain had made Frank’s eyelids flutter for a second too long.

He was outside, back pressed against the wall, hands over his face. Mel shivered at the cold air, but walked up to him all the same. He lowered his hands and looked over at her. When his eyes met hers, something flipped in her stomach. Usually, she would’ve looked away at this point, but she kept her eyes on his.

For a moment, they were just standing there, staring deeply into each other’s eyes. Mel took a small step closer, expecting him to finally look away, but he didn’t.

His eyes were shining with tears that he likely hadn’t shed, but they seemed to have been forgotten now. Now that she was here. It felt like he was looking deeply into her soul, seeing something no one else had seen, not even Mel herself.

Mel opened her mouth to tell Frank he’d done a good job, when an ambulance rushed in, breaking her gaze away from him. When she looked back, he was still watching her.

He cleared his throat and said softly, “Thank you.”

Mel blinked. “But I didn’t … do anything?”

Frank smiled like she was joking, even though she really wasn’t, and moved over to the ambulance. Mel shook her head to clear it and rushed over to help.

Google also told her to smile, which was not really something she needed to be told, since she was a very smiley person in general, and especially around Frank. He always made her so giddy she couldn’t help but break out into a grin around him.

One day, sometime in September, Mel had been giggling and smiling like a fool as she bounced a toddler up and down on her lap. Sometimes, pedes cases were the worst, since it was so tragic if anything went wrong. Other times, though, it was the highlight of Mel’s day to get to play with a perfectly healthy and happy kid with overly concerned parents.

Frank had come into the room to check on her, and had sort of frozen when he’d seen her. Mel still wasn’t sure why. But then he’d broken into the biggest smile Mel had seen on him at that point.

“What?” Mel had asked when he’d just kept standing there. “Is something wrong?”

Frank had shaken his head quickly. “No. No, absolutely not. It’s just– Your smile is so infectious.”

Mel had beamed at that, which had only made Frank’s smile wider. Then the toddler in her lap had pulled at her braid, and the moment was over.

Mel kept that memory tucked close to her heart, going back to it in darker moments, when she hadn’t smiled in a while and needed a reason to.

So, obviously, Mel had taken this praise and run with it, smiling more at Frank than anyone else. He called her smile infectious, after all!

Google said she should smile while maintaining eye contact, though, so she tried doing that more. Her natural instinct when she was overwhelmed by emotions, even joy or giddiness, was to look away. But she tried her darndest to hold eye contact when he made her smile, and it seemed to be working. His smile seemed to grow bigger as she kept looking at him, although that might’ve happened before too — infectious smile and all — and she just hadn’t seen it until now. Either way, she wasn’t complaining about seeing more of his gorgeous smiles. They made her weak in the knees — which was not ideal when she was working.

Mel had learned early to not look too much at Frank when they were working on a trauma.

Another thing Mel hardly needed to be told to do — since she already did it automatically with Frank — was talking to the other person about their interests. They obviously talked a lot about work and medicine, things they were both interested in, but Mel also gladly listened to him talk about hockey or any of his other interests. Any time Frank talked, all Mel wanted to do was listen, so this flirting technique came very easily to her.

What came less easily to her was the way she was supposed to do it. She was already working on keeping eye contact and smiling, but she apparently also needed to have more open body language. It took her a little while to figure out how to do that comfortably, since it came so naturally to her to clasp her hands in front of her chest and sort of shrink in on herself — which was not body language that invited more conversation, she could admit that.

But she figured out that she could grip her hands tightly in her lap while she was sitting and still achieve the same grounding sensation. And if she clasped her hands behind her back when she was standing, it was almost the same as clutching them to her chest. So that was what she did around Frank, trying to indicate that she wanted to have conversations with him. She couldn’t tell if it worked, because they already talked a lot, so there wasn’t much room for improvement, but Mel figured it couldn’t hurt.

Not a lot, at least.

It had been a difficult case, one with a lot of yelling directed at Mel. Frank had seen her walk shakily out of the patient’s room and immediately told her to take ten in the break room. She did so dutifully, because she knew she would start crying if she didn’t.

Closing the door and turning off the lights, Mel let out a sigh of relief and sat down in a chair. She laid her palms against her neck, pressing her fingers into her skin in a slow, rhythmic pattern. With her eyes closed, breathing intentionally, feeling the pressure of her fingers ground her, Mel slowly started to calm down.

When the door opened, it did so slowly and carefully. Mel knew it was Frank who had entered before she even opened her eyes. When she did, he was in a chair opposite her, watching her with equal parts concern and fondness. It made her dizzy.

She quickly placed her hands in her lap, squeezing her fingers together, hoping to invite a conversation. Frank frowned when she did so, his blue eyes focusing on her hands as she gently pulled on her fingers.

“You don’t…” Frank cleared his throat, his eyebrows pulling together.

“What?” Mel asked when he didn’t continue.

Frank’s eyes flicked up to her, then back to her hands. Slowly, he said, “I hope I haven’t…” He stopped, then started again, “You know you don’t have to hide your stimming around me, right?”

“I wasn’t…” Mel looked down at her hands. Was she? Hiding her stimming?

It occurred to Mel that a lot of these flirting techniques were very similar to masking — making eye contact, controlling her facial expressions and body language. That was a little strange, wasn’t it? That in order to act like she was interested in a romantic relationship, she had to act less autistic? Less like herself.

But wasn’t it worth it? If it could lead to a romantic relationship with Frank? Or, at the very least, prove that he wasn’t interested in her so she could finally start to move on from this silly crush...

“I hope I haven’t done anything to make you feel like you can’t be yourself around me,” Frank said gently, making eye contact with her now, his eyes wide and sincere.

A cold shiver ran through Mel, as it always did when she felt like she’d misstepped socially. Her attempted flirting was supposed to make Frank realize she liked him, not make him scared he’d done something wrong!

“No, not at all!” Mel rushed to say, leaning a little closer to him. “I feel very comfortable around you, Frank.”

Frank’s shoulders slumped in relief and he broke into a beautiful smile. “Okay. That’s good.”

Mel nodded. It was good. The way he made her feel so at ease, so free to be herself. It was very, very good.

“You ready to get back out there?” Frank asked, getting up from the chair. He looked so beautiful, standing there in the dim light, with scrubs that looked so boring on everyone else, but made him look like a knight in shining armor.

Mel needed to know how he felt about her. She needed confirmation, one way or the other, or she would never be able to get over him. This wonderful, wonderful man.

But she didn’t want to make him concerned for her, either. So, as she stood up, she pressed her palms to her neck, digging her fingers into her skin. Frank smiled as he watched her. And that was kind of flirting, too, wasn’t it? Showing how comfortable he made her?

Still, that clearly wasn’t enough, or Mel wouldn’t have had to flirt at all.

One suggested flirting technique that intrigued Mel was twirling your hair. At first, she hadn't quite understood what was so appealing about it. But then she'd thought about Frank’s perfect hair and how good he looked when he ran his hands through it, and immediately gained a new understanding. Twirling her hair was often impossible for Mel, though, considering the braid she almost always wore. She tried twirling her braid around her finger in front of the mirror, and even she could tell that it looked silly. So, no hair twirling at work.

What she decided to do was to let her hair down in his car. Mel didn’t have a car of her own — she couldn’t afford one — so she had to take the bus to work. Frank had found this appalling for some reason, and offered to drive her to and from the PTMC whenever they worked the same shift. He’d looked at her with so much earnestness and hope when he’d asked that she hadn’t been able to say no. Mel was a very independent person, but something about Frank made her want to be… less so. It was terrifying, in a way. But also very exciting.

Mel usually kept her hair braided until right before she went to bed, because she didn’t like the sensation of hair touching her face. But there was a bit of relief in unbraiding her hair at the end of the day, so she figured she could just do it a little sooner. Especially if it counted as good flirting.

The first time Mel started undoing her braid in Frank’s car, he almost ran a red light. She’d started untangling her hair, pulling her hands gently through it, when she looked up and screamed, “It’s red!”

Frank stepped down hard on the break, causing them both to jolt forward into their seat belts. The impact, while not painful, still left Mel a little breathless. She stared at Frank. What on Earth had happened?

He looked away from her quickly, his gaze back on the road. Clearing his throat, he said, “Sorry. Fuck, I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”

Mel wanted to ask why not, but the words got stuck on her throat. She wanted to ask if her flirting had worked; if she had been the one to distract him. The thought was thrilling, but also highly unrealistic. Just a silly daydream she’d had since he’d called her hair pretty and tugged at the end of her braid sometime last week.

“It’s okay,” Mel said slowly, her heart still beating a little too fast — for multiple reasons.

That night, Mel came to the conclusion that Frank must’ve gotten lost in one of his ADHD trains of thought, leading him to miss the red light, and that it had had nothing to do with her hair. She also came to the conclusion that it therefore couldn’t hurt to keep doing it.

So she did. Every time he drove her home after work, Mel undid her braid and carefully brushed her hair with her fingers. When she was done, she twirled some of her hair around her finger, trying to make it seem like it was just one of her stims. After a while it did become a stim for her, actually. The sensation of her hair swirling around her finger was a very soothing one.

Sometimes, Mel swore she caught Frank staring at her at a red light, causing butterflies to take flight in her stomach. A few times, she even had to tell him that the light had turned green.

She knew he had ADHD, and it was probably just one of his million thoughts distracting him while he drove. But there was something nice about pretending that she was the one distracting him.

A very important part of flirting was, apparently, touch. Mel wasn’t very used to initiating physical contact, and was generally a little afraid of doing it, since she never knew how it would be received. But none of her flirting had worked so far, so it was what she had to do.

There were all kinds of touches she could try out, apparently. Accidental touches, touches that seemed accidental but weren’t, casual touches, more intimate touches disguised as something innocent — like brushing an imaginary crumb off their cheek. It was all very overwhelming, designed for people much smoother than Mel. But, regardless, she was going to try her best.

Working in the ER, one simply had to get used to physical touch. Touching patients, obviously, but bumping into your coworkers was also inevitable, especially in a crowded trauma room. Mel didn’t dislike physical touch, but she preferred to know when it was about to happen so she could prepare herself for it. It was why she was more comfortable touching patients than with the sensation of Trinity accidentally bumping into her shoulder on her way out of the room or Dennis pressing up against her as they both tried to reach different parts of the body of a patient crowded by doctors and nurses. It had bothered Mel in the beginning, but she’d gotten used to it by now, in the same way she’d (mostly) gotten used to the bright fluorescent lights and noise echoing around the ER.

Whenever Frank accidentally touched Mel at work, a pleasant shiver always ran through her body. Their fingers brushing, a bump of their shoulders, him accidentally leaning his knee against hers as they ate lunch, his hand on her lower back guiding her where he needed her. It left her almost lightheaded. And that was obviously not ideal when she was supposed to focus, which was part of why she tried to avoid touching him at work, lest she get distracted and horribly mess something up.

Mel refused to flirt while they were working with patients. It was unprofessional and creepy. She preferred to flirt outside of work, in his car or when he was over for movie night or when she walked his dog with him. It was easier, safer, more comfortable.

The problem was that it was extremely tempting to flirt with him at work too. He was just so overwhelming, and she itched to… to show it. Show what she did to her. How breathless and dizzy he made her feel. It was unfair, honestly, that he could be so unaffected by things that left her reeling.

So she flirted with him during their breaks. When she was allowed to distract them both, just a little. She smiled more deliberately whenever they found the time to eat lunch together, with his returning smile always managing to calm her down from the adrenaline rush of whatever her last case had been. She held eye contact, too, as he told her about his kids or the latest hockey game he’d watched or a book he’d started to read that they both knew he would never finish. In the beginning, he had seemed a little surprised by her prolonged eye contact, but he seemed to have gotten used to it now, looking right back with his gorgeous blue eyes.

Anyway. The next on her list was physical touch, and she found the perfect moment to start during one of their quick lunch breaks. They were both by the kitchen cabinets — Mel for a glass of water, Frank for a cup of coffee from the coffee machine. As Frank reached out to grab a cup, Mel saw a glass sitting right beside the cup he was reaching for. There were plenty of other glasses for Mel to choose from, but she was feeling brave, so she grabbed the glass right next to Frank’s cup. Their hands brushed, skin against skin, shooting warm electricity up Mel’s arm. Frank froze for a second, and Mel quickly pulled her hand away (with the glass), terrified that she’d crossed a line. But then he gave her a small smile and grabbed the cup.

Over the next few weeks, Mel grew braver. As they ate lunch, she’d sometimes bump her foot against his under the table. On their way to his car after shift, she’d sometimes walk a little too close so their hands could brush. When they made dinner together, she’d accidentally bump into him in a way that would’ve been dangerously distracting at work, but at home was simply just distracting.

One day, Mel decided to try the ‘brush an imaginary crumb from his cheek’ trick. They were at Mel’s apartment — a small two bedroom with cream colored walls and lots of pictures on the walls — eating dinner. Just the two of them, since Becca was with Adam.

Mel and Frank had started doing this about once a week since November. It had felt natural to start doing it, since they were both so lonely — they hadn’t said that that was the reason, but it had been implied when the tradition had started. Becca had cancelled on Mel once again, and Frank had talked about how lonely his apartment felt when his kids weren’t there. And then he’d more or less invited himself over. Two lonely people trying to make themselves less lonely.

Sometimes Becca — or Becca and Adam — joined them. Sometimes it was just the two of them. When it was just them, it felt so much like a date that Mel had to stop herself from daydreaming too much. Imagining that he would kiss her any second, imagining that he wanted her the way she wanted him.

They were on Mel’s grey couch watching Pride and Prejudice, a huge bowl of popcorn in Frank’s lap, when Mel saw her opportunity: a piece of popcorn stuck in the corner of Frank’s mouth. Mel wasn’t the best at lying, so she’d been worried about doing this trick, but now she realized now that she didn’t even have to lie!

“You have something…” Mel said softly, reaching her hand hesitantly towards Frank’s face.

“Hm?” Frank, who had been watching Darcy’s first confession intently, turned to Mel.

Before she could overthink it, she reached out and brushed the piece of popcorn away, feeling his soft lips under her fingertips. Frank’s eyes widened, and she immediately pulled her hand back.

“Sorry,” she said quickly. She’d gone too far, she should’ve been more careful, she should’ve–

“It’s okay,” Frank said, his voice slightly hoarse.

“… Really?”

Frank nodded quickly. “Y-yeah, ‘course, Mel. You– I mean, we’re friends. You can touch me whenever you want.”

Mel could feel herself blushing pretty violently at those words, so she turned her attention back to the movie.

You can touch me whenever you want.

She got a lot braver with the touches after that.

Somehow, the flirting technique that scared her most — even more than physical touch — was giving compliments. It wasn’t that she was afraid of complimenting Frank. On the contrary, she made sure to compliment him every time he drove her home. Ever since his first day back, it had been obvious that he needed a confidence boost. Mel had tried her best to give him that on the Fourth, and on every shift since. He had gotten a lot more of his confidence back by now, but he still faltered sometimes, and she always wanted to be there to help him get back on his feet again. So, every time he drove her home, she made sure to bring up one of his saves, or a cool procedure he’d done, or something that had impressed her. He always seemed to glow under her praise, which only made her want to do it more.

So, Mel was no stranger to giving compliments to Frank. The problem wasn’t that. The problem was that she had never complimented anything other than his work.

That was what made her nervous. If she suddenly started complimenting other things about him, would it be too obvious what she was doing? Would it come off as weird or creepy? Would it be crossing a line?

After some consideration, Mel decided that it might be crossing a line, but she didn’t think Frank would find it creepy. And if he did, she was sure he would tell her. He might find it a bit weird, but he’d once told her he liked that about her, so she wasn’t too worried about that.

And didn’t she need to be a little more obvious? Mel felt that her flirting had been pretty blatant so far, but still nothing seemed to have changed between them one way or the other. If this didn’t work either, she wasn’t sure what she’d do. Give up, probably, and keep living in this liminal space of knowing he probably didn’t like her like that but still holding onto that little sliver of hope. Hope that he might.

She decided to start with compliments that could easily be read as platonic, just to get them both used to her complimenting something other than his work.

One night in his car, he told her about his plans to take Tanner and Penny to the Fort Pitt museum. “I absolutely adored that place as a kid,” he said with a stunning grin. “I hope they like it too. I’ll try not to take it personally if they don’t.”

Mel mirrored his smile automatically. He’d called her smile infectious, but what about his, huh?

“You’re a really good dad,” she said softly.

He glanced over at her, his ears going red. She’d seen them do that a few times before — sometimes when their hands brushed, sometimes when she let her hair down, once when she’d shown him a rash on her stomach so he could check if it was anything serious (it wasn’t; she’d already known that, but he was fussy). She liked seeing his ears turn red. It made her want to bite them.

He coughed. “Thanks, Mel. I– I’m trying.”

“Yes,” Mel agreed. “And it seems that you succeed more times than not. Even with… everything.”

Frank’s eyes went a bit glassy with tears, which was not ideal when he was driving, so Mel quickly switched the topic of conversation. This had clearly not been her most successful attempt at flirting, as it almost had led to him crying, but she was still glad she’d said it. It seemed like it was something he’d needed to hear.

Over the next few days, Mel found a couple of fairly safe things to compliment. She praised his cooking, his music taste (some of it, not all), his movie choices (again, some, not all), how surprisingly organized the cabinets in his apartment were — all of which she had said before, she realized quickly. For some reason, she’d thought she only complimented his work, because it was the only thing she put in the effort to praise. Other compliments fell out of her so naturally that she hardly thought about them at all, apparently.

It seemed there were some compliments that came more naturally to her than breathing. There were others, though, that she’d always held back.

Frank was driving Becca to Middle Hill, and then Mel and him to work. While Mel leaned her head against the window, trying not to fall asleep, Frank and Becca talked about video games.

“I’ve almost paid off all my debt,” Becca said, talking about her Animal Crossing island. “And then I can upgrade my house.”

“Debt? Man, that Tom Nook guy sounds like he sucks,” Frank said with an exaggerated shudder.

“He does!” Becca giggled when she said, “He kind of looks like you, actually.”

Frank gasped, fake offended. Or maybe actually offended, Mel couldn’t tell.

“You should start playing Animal Crossing too,” Becca said. “Then you can come visit my island.”

“I’d love that.” Frank slowed down as he drove up to the entrance to Middle Hill. “Oh, we should play It Takes Two sometime! It’s a two player co-op game, and I’ve heard it’s pretty good.”

Becca considered that for a moment, then nodded. “I hope you’re better at video games than Mel. It’s no fun to play with her because she dies all the time.”

Frank threw his head back and laughed, an absolutely intoxicating sound. Mel had to look away, choosing to send Becca a glare with no fire behind it. Becca giggled and climbed out of the car.

As they watched Becca walk up to the building, Mel said, “I, uh, I realized I’ve never thanked you. For… For being so kind to Becca.” Frank looked over at her, and even though Mel knew she should be making eye contact, she looked down at her twisting hands. “Not everyone is, so… Thank you.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Frank’s hand twitch, like he wanted to reach out to her. He didn’t. She wished he had.

“Mel… You don’t have to thank me for that. That’s, like, basic human decency.”

Mel shrugged, suddenly feeling a very strong urge to melt into the car seat. “I know, but I wanted to thank you anyway. She likes you, and it seems like you like her too? And that… that means a lot to me.”

Frank was quiet for a moment. Eventually, Mel looked up at him. When she did, she was met with a warm and gentle smile. One laced with perhaps some sadness, which she couldn’t quite make sense of.

“Yeah, I like her,” Frank said finally, his voice soft. “She’s awesome, Mel.”

Mel smiled. “She is.”

She almost wanted to thank him for being so kind to her too, but that would definitely be going too far. Even this conversation felt like her laying her heart bare in front of him.

Frank pulled out of the driveway, and Mel felt a bit of relief when the conversation moved onto something easier. She still sat with far too sappy words on the tip of her tongue, but they would have to be saved for later. Or never.

Mel complimented Frank’s driving, his delicious-smelling lunches whenever he brought leftovers (which always led to him letting her taste them), and his impressive ability to sit on a chair without getting sick as it spun around far too many times. She complimented every small thing she could think of, everything that felt safe, everything that didn’t feel like it was crossing an invisible line.

What Mel really wanted to compliment, though, was his hair. Everyone knew Frank had great hair — Becca had even said it the first time she met him — but Mel had never told him. He probably definitely already knew that Mel thought his hair was amazing (who wouldn’t?), but in the name of flirting, she wanted him to hear her say it.

Still, it wasn’t something she felt like she could say just out of the blue. It would be far too forward, far too obvious. She decided to wait until he got a haircut. People commented on other people’s new haircuts all the time, right? At least, she remembered Dana saying something nice last time Dennis got a haircut (even though it hadn’t looked that good). So it couldn’t be that weird if Mel commented on Frank’s new haircut, could it?

One morning, when Mel saw that his hair was slightly shorter than it had been the day before, she decided to just go for it. He looked gorgeous, the early March sun making him glow as he opened the car door for her. He’d started doing that recently: getting out of the car and running over to the other side so he could open the door for her. It was embarrassingly romantic. Mel loved it.

“Did you get a haircut?” she asked as they stood there on the sidewalk, making sure to smile slowly and make intentional eye contact.

He let out a small laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah.”

“It looks nice.” Mel tried to keep her voice slightly lower and slower, as she’d been instructed to online. She maybe even managed to look up at him through her lashes, which she’d only read about in books. “Your hair always looks so nice.”

His ears turned wonderfully red. “… You think so?”

Mel blinked, so stunned that she was pulled out of her flirting mode. She took a small step back and looked at him properly, trying to figure out if he was joking. It didn’t seem so.

“Of course,” Mel said, a little baffled. “Frank, everyone thinks your hair is great.”

Frank shrugged, his ears still red. “Yeah, well. You’re not everyone.”

Mel wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or not, but she blushed all the same. Deciding she’d been brave enough for today, she hurried into the car. She wasn’t sure if she imagined it or not, but Frank seemed to run his hands through his hair even more often after that. It was terribly distracting.

You’re not everyone.

Mel replayed those words over and over again in her head. They could mean a lot of things. Mel wasn’t everyone because she was strange and weird and slightly off-putting. Mel wasn’t everyone because she was his friend and not a random patient. Mel wasn’t everyone because she was special, because Frank cared about her in a way he didn’t care about everyone. Mel wasn’t everyone because she had weird taste sometimes and he couldn’t be sure that she would agree with everyone else on what was objectively good hair or not. The interpretations were endless, really.

It was still so strange to her that he hadn’t already known how much she liked his hair. Wasn’t it obvious? Couldn’t he see the way she watched his hands as he ran them through it? Couldn’t he see the way her gaze caught on the strands that flopped into his eyes, the way she burned to push them back for him?

Mel thought he would’ve noticed by now, surely. Noticed her flirting, noticed how she practically threw herself at him. But maybe he hadn’t?

Or, more likely, he had, and he didn’t want to do anything about it.

She decided to try one last time. One last time, and then she’d let this whole embarrassing flirting thing go. She’d learn to live with her feelings for him until they eventually disappeared, hopefully sooner rather than later.

They were watching a movie in Mel’s apartment, just the two of them. Bridget Jones’ Diary, because Mel loved that movie, and Frank had somehow never seen it. In a way, Frank reminded her of Bridget. (She was Mark Darcy, obviously.) She elected not to say this, though, since Frank might take some offense. Bridget was a mess of a person, after all, but she was also adorable and funny and extremely charming. Just like someone Mel knew.

Halfway through the movie, Mel got up to get a glass of water. When she came back, she sat down right next to Frank, much closer than they’d sat previously. So close that their thighs were touching. Heat spread throughout Mel’s whole body. Frank glanced over at her, but didn’t say anything.

It really was so unfair how unaffected he was by all this. How could he sit there so casually while Mel felt like she was about to explode?! It was downright unjust!

Frank’s hand rested on his thigh. Mel stared at it, the movie completely forgotten. Just white noise in the background as she considered her next move.

She wanted to. She had to.

She took his hand. Grabbed it gently with both of hers and placed it in her own lap. Frank let out some sort of noise, but didn’t say anything. Carefully, she started tracing lines up and down his palm, his fingers, the back of his hand. It was big and warm and solid. Mel realized she could sit there for hours, simply studying his hand.

“You have nice hands,” Mel said, unable to make eye contact.

She wanted to compliment his arms, his biceps, his veins. His jaw, his chin dimple, his nose, his mesmerizing eyes. His hair, always his hair. All of him. She wanted to tell him how devastatingly attractive she found him. How much she longed to have him.

“Mel…” Frank’s voice was strange. Strained, maybe.

Mel looked over at him and realized just how close they were sitting. How close their faces were now that they were both looking at each other. Only inches apart.

Kiss me, she begged silently. Kiss me. Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me. Kiss me!

He didn’t.

He stayed perfectly still, his hand still in her lap, his eyes on her, his lips inches from hers.

He didn’t do anything.

Hadn’t she made it obvious what she wanted? How much she liked him? Hadn’t she looked deeply in his eyes, smiled intentionally, minded her body language, twirled her hair, touched and touched and touched him, told him in hundreds of words how lovely she found him to be? Wasn’t it obvious what she wanted right now?

It was. Mel was sure it was.

And yet he didn’t do anything.

Because he didn’t want to.

Mel almost kissed him, then. Just to have done it once. Just to know what it would feel like, so it could haunt her forever.

But she didn’t. Of course she didn’t. She would never kiss someone who didn’t want it.

A second later, Becca called, and the moment was over. As was Mel’s flirting.

She was done.

The next week was… slightly uncomfortable. Mel tried not to act differently around Frank — it wasn’t his fault that he didn’t like her back! — but it was difficult. Both because her heart was broken, but also because her pathetic attempts at flirting had become her new normal for how she interacted with him. She had almost forgotten how she’d used to act around him.

But she tried. She stopped making eye contact when she talked to him, which was a relief. It was also a great relief to not have to monitor her body language. She kept smiling, but less intentionally. Sometimes, she snuck glances at his stunning smile, but she stopped making prolonged eye contact when she smiled at him.

She stopped taking her hair down in his car, which was a bit of a loss, since she’d found stimming with her hair after work to be a very effective way to calm herself down. Still, it was a relief to not have her hair touch her neck and face all evening, so. You win some, you lose some.

The real loss was that she stopped touching him. Not entirely, but mostly. She had barely ever initiated touches with them before, so she tried to go back to that, to letting him take the lead. It was all right, but she missed it. Missed brushing her hands against his, missed leaning her knee against his when they ate lunch, missed ‘accidentally’ bumping into him when they cooked.

She missed him.

But he didn’t like her romantically, and she valued their friendship far too much to put it at risk by continuing to make him uncomfortable. This was for the best in the long run, it really was.

Frank seemed a little confused by the sudden change in her interactions with him, which was fair. Thankfully he didn’t bring it up. Mel wouldn’t have known what to say.

Well. He brought it up once, in the car. It had been a few days since she’d last taken her hair down, and he casually asked, “Is there a reason you’re not taking your hair down like you usually do?” When Mel didn’t immediately answer, he added, “Just ‘cause I know you like routines like that, so I was wondering.”

Mel looked out the window, trying to find a good explanation. She didn’t have one, so she just said, “I used to take it out at night. I think I prefer that.”

“Oh. Okay.” Mel was definitely imagining the disappointment in his voice.

He didn’t bring it up after that. Not any of it. Mel was grateful. This was hard enough already.

But this was for the best. She knew it was.

A week or so later, Trinity invited Mel out to a bar, and Mel gladly accepted. She liked hanging out with Trinity. It made her feel like she was finally getting some of the experiences her youth had lacked. Going out drinking, singing karaoke, getting home late, gossiping and talking about romance and sex. Trinity did more of the latter than Mel, but Mel was more than happy to listen.

Like now, when Trinity let out a long sigh and said, “I don’t think Ellis is into me. Like, at all.”

Mel leaned forward, curious. “How can you tell?”

“She hasn’t flirted back,” Trinity said, her face twisted into a frown. “Not even a little bit.”

Mel thought about all her silly attempts at flirting, none of which had been reciprocated. She hummed sadly. “Same here.”

Trinity perked up, suddenly very interested. “Wait, what?”

Mel blushed; she hadn’t really meant to say that. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Trinity, but she knew her relationship with Frank wasn’t great. She also knew that Trinity was a ruthless teaser, especially if she found something she thought was worth teasing you about. This was certainly something Mel would never hear the end of.

“Melon, come on,” Trinity begged. “You can’t just not tell me now.”

Mel sighed. She supposed the cat was out of the bag. And, if she was honest, she needed someone to vent to.

“I tried flirting a little with someone I’m interested in,” Mel said slowly. “To … test the waters, like you said.”

“Okay!” Trinity said, like she was impressed. “Good for you!”

Mel looked down. “It’s not much to be excited about. He didn’t flirt back, so. He’s not interested.”

Trinity made a sympathetic noise, reaching across the table to squeeze Mel’s wrist once before letting go. “Whatever. There are plenty of fish in the sea.”

None as lovely as Frank, Mel thought, then mentally kicked herself. If she wanted to get over him, she needed to stop thinking things like that.

“Who was it?” Trinity asked, her eyes shining with curiosity. “Is it someone I know?” Mel hesitated, which was apparently enough answer for Trinity. “Holy shit, does he work at the hospital?! Mel! Who is it?!”

Mel squirmed under the attention, feeling extremely uncomfortable. This was the kind of girl talk she had always longed for in her younger years, but now that she actually had it, she wasn’t sure if she liked it very much. Especially not in a loud bar smelling of beer with a far too excited woman in front of her. A woman who would not be very excited at all once Mel mumbled, “Fr— Dr. Langdon.”

Trinity was silent for a long moment. Mel refused to look at her.

“Sorry, what?!” When Mel looked up, Trinity looked like she was about to start laughing.

Mel bristled. “I know you don’t like him very much, Trinity, but I do, and I’m not ashamed of it. Yes, he doesn’t like me back, and I am trying to get over him, but I still don’t want you to try to make me feel embarrassed that I fell for–”

“No, no, Melly, calm down,” Trinity said. She let out a laugh, then quickly turned it into a cough when Mel frowned. “No, Mel, I– I’m not laughing at you, I promise. Well, kind of, but not really.”

“What are you laughing at, then?” Mel asked, feeling very small and silly.

Trinity seemed to sense Mel’s distress, because she schooled her face into something more serious. She reached across the table and squeezed Mel’s wrist once, then let go. “Mel. I’m only laughing because Langdon is so into you.”

Mel blinked. “What?”

“Like, anyone with eyes can see that he’s head over heels for you,” Trinity said, sounding serious even though she couldn’t possibly mean any of this. “I honestly thought you knew and just didn’t like him back.”

This made no sense. No sense at all. Frank wasn’t– He didn’t– He hadn’t reciprocated any of her flirting!

Trinity must’ve misread something. She didn’t know Frank like Mel did — she barely interacted with him, even at work. How was Trinity supposed to know how Frank felt about Mel? She couldn’t, was the answer. And she didn’t.

“Of course I like him,” Mel whispered, because that felt like the only thing she could really reply to.

Trinity shrugged, taking a sip of her drink. “I mean, I can’t say I support your choice in men, but good for you. Go get him, and all that.”

Go get him. Mel almost laughed at how wrong Trinity was. There was nothing to get. Frank didn’t want her like that.

“Dr. Ellis didn’t reciprocate your flirting?” Mel asked, desperate to change the topic.

Trinity groaned, thankfully taking the bait. “No! I think she might have a partner, honestly. And I’m, like, 99 percent sure they’re not poly…”

Later that night, Mel mulled over her conversation with Trinity. She had to admit, of course, that there was a possibility that Trinity was right. Mel wasn’t the best at reading signals, so it wasn’t impossible that there were things she had missed.

Still. Mel thought back to the night with Frank when they’d watched Bridget Jones’ Diary. If Frank was ‘head over heels’ for her, why hadn’t he kissed her? Mel truly couldn’t think of any other explanation than the fact that he didn’t want to.

Obviously, there were things that Mel could read as him flirting with her if she really, really tried. When he opened the car door for her. When he offered to help her with chores. When he ran his hands through his hair. When he accidentally touched her at shift, on the way home, at her apartment, at his. When he kept telling her how good of a doctor she was, or how good of a sister, or how good her cooking was even though she knew she wasn’t great at making food. When he listened to her ramble even though anyone else would’ve interrupted her or just walked away.

If Mel wanted to, she could read this as flirting. She could also read this as Frank being a very charming and kind man who cared about her.

The latter was easier. It would lead to less heartbreak down the road.

Mel hated anti-vaxxers. For all the normal reasons all doctors hated them, obviously, but also because they were all so convinced that vaccines caused autism (they didn’t), and that having an autistic child was worse than having a dead child (it wasn’t.).

Mel always tried to very diplomatically explain that vaccines didn’t cause autism, and that the main ‘study’ which claimed so had been debunked about a million times. They never listened to her, of course. Mel didn’t like calling people brainwashed, because it discredited their lived experiences and ability to think for themselves, but… some of these people came close.

In the stairwell, Mel watched the yellow and orange blobs on the screen move slowly up and down and around and around. She was so absorbed in her lava lamp app that she didn’t notice Frank until he was sitting beside her.

She startled slightly. “Frank!”

For some reason, that made him furrow his brow and lean back a little. “Sorry, I just– I wanted to check on you, but I can–” He stood up, which was both hurtful and confusing. “Should I get Emma? Or, I don’t know, Santos?”

Mel could feel her face scrunch up. “Why would you do that?”

For a second, Frank stood frozen in front of her, his mouth half open. Then he cleared his throat and rubbed at the back of his neck. “I, uh… Do you want me to stay?”

“Of course,” Mel replied immediately. Frank was acting very strange. She would have to talk to him about it later.

His shoulders slumped slightly, and he sat back down beside her. Almost touching. She pressed her knee into his thigh, needing his touch for a moment to ground herself.

“You okay?” Frank asked after a moment.

Mel shrugged. No. She wasn’t sure. Better now that he was here.

“Anti-vaxxers suck,” Frank said.

Mel snorted. “Yeah.”

Later that night, they were sitting on opposite ends of her couch, both full from the pizza they’d eaten. Mel scrolled on Instagram while Frank talked to his kids on FaceTime. The smile on his face was devastatingly beautiful.

After he’d hung up, Frank reached for the TV remote. “What do you wanna watch?”

“I’m not… sure,” Mel said slowly.

Frank put down the remote, clearly sensing that she wanted to have a conversation. Mel almost started crying. He was so good at reading her, and at the same time he was so horrible at it. It was how she felt about him, too. Sometimes she could read him like an open book, and other times it was like trying to make sense of an extinct language.

“What’s up?” he asked somewhat cautiously.

Mel wrung her hands together, squeezing them to her chest. This didn’t have to be a difficult conversation. It was probably just a misunderstanding. “Why did you think I didn’t want you there today? In the stairwell, I mean.”

Frank blinked, like he hadn’t expected her to say that. “Uh… Because… uhm.” He closed his eyes for a second, but opened them before he continued, which Mel found to be very brave. “‘Cause you’ve seemed a little less comfortable around me lately, so I just figured … maybe you’d want someone you’re better friends with.”

Cold shivers ran down Mel’s body. She had apparently committed a huge social misstep. Damn it.

“I really like Emma and Trinity, but you’re my best friend, Frank. Along with Becca, of course. I… I would always rather have you than anyone else comfort me at work.”

“Oh.” Frank looked relieved, which was good. Mel hated the thought that she’d hurt him.

“Why did you think I wasn’t comfortable around you?”

Mel had an idea, obviously. After stopping the flirting, she had overcorrected and acted less friendly around him than she should’ve. She just needed to know what he’d noticed, so she could fix it. Maybe it was the smiling, or her body language, or–

“You don’t really … touch me anymore,” Frank said hesitantly. Mel blinked. It was something she had thought about a lot, obviously, but she hadn’t thought Frank would notice it. He continued, “Like, it seemed like you had gotten more comfortable touching me? But then suddenly, you… stopped. So I just figured… I don’t know, really. You’ve been acting a little weird this past week, and I was sort of waiting for you to bring it up.” He moved a little closer to her. There was still so much space between them on her couch. “Are you okay, Mel? Has something happened?”

Looking into his worried eyes, full of concern for her, Mel realized she had to tell the truth. There was no other way she could think of to explain her behavior, and if she didn’t explain herself, it might irreparably damage their friendship. She couldn’t let that happen.

Telling him about her feelings for him might also damage their friendship, of course, but Mel would just have to trust that Frank would take it well. He didn’t seem like the kind of person who stopped being friends with someone just because they had a crush on him. He couldn’t be, right? Not with that face — he wouldn’t have been able to be friends with many straight women or gay men if he couldn’t handle people being attracted to him.

“I…” Mel realized she had no idea where that sentence was supposed to go, so she started again, “Okay, this is a little embarrassing, and will probably be a little confusing, so you have to promise to let me finish what I have to say before you say anything. Okay?”

Frank furrowed his brow, but nodded.

“I have, uhm, these past months… I’ve been trying to flirt with you,” Mel said. Frank’s eyes widened — did that mean he truly hadn’t noticed? Or just that he hadn’t expected her to admit to it? — but she continued, “Like, I’m not very good at it, obviously, but I looked up how to do it online, and I tried my best. Smiling more at you, making eye contact, having a more open body language, twirling my hair– Oh God, I told you this was embarrassing.”

Mel’s cheeks were burning up, and Frank was still just staring at her with impossible wide eyes. She pressed her palms to her cheeks in an effort to hide her blush. “The articles online also said to touch you more, which is why I’ve been doing that. Anyways, I should have known from the start, really, that you didn’t like me back, but … Trinity told me that flirting is a way to test the waters with someone you like, so I thought I might… Well, it was silly, and I eventually realized that you weren’t reciprocating any of my flirting and what that meant, although I probably flirted with you for much longer than I should have, and I apologize. I just… wanted to make sure.”

Frank had moved closer to her on the couch. His hand twitched where it lay between them, like he wanted to reach out to her. What a strange reaction. He probably felt bad for her and wanted to comfort her. He was always too nice to her.

“So that’s why I haven’t been touching you recently,” Mel continued. “I tried to stop flirting with you, and I guess I overcorrected. I’m really sorry. If you want, we can talk about how much you want me to touch you? I also understand if you don’t want me to touch you anymore, now that you know that it might mean something different to me than it means to you.”

For a long moment, Frank was completely silent. His eyes were roaming her face, making her feel strangely naked. Then he finally said something.

“Have you said everything you wanted to?”

Mel nodded.

“Okay, good.” He took a deep breath. The next words that came out of his mouth knocked all the breath out of Mel’s lungs. “Mel. I’m in love with you.”

Mel found herself shaking her head weakly.

Frank let out a nervous laugh. “What?”

“You’re not,” Mel whispered.

Frank moved even closer now, so the gap between them was only a few inches. He lifted his hand, silently asked for permission, then placed it on her thigh. Her skin burned where he touched her. She couldn’t decide if it was a good or bad burn. Probably both.

“No offense, but I’m pretty sure I know better what I’m feeling than you do, Mel,” Frank said. His voice was soft, kind. Always so soft, always so kind.

“But… I’ve been so obvious,” Mel argued. “Why didn’t you do anything?”

“For the same reason you didn’t, I’m guessing,” Frank replied easily. “I wasn’t sure if you were doing it on purpose or not. In fact, I was almost 100 percent sure that you weren’t doing it on purpose.”

Mel blinked. There was a lot to process in what he’d just said. First off: “What do you mean you weren’t sure if I was doing it on purpose? I was practically throwing myself at you!”

Frank laughed. It didn’t feel mean, but Mel still bristled. “I think we have pretty different definitions of throwing yourself at someone, then. I just thought you were becoming more comfortable around me. That I was becoming one of the people you could let your hair down around, so to speak. It was driving me crazy, obviously–” There was nothing obvious about that, but Mel let him continue– “but I didn’t think you were trying to drive me crazy.”

“I wasn’t trying to drive you crazy,” Mel argued.

“Mel. I almost crashed the car because of you. Several times.”

“So it was because of my hair!” Mel exclaimed, thinking of the time he’d almost ran a red light.

Frank laughed. “Obviously.”

Again, nothing obvious about that, but Mel didn’t argue. Back to what he’d said: “What do you mean you didn’t make a move for the same reason I didn’t? It’s not the same situation — I’ve been flirting with you, and you haven’t been flirting with me.”

“Mel," he said slowly, "I have been flirting with you. A lot. Probably too much.”

Mel buried her face in her hands, unable to process this. After a minute, she said through her hands, “Please expand on that, because my brain can’t really make sense of it.”

Softly, Frank started talking. “I’ve been flirting with you for a long time, Mel. Subconsciously, at first, for sure. Like, I would just get a kick out of seeing you blush when I complimented you or paid attention to you, so I’d do it more. Also because you deserve it more than anyone else in the world.” Mel’s cheeks burned.

He continued, “Then, my feelings for you just hit me right in the face. You probably don’t even remember this, but I was in the ambulance bay after a difficult case, at the end of January I wanna say, and you came out to check on me. You didn’t even say anything, but just the sight of you made me relax.” He started rubbing soothing circles into her thigh with his thumb. Mel shivered. “And I realized that I was head over heels for you. That I probably had been for a while, and just hadn’t realized it.”

Mel remembered that moment like it was yesterday. He’d thanked her, despite the fact that she hadn’t said or done anything. Her mere presence had been all he’d needed.

It was the moment he’d realized he had feelings for her.

He had feelings for her.

Holy moly.

Mel still hadn’t properly processed most of their conversation, but a pleasant shiver ran down her spine. Frank had feelings for her! Her! Her wildest dreams were coming true!

“After that, I started flirting with you on purpose,” Frank continued, still explaining like she’d asked, even though all she wanted to do right now was kiss him. “To test the waters, like you said. And I kept doing it, even though I was sure you weren’t flirting back. I just couldn’t help it. You didn’t seem uncomfortable with it, so I figured… it couldn’t hurt. Maybe it would eventually make you notice me like that, I don’t know.”

“I have noticed you like that,” Mel whispered.

“Yeah, I’ve gathered that, sweetheart,” Frank said with a soft laugh.

Oh, Mel liked that. Sweetheart.

“That night when we watched Bridget Jones, I almost kissed you,” Frank said quietly. “I had been so sure that you hadn’t done any of your flirting on purpose, but then suddenly you sat down right next to me and complimented my hands… But then Becca called, and the next day you were a lot more distant. So I figured I’d misread the situation. I was scared you’d figured out that I was into you and that you were feeling uncomfortable about it, actually.” Frank was quiet for a moment, then added with a laugh Mel could only describe as delighted, “Clearly that wasn’t the case.”

“It wasn’t,” Mel agreed softly. Her head was spinning.

“Do you want me to keep explaining, or are you good?” Frank asked after a moment. “‘Cause I can keep going, but you seem a little overwhelmed.”

“I am.” Mel finally removed her hands from her face. Frank was still looking at her, devastatingly handsome as always. This was so surreal. “In a good way, I promise.”

“Glad to hear it.” He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “‘Cause I have something else I feel I gotta say, too.”

“... Okay?”

Frank let his hand linger, stroking her cheek before he returned it to her thigh. “I really, really want you to know that you don’t need to hide your autistic traits in order to flirt. Especially not to flirt with me.”

Mel bit her lip, suddenly feeling a little uncomfortable. “I… I wasn’t…”

Frank squeezed her thigh. “Hey, this is your wheelhouse, not mine. I’m just saying that it honestly concerned me more than anything else to see you forcing yourself to act in a way that wasn’t natural to you. If you’re ever planning on flirting again, I think you should do it in whatever way feels most natural to you.”

Mel looked down at his hand on her thigh, feeling like she was about to cry. Slowly, she placed her own hand on top of his. “It was pretty exhausting,” she admitted. “And I knew I was masking, I just kind of figured it was worth it, you know? If it lead to…” To this.

“Maybe you should’ve just told me?” Frank suggested a little playfully.

“Maybe you should’ve told me,” Mel retorted.

Frank grinned. “Touché.”

For a moment, they just sat there, smiling at each other. Mel looked down at their hands, trying to gather her thoughts. Frank waited patiently.

“I… I have a few things I want to say,” Mel said eventually. Frank nodded. “First off: I am in love with you too. I realize I only said that I liked you when I explained my flirting, but that was because I didn’t want to damage our friendship more than it already would be by revealing just how deep my feelings for you are. But… They are very deep. I’m in love with you, Frank.”

Frank broke into the most beautiful smile Mel had ever seen. She desperately needed to kiss him. Which led her to the other things she wanted to say.

“I would really like to kiss you.” Before Mel had even finished her sentence, Frank was nodding enthusiastically. Mel was glad. Enthusiastic consent was important. She continued, “Then I’ll need to be alone for a bit to process all of this, because I feel like I might explode. In a good way,” she added at Frank’s worried expression. “And then I’d like to kiss you some more. If that sounds okay?”

“That sounds a lot more than okay,” Frank said, already leaning closer.

“Oh, good,” Mel breathed, before she let herself sink into the kiss.

It was a soft kiss. Frank was clearly trying to be gentle with her since she was overwhelmed, which was so sweet Mel almost melted. Her hands quickly moved to his hair, tangling her hands in it. It wasn’t as soft as she’d expected — there were definitely a lot of products in it — but it was still wonderful. It was his, and it was real, and the whole kiss was better than anything Mel could have possibly dreamed of.

Too soon, Frank broke away. His hands were cradling her face, and he stroked his thumbs carefully over her cheekbones. His eyes were full of a fondness Mel had only seen in them a handful of times before. Always directed at her. How had she not noticed that he liked her back?

“Go to your room and process,” Frank said softly. “I’ll be right here when you’re ready. And we don’t have to kiss more today if you don’t want to. We can watch a m–”

Mel interrupted him with a peck to his lips. Then she forced herself off the couch, loathe to leave Frank, but knowing she needed to sit alone in a dark room for a little while before she could function properly again. She’d just been attacked with an onslaught of wonderful, life-changing information, and her brain could only handle so much before it turned into mush.

She didn’t want her brain to be mush when she made out with Frank. Not bad mush, at least.

She pointed at Frank sternly as she walked backwards to her bedroom. “We’re kissing later. If we’re watching a movie, it’ll be on in the background. While we kiss. Okay?”

Frank grinned, and saluted her. “Yes, ma’am.”