Bubblegum
DAPHNE
There’s almost nobody around as Frankie and I head outside and into the warm summer night, so we make our way over to a picnic table near the back of the shop, and clamber on top.
It’s a good little spot, a bit out of the way, and you can see the lights from the houses in the distance, lit up against the gorgeous mountains that watch over this place.
I wrote some great songs out here.
“Are you sure Violet’s gonna be okay by herself?” Frankie asks.
I smile. It’s sweet how much he cares, and it almost makes it feel like this isn’t just a convenient arrangement for the two of us.
“I promise, she’s fine. She’s got her phone on her, and she’s always been a deep sleeper. I don’t even think the zombie apocalypse would wake her up.”
I’m starting to think this is going to be really painful when it’s all over.
“You still get bubblegum, huh?” He asks, watching as I lick away at my cone.
“Yep. Hux says it’s an abomination, but—”
“He’s right. It’s vile.”
I give him a quick nudge with my shoulder.
“When I was pregnant with Violet it was the only thing I wanted to eat. You’d think I’d get sick of it, but… no dice. Besides, it’s hard to find someone who does good bubblegum ice cream. Most of the time, it tastes like sugar and chemicals.”
“As opposed to…?”
I ruffle his curls.
“So judgmental.”
“Well, someone’s gotta stand up to big-bubblegum in this marriage, and if no one else is willing to bear that cross, it may as well be me.”
I watch the water ripple gently as a few ducks, who must be up well past their bedtime, dive for food just beneath the surface. Frankie smiles as they kick their little feet in the air. He looks… well, beautiful isn’t quite the word to describe it.
Angelic?
Luminescent?
Yikes, that’s dramatic.
Might help brainstorming song ideas, though.
“It’s nice to be out here alone. Well, not alone, but—”
“Without a camera around you?”
“Yeah,” I chuckle. “I’m a little too used to being watched.
Sometimes it’s hard to raise V because we can’t leave the house or even breathe without it winding up as the internet’s new obsession.
I went to buy her a ring for her birthday, back in December; just a cute little sapphire because it’s her birthstone.
The next day, I found out I was all over HotGoss, with everyone theorizing that I was buying myself a fucking engagement ring.
And I know I should just let people talk, and filter out all the bullshit, but… ”
“It’s hard to do,” Frankie finishes. “We rely on the opinions of our peers, it’s how we’re socialized. We’re pretty much wired that way.”
Frankie’s always been able to ground me, even back in school. Whenever I’d panic or fly off the handle, he was always there with the cold, hard facts to soothe my frazzled nerves.
“That’s a good point, I guess I just wish we weren’t so connected sometimes. The phones and socials and shit? It makes it harder to get away with stuff.”
“Are you planning on committing a crime or something?” He chuckles. “Rob a bank? Cook some meth with Walter White? What are we talking about here?”
He’s got a playful energy about him tonight. I don’t know if the last few days cracked something open, but he feels more like the old Frankie— you know, minus the nose ring, the tattoos, and the dick piercing.
“More like… this.”
I lean over toward him, holding his gaze until the last possible second before dipping my head and taking a big bite out of his ice cream.
“You left teeth marks!” Frankie yelps. “What kind of a freak bites an ice cream cone!”
“People bite ice cream cones all the time!” I giggle, wiping some of the remnants from my chin.
“That is not true. This is a criminal offense! Officer!” He glances around, pointing at me. “Throw this one in the slammer! She’s unhinged!”
My laughter sounds like a balloon leaking air, and soon the two of us are leaning up against each other, giggling like idiots.
Just like old times.
“You’re a brat, Firecracker.” He wipes the tears away from his eyes. “And I think maybe you always have been.”
“And you like brats?” I tease.
“I like a little bit of a challenge.”
He sure seems to. In fact, I think it gets him off.
“Good to know.” I dab some of his ice cream up with my finger, smearing it across my lips. “I guess if you want the rest of this back, you’ll have to kiss me for it.”
Frankie blinks, his eyes filling with trepidation.
“I don’t usually kiss.”
I think he’s telling the truth, but I can see the ghost of a smile tugging at his mouth that makes me endlessly curious. What does that even mean?
“You don’t?”
Why can he devour me like a Christmas ham in an amusement park, but he can’t kiss me?
“Not typically, no— I mean, the last time was a few years ago, but I usually get permission.”
“Frankie, I’ve licked wine off your cock, you don’t need to ask permission to kiss me.” I start to gnaw on my lip, a little unsure what to think. “Does it freak you out or something?”
He scoffs, shaking his head, but when he doesn’t answer I nudge him again, nearly knocking his cone onto the ground.
“Daph—”
“It’s a serious question. Are you afraid of that kind of intimacy?”
Maybe that was a little too direct. I’ve spent a lot of time with journalists digging into me for something sensational to write about, so I know better than most how some questions feel like daggers.
“I’m sorry.” I sigh, raising my hand before he can answer. “I shouldn’t be interrogating you like this, it’s fucking weird.”
“No, it’s– Don’t apologize.” He’s quiet for a moment while I stew in my humiliation. “I’m not afraid. Seriously, I’m not. But it does make me… nervous.”
I quirk a brow.
“Look, I might have gotten a C in English, but I’m pretty sure being nervous is basically the same as being afraid.”
“No, it’s not.”
“It is!” I laugh. “It’s fear!”
“Let’s call it Diet Fear.”
I put my hand on his knee, giving it a reassuring squeeze as he struggles to find the right words to say.
“It’s a different level of intimacy than I’m used to. I guess the person I’m kissing has to be special.”
“Oh, sure, that makes sense.”
And there’s that pang of disappointment again, right through the heart.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean that you’re not special, because you are— you’re fun, and cool, and…” He starts to stammer. “I—”
“We don’t have to kiss, Frankie.”
“But I want to!”
He finally manages to spit the truth out, pink-cheeked and full of nerves.
“It just feels like… a line. One I don’t think we should cross, you know?”
Some might say we already crossed most major lines by fucking in a haunted house, moving in together, and, oh I don’t know, getting married? I think a lot of people in our position would have signed the papers and lived their separate lives, and just did the bare minimum to get what we needed.
But maybe Frankie’s string is too wound up in mine.
No matter the time, place, or circumstance.
It can stretch, it can tangle, but it never ever breaks.
I reach up to fiddle with my pendant.
“Actually, now that you mention it, I was a little surprised you never kissed me at the ceremony.”
“Yeah, I know the handshake felt weird. Sorry if it was…”
“I mean, to be fair to you, this is all a little weird.”
“That’s true.” He smiles at me, finally starting to look a little less stressed again. “I kinda like weird, though. Anything to upset the order of things.”
Frankie’s never bothered trying to be cool, instead embracing the hobbies and interests that made him… well, him. Whether that was playing Dungeons and Dragons in the library at lunch or trading Pokemon cards with other students, he didn’t really give a shit what anyone thought about him.
I always admired that.
“Is that why you wore those button-up shirts with the blue flames on them in high school?”
Still, I’ve got to roast him a little bit.
“Oh, come on! It was the 2000s, it was practically a different universe back then! And you’re one to talk, with those Uggs and the velour tracksuits that made you look like a football mascot.”
“Oh my god, shut the fuck up!” I cackle.
“I think that beats my flame shirts, if we’re being honest with ourselves.”
Frankie once told me I was meant to be bigger than this place could hold, but the longer I’m back here, the more I wish that wasn’t true.
I don’t want to be the Heartbreak Queen, splashed onto the front pages of HotGoss, when I’m here in Emerald Bay.
I want to shrink back down to that older version of me.
I just want to be Daphne.
“So, what’s the best kiss you’ve ever had?” He asks, cutting through the silence.
He’s looking out over the water, like he’s lost in thought.
“That’s quite the transition.”
“Indulge me.”
I run through it in my head for a bit, not fully sure how to respond.
“Well, I’m pretty sure there are actually two answers.”
He smiles, still staring off into the middle-distance.
“Okay, one at a time then.”
“First one that comes to mind was backstage at one of my early shows. This, uh… this guy Oliver. He plays guitar in my band. He’s Shaun Slater’s son, you know the guitarist for Revolver?”
“Yeah. My mom had a few of their albums. I think they’re still in the house.”
“Well, the two of us were wrestling and being stupid with each other after soundcheck, but there was this energy that I couldn’t really explain. He was like a magnet, and at one point he… I mean I guess he just grabbed my face and kissed me. It felt impulsive, and dangerous, and fucking hot.”
“Okay.” He laughs. “Those are big shoes to fill.”
He dips his finger into my ice cream, smearing it on my lip, and my chest tightens as he finally turns to meet my gaze. Then, he just leans in, gently pressing his lips to mine before carefully licking them clean.
“Bubblegum might not be that bad after all.”
I grin.
“You want more, pretty boy?”
“I want all of you.”
Our lips brush and electricity surges down my spine as Frankie wraps one hand around the back of my neck, his mouth pressing against mine in a slow, but searing kiss.
My head starts to feel fuzzy, the same way it does after a strong drink, and I get so lost in our kiss that I nearly drop my ice cream just so I can hold him with both hands.
He groans, biting down on my lip and tugging until I break away.
“Fuck, that’s hot,” he growls.
“Yeah?” I glide my hand up his thigh. “You wanna make me moan for you? You could bend me over this table.”
His deep, rumbling laughter makes my skin tingle.
“I’d love to, but I’m pretty sure that car behind you wasn’t there a couple minutes ago… and I’m very sure he’s taking pictures.”
I glance over my shoulder to see a black sports car pulled up a short distance away from us. And the driver has a camera in front of his face.
I want to be annoyed, but we’ll try a softer approach this time… and one that won’t have Damien sending apology emails tomorrow morning. I wave, taking a few steps towards the car before he rolls down his window and leans out.
“How’s your night, Daphne?”
I immediately recognize him as the same guy from the carnival. Huxley did manage to get him to say some nice things about us instead of absolute trash, so maybe there’s a chance.
“Not bad! How ‘bout you?”
“Pretty good. What flavor did you get?”
“Bubblegum!”
He lowers his camera, putting it on the dash of his car.
“That’s my kid’s favorite.”
“How old is she?”
“Six! She’s starting kindergarten this year.”
It doesn’t always work, but sometimes a bit of conversation’s all you need.
“That’s a great age. Remember to take lots of pictures, because they grow up way too fast.”
He grins, reaching for his camera.
“Hey, sorry I didn’t ask earlier, but do you mind if I…?”
“No problem. Just make sure they know I have good taste in ice cream.”
He snaps a few more photos of us, giving a quick nod before revving the engine.
“Thanks a lot you two, have a good rest of your night!”
“You too!”
As I walk back toward the table I see the most surprised look on Frankie’s face.
“You didn’t kill him.”
I shrug.
“He deleted the pictures of Violet from the other day, and he didn’t say anything bad about us. You’ve gotta pick your battles.”
Frankie sighs.
“Well, I personally can’t wait to see those pictures tomorrow in my group chat.”
I give him a playful little wink, hopping back down on the table next to him.
“Aww, I’m sure you’ll survive.”
“You don’t know my friends,” he laughs. “They’re ruthless.”
“I’d like to meet them.”
“That’d be cool.”
I want to know the people who shaped him, loved him, and gave him a safe place to fall. His new little family.
“I was thinking about re-opening the bar on my birthday. Maybe we could throw a grand opening party?”
“So long as there’s karaoke,” he chuckles.
“It wouldn’t be The Hi-Dive without it.”
I still don’t know if I’m ready to take on this bar— I have a load of things on my to-do list and that’s assuming the renovations actually get done on time.
I’ve got a pile of resumes to go through for staffing, bills to work out, and that’s not even mentioning what we’re actually going to do for the grand re-opening.
But despite all that, somehow I feel like it’s all just going to—
“So, who was the other kiss? The one that’s tied for the best?”
I pause, my blood turning to ice, but my phone chimes in my purse before I have to answer.
“Uh, sorry, one second!”
I fumble for it, doing my best to keep from dripping ice cream all over the vintage leather. It looks like there’s only a few missed texts, the first two from a conspicuously unknown number:
UNKNOWN NUMBER
Are you with him?
UNKNOWN NUMBER
Answer me, Daphne.
Of course.
I swallow the anxiety and rage that’s already building up inside me and just let it smolder, adding this new one to a long list of blocked numbers.
Thankfully, the last message has a much warmer tone.
“Sorry Frankie, looks like we’re back on the clock.”
I get to my feet, flashing him the screen.
V
You’d better be bringing some strawberry ice cream home, and it is WAY past your bedtime!
“No rest for the wicked.”