Chapter Thirteen
ADDISON
It’s only mid-afternoon, too early for many others to be here on a random weekday, so we head into the bar and have our pick of the seats. I request something fruity and sweet, while Frankie orders a spiked Arnold Palmer.
“Not what I expected you’d get,” I say, sipping from the straw that came with my frozen pink drink. It’s sweet and tastes like summer. I suck down more of the alcoholic juice.
“What did you expect me to get?” Frankie says, one eyebrow cocked as they raise the glass to their lips. My eyes follow the movement and get hooked on their mouth as they swallow and then lick their lips.
“I don’t know, something more badass I guess.”
“You think I’m badass?”
I glance pointedly at their very badass boots, then let my eyes trail the tattoos lining their skin. They shrug and nudge their knee into mine.
“Oh wait!” I gasp, appalled. “We didn’t toast or cheers or anything!”
Frankie holds their glass up, then says, “Cheers,” when I clink mine to theirs.
“Oh my god, you’re ridiculous,” I laugh.
“Excuse you,” Frankie says, a mock scowl on their face. “I’ll have you know I’m very badass.”
A laugh rips out of me as I tip my head back, loving this side of Frankie. I bring my glass to theirs again, relishing their pleased grin.
“I’ll do it,” I say. “Cheers to setting boundaries, standing up for ourselves, and not letting mean people get in the way of our happiness.”
Frankie stares at me for a moment, then raises their glass.
“Yeah okay, I’ll definitely drink to that.”
They take a long gulp and the ice clinks against the side of the glass when they set it back down, half empty. We spend the next hour chatting, flirting, perhaps drinking a little more than we should on a weekday.
Somehow we end up on the topic of our current reads, and decide a trip to Crooked Books is in order.
We wobble down the street, clinging to each other and laughing when I trip over the curb and stumble into Frankie’s arms. There may not have actually been a curb there, but who’s going to know? Certainly not us.
We stumble into Crooked Books and Frankie loudly shushes me.
“Shh gotta be quiet,” they slur, “Mrs. Langdon hayfus—hates… fuss.”
We take turns “shh”-ing each other as we weave our way to the back where the romance books are shelved. We’re only a few feet from our destination when Mrs. Langdon pops out from the aisle next to us.
“Ah shit,” Frankie says. “Shhhhoot.”
“Shhhhh,” I say, and Frankie stares at me.
“No shhh, she’s already caught us,” Frankie says.
I blink and look around, remembering we were being quiet to avoid Mrs. Langdon, not because we’re in a library. Because this isn’t a library. The harried bookstore owner is glowering at the two of us, her hands on her hips and a scowl lining her age-worn face.
“Oops, sorry,” I whisper, and Frankie cackles.
Mrs. Langdon starts talking too fast for me to understand, something about hooligans and unnecessary noise, as she puts a hand on each of our shoulders and bodily turns us around. I don’t know what she’s talking about, we were being perfectly polite and neither of us was being loud.
She’s muttering under her breath as she ushers us back toward the door, pulling us this way and that and scolding Frankie. Apparently they ‘know better’ whatever that means.
“We jus’ wanted a look, a book, Mrs. Langdon,” I say, trying to plead our case. “Issssat too much to ask for?”
“In your current state it most certainly is!” she exclaims, opening the door and hustling us out.
I spin around, ready to ask for a second chance, but the door is already swinging closed. It snaps shut right in front of my nose and I pull up short, then see her flip the lock while glaring at me from just inside the glass. Her nose is only inches from mine.
I huff, then turn back to Frankie, only to see them folded over a few feet away.
“Frankie?” I ask, stumbling over to them.
They’re wheezing, but when they look up, it’s because they’re laughing so hard they can’t breathe. I don’t know what’s funny, but I start laughing too, and soon we’re sitting on the sidewalk, leaning into each other with tears streaming down our faces.
When I can finally catch my breath, I ask, “What was so funny?”
“What?” Frankie says.
We both crack up again at that, and it’s in this moment that I realize I’m beyond tipsy and well into drunk territory.
“I never,” Frankie says between gasps of laughter. “I always wondered how… what it was like… to be kicked out by Mrs. Langdon!”
I stare, bewildered as they try to rein in their choking laughs.
Eventually, we help each other stand, then bob and sway our way back to Everly’s house.
“Hi cute boy,” I say, scratching Moose on his rump as his tail thwacks my legs. “At least you’re happy to see us, yes you are.”
Frankie orders pizza for a late dinner, and we settle onto the couch, flipping to a reality show on the TV .
It’s not long before I’m tipping sideways, sinking into the couch and snuggling into Frankie as my eyes get heavier with each blink.
I feel arms around me, hear footfalls on the stairs, smell the comforting scent of the sheets on my bed. A wet nose presses to my hand before blankets are pulled on top of me and I curl into them with a hum of contentment, already sinking back into the darkness.
I hear a whine that almost rouses me, then a whisper as steps softly pad away.
“I know, I want to be in the bed with her too…” the voice says. A voice I really like, one that I wish would stay with me, but I’m not even sure if it’s real, and before I know it, I’m lost to sleep.
~~~
I wake up the next morning to a slight headache, and the delicious smell of coffee with a side helping of embarrassment.
Last night could have—should have—been a great night, but I had to go and fall asleep!
Like some sort of amateur. My grand ideas of celebrating and then getting tossed around a bit seem unattainable now, after my abysmal performance last night.
I snag a throw blanket and wrap it around my shoulders, then take in a deliciously cozy looking Frankie sitting up on the couch. Sleep-rumpled curls, wearing only a button down flannel and sipping a cup of heaven. I walk right up to them, following my nose until it nearly bumps into Frankie’s mug.
Frankie takes a sip, raising their eyebrows at me over the rim as my eyes follow the mug to their lips. After taking a sip, they barely tip it in my direction, and my hands dart up without my permission, slipping over top of Frankie’s hands around the mug.
I inhale again, the comforting coffee scent easing the tension in my neck as I take a sip and close my eyes. I don’t register the moan coming from the back of my throat, or that I’m still gripping Frankie’s hands around the mug, until they pointedly clear their throat .
I open my eyes, only to realize I’m inches from Frankie, who didn’t move back when I invaded their space.
Our eyes catch and hold. Have I ever seen more captivating hazel eyes?
Light brown with flecks of chocolate and gold, framed by dark, thick lashes.
One eye has a tiny freckle right below the outer corner.
I reach up with one fingertip and touch it, light as a feather, and then Moose shoves between us.
The moment breaks as a slobbery toy is thrust into my thigh and I squeak with alarm as I attempt to hold my hands steady and avoid spilling coffee over all three of us.
“Moose!” I say, then slowly release my hands from the mug, although my eyes linger on the divine beverage a moment longer than necessary.
“I’ll go make you some,” Frankie says, humor lining their voice.
“Oh no, that’s okay,” I say. “I can do it.”
Frankie just waves at me to sit down as they stride into the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with a basic vanilla latte.
“Thank you,” I say, being mindful not to moan as I take a sip this time.
“No problem,” Frankie says. “I gotta head out, though. I’ve left the kids alone at the shop long enough I think.”
I nod, still lost in my coffee, and Frankie slips a hand through my tangled hair, then tilts my face up to theirs. They step closer and lean down, hovering over me on the couch.
“Will I see you there later?” Frankie says.
“Yeah,” I say, my reply breathy as they lightly tug my hair.
“See you later, then.”
A barely there brush of their lips against mine, and then they’re gone, the truck rumbling down the driveway. I’m left with Moose giving me puppy-dog eyes and a disgusting toy that I pick up and toss across the room, smiling at his antics as he bounds after it.
Franki e
We spend two blissful days avoiding the topic of Addison’s looming departure, “working” together at the coffee shop—Addison on her laptop and me behind the counter.
Until I can’t handle not touching her, which happens nearly every hour, and I wander over to rub her neck or twine my fingers through her hair or drop a kiss on her lips.
She smiles every time, sweet thing that she is, and it lights me up inside.
I know we need to talk about us. About our relationship, and what we’re going to do when Everly and Asim get back tomorrow and Addison has to leave shortly after that.
We both keep pushing it away to focus on other, more physical aspects of our relationship.
That side of things could not be going better.
I suspect neither of us has a good answer to what we’re going to do, though, and that worries me. I’m determined to make it work, I just need to hear her thoughts first. I need to hear her say she feels the same way, that she wants me.
That it’s us, together.
Addison pops back into the shop right before closing this evening, looking like a sun-drenched goddess in the golden hour light and wearing a bright orange and yellow sundress.
The hem hits a few inches above her knees, and the top ties across her breasts so there’s a peek of skin just below them, two straps looping over her shoulders and down her back.
I’m pretty sure she’s not wearing a bra and it’s turning my thoughts feral.
She saunters up to the counter, a sinful smile curving her lips. I lean over it, my hand automatically cradling her head as I pull her in for a kiss.
Tori walks out of the backroom and sounds like she swallowed her tongue.
“Gah, gross,” she says. “Can you guys like, not do that right over the pastry case?”
I glance down, realizing she has a good point, then shuffle Addison down the counter until I can swing around the end and tug her body into mine.
“Okay for real? How about just, not in here at all,” Tori drawls, and I cut away from Addison’s lips again to glare at her.
“Go home, Tori.”
“I haven’t finished cleaning up yet.”
“I’ll do it,” I say, needing to get her out of here so I can enjoy my woman.
“I can help,” Addison chimes in, taking a step back from me.
I groan at the interruption but toss her a rag, then turn to wipe down the counter as quickly as I can.
I glance up to see her bent over a table, short dress riding up her thighs as she presses onto her toes to reach all the way across.
My breath catches in my throat and I throw my rag down, then slip up behind her.
I press my hips into her ass and Addison jerks up, a surprised “oh” on her lips.
“Don’t stop on my account,” I murmur, my hands gripping her hips as my breath ruffles the hair behind her ear. “You look good enough to eat, bent over the table like that. I wanna hike your skirt up and take a taste.”
Addison’s chest flushes and I grin. She hasn’t moved a muscle.
“Maybe you need a cute little maid outfit. I’ll put you to work and reward you for good behavior.”
I feel her breath hitch this time and she turns toward me. I’m surprised she doesn’t snark back at me, but when I see her biting her lip, blue eyes blazing with desire, an answering pulse heats my body. Is she into role play? Is my sweet Addison kinkier than anyone would expect?
“You like that idea, sweets?”
She nods, so I grip her hair in my fist and slowly lower her mouth to mine, taking my time devouring her until I’m satisfied that she’s the perfect amount of boneless in my arms.