Chapter Nine
ADDISON
“I know exactly what we’re going to do,” Frankie says, practically jumping me as soon as I step into Roasted the next morning. Far too early in the morning, if you ask me.
“Um.” I blink, taking in the bustle of the coffee shop and noting there’s only one table open. Is this what the world is always like before nine a.m.?
“What?” I say, blinking again as Frankie bounces on their toes in front of me.
“Glitter bombs.”
More blinking, some squinting, another glance around the coffee shop. Did they just say glitter bombs?
“What?” I say again.
Frankie’s head tilts and they eye me. “Right, coffee first. Wait…”
Then they also glance around, their gaze landing on the vintage grandfather clock against one wall.
“Uh, Addison?”
“What?”
They grin and bite their lip, and I realize I’ve only said two words so far today, one of them repeated three times. I grimace.
“Did you get up early for me?” they say.
“No,” I grumble as I try not to stomp to the open table.
“You did!”
I can hear their grin as they follow me, and it tugs an answering smile from my lips. I absolutely did. It’s impossible to be cranky around Frankie, even if it is an ungodly hour.
I slouch into the seat and set my yellow work bag on the table, then fold my arms on top of it and drop my head on them.
Anything before nine a.m. is an obnoxious time to be awake.
I hate it. My eyes are closed and I can feel the sun warming my hair through the window as I wonder where Frankie went.
My question is answered a few minutes later.
“Your coffee, my sleepy Addison.”
Their Addison. I like that.
“Please,” I groan, already reaching for the warm mug.
“Ohhh, I like the sound of that,” Frankie winks and I roll my eyes. I’m not functional enough yet to deal with their flirtatious antics, but I like it regardless.
“I’ll come back when you’re awake,” they say with a laugh and spin on their heel, black boots scuffing the floor as they make their way around the tables.
I sip my latte, confused by what flavor they added to it today.
It’s not one I’ve tasted before, and trying to figure it out helps my brain start to wake up.
My eyes trail Frankie’s curly head as it bobs and weaves around the coffee shop.
I don’t even pull out my laptop yet, knowing I won’t get any work done and no one will expect me to be online this early anyway.
Frankie’s enthusiasm and charm fill the space, their laughter floating above the music, and I realize I feel at home here.
I’m not looking over my shoulder, waiting for someone I don’t want to see to pop up and invade my space. I’m calm, content, and more carefree than I can ever remember feeling.
Frankie catches my eye and saunters over.
“You awake?” they say and I laugh.
“I’m awake,” I reply. “Did you say something about glitter bombs earlier? Or…” Was that a dream? Did I imagine it?
“I did!” They plop into the seat next to me, snuggling their leg between mine under the table.
“Okay… ”
“That’s how we get back at your exes. We send them glitter bombs! They’ll be living in glitter for weeks, months!” Their voice is so excited, I can’t help but smile even though it makes me think about Sabrina and Benji again.
“Unless they like glitter?” Frankie says, dubious.
“I don’t recall either of them having an inclination toward enjoying glitter.”
“Excellent.” Frankie claps their hands like a manic evil wizard.
“You’re a bit devious,” I say with a laugh. “I like it.”
“Genius, right?” They grin, and I grin back, nodding my head. I think I like this plan.
Frankie asks for my phone, somehow already knowing I haven’t turned it back on yet, and I dig it out of my bag. When I pass it to them, they angle it away from me, and raise an eyebrow in question before continuing.
I nod and turn away, looking out the window as I sip my coffee. I nearly moan at the taste, I have got to ask Frankie what they put in it this morning.
“Alright,” Frankie says, an indeterminable amount of time later, as I spaced out a bit with my eyes closed and the warm sun bathing my face.
I turn back to them, not liking their serious expression.
“I think you should block them,” Frankie says. “I also think…” but they trail off, not finishing the sentence.
“You think, what?” I’m apprehensive, assuming I’m not going to like what they have to say.
“I think you should keep proof of their shit, but I don’t want you to have it. I propose that you let me take some screenshots, send them to myself, then delete all evidence so you never have to see it.” Their words fly out rapid fire and it takes me a moment to catch up.
“Okay,” I say. That’s not so bad. I already told Frankie pretty much everything, and they saw enough when I was in the bathroom last night to know how bad it can get. I don’t want to hide anymore, especially not from Frankie.
“Okay?”
“Yeah,” I shrug.
“You’re much more chill about this than I thought you would be,” they say, almost suspicious.
“I’m sick of it. I’ve thought about blocking them before, but…” I don’t want to say the next words. I already know how it’ll sound and what Frankie’s response will be, but they wait for me to finish. “It just seems mean, and I feel bad.”
“Setting boundaries and protecting yourself isn’t mean, Addison,” Frankie says, laying their hand on my forearm.
“What those two are doing is horrible, and by you allowing it you’re also harming yourself.
Blocking them, that’s not mean. You’re not doing anything wrong.
They can still send whatever shit they want to, but they don’t have a right to you.
They don’t get unsolicited access. There’s nothing mean or wrong or bad about that. ”
“I know. You’re right, and I know that, it’s just hard to actually do it.”
“Do you want me to do it?”
I consider for a moment, tempted to accept, but this feels significant and I want to do it myself. I shake my head.
“No, I want to, but I’d like you to do the other part first.”
“The screenshots?”
“Yeah,” I nod. “But, I don’t want to see it. Maybe you could take my phone for a bit so I’m not as distracted by everything.”
Frankie’s hand squeezes where it still rests on my arm, then they tangle their fingers with mine.
I look at their darker bronze skin, a soft contrast against my own sun-tanned coloring, and I like how we look together.
I like their hand in mine, our fingers twisted together so there’s no telling where one starts and the other stops.
I squeeze back, then meet their steady gaze.
“I’ll take care of it,” Frankie says, standing with a chin jerk toward my coffee. “You focus on getting that beautiful brain online so you can get some work done and we can play later.”
They smirk at the color I’m sure is tinting my cheeks. I don’t know what “play later” means to them, but if it’s anything like what it means to me… yes, please.
~~ ~
Frankie returns when they catch me leaning back in my chair a few hours later, arms stretched out to my sides. I got a decent amount of work done today, likely due to not having my phone.
“Get your work done?” Frankie asks. They lean one hip against the table next to me.
“For the most part. I’ll have to head back so I have some privacy for phone calls, but that’s it for today.”
Frankie is holding my phone, tapping it lightly against their open palm, and I grimace when my eyes snag on it.
“Ready for this back?”
I take a breath and straighten my shoulders.
“I’m ready.”
Frankie hands it over and pulls a chair out, scooting it right next to me.
“I think I want to say one final thing to them,” I murmur, the thought only now crossing my mind. That I don’t want them to have the last word. That I want to stand up for myself in a more direct way.
“Okay,” Frankie says.
They slide a hand to my thigh under the table and squeeze once, their hazel eyes showing nothing but confidence in me.
I open my phone, seeing my message list devoid of both Sabrina and Benji. Frankie must have already deleted the message chains from both of them individually, as well as the group chat they added me to.
I start a new one with both Benji and Sabrina, and my fingers hover over the keyboard as I decide what I want to say.
Addison: You’ve both treated me horribly. I want you to know that this is it, I’m done. I’m blocking both of you and I hope you’ll respect my request for you both to leave me alone .
I think about adding a “goodbye” or “thank you” — the polite, people pleasing side of me squirming with nerves at how direct and rude that message feels.
But then Frankie nods slowly next to me.
A slight, seemingly subconscious movement that I catch in my periphery.
I don’t think they intended for me to see it, but I do, and I hit send.
Quickly, I click into my contacts and find Benji first, hovering over his name for only a millisecond before I scroll to the bottom and hit the “block” button.
When I get to Sabrina’s name, I hesitate. She was the center of my world for nearly two years, and the hurt I’ve endured as a result of her actions has been devastating. My heart is still bruised, confused.
Frankie tucks their chin on my shoulder, curls their arm around my waist, and their curly hair tickles my ear. A tiny smile tilts my lips at the sensation, at their nearness and unwavering support. It gives me the strength I need to block her too, and I toss my phone down with a puff of air.
Frankie kisses my cheek, then murmurs a quick “proud of you, sweets” before standing and returning to the counter and waiting line of customers.
~~~
The afternoon at Everly’s passes slowly, and I keep finding myself checking my phone for messages in between calls, apprehension lining my gut until I remember that I blocked them. My two biggest mistakes won’t be bothering me anymore.
I send Frankie a message, inviting them over when they’re done with work, then I stare out the window, contemplating the position I’m in.
I think I’m falling for them, but I’m also only here in Stone Ridge for a few more days.
I don’t know how we would make this work.
I don’t think either of us are cut out for long distance, and Frankie has only ever left this tiny town once.
It seems like ages since they picked me up from the airport, but in reality it was only five days ago.
Their entire life is here and I can’t ask them to uproot everything for me .
And my life is in San Diego. My job, everything I know and am used to. The beach house I inherited when our parents passed that holds some of the most precious memories I have.
There’s a tiny wiggle in the back of my brain, a thought gaining traction every time I avoid this topic. Is it much of a life, though? I turn away from it again, not ready to face it yet, and focus on the excessively eager dog shoving a toy into my lap instead.
Frankie shows up later with a bag of baked sweet potato treats for Moose and his enthusiastic tail nearly takes out a side table.
We spend the evening chatting, then making out on the couch like horny teenagers, then we get up and take Moose for a walk after dark when it’s cooled off a bit outside.
Frankie reluctantly gets ready to leave, and I begrudgingly let them, since they have to wake up at an unfathomable time for work tomorrow morning.
We spend too long kissing goodbye, yet somehow it’s still not enough.
Me pressing them up against the side of their beat-up truck.
Their hands gripping my ass through my leggings.
My hand cupping their jaw and tracing circles on the back of their neck.
Shivers running up and down both of our spines.
Finally, we break apart.
“I really have to go,” Frankie says. The stars twinkle in the night sky above us.
“I know,’ I say, leaning in for more.
Frankie’s lips smile against mine, then they nip my bottom lip and lightly push me back.
“Fine,” I sigh. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
Their truck rumbles down the driveway and I watch the glow of the tail lights as they turn down the road.
The last thought I have before bed is that I never did ask what was in that latte earlier.