Sixteen
SIXTEEN
ALEXANDER
‘ T he light is so much better over here,’ I said.
‘Good,’ Francesca laughed. ‘Because that dresser was a pain to move.’
While I’d tried to do my best to look unfazed, she wasn’t lying. The ancient dresser had put up a good fight. But what my girl wanted, I’d get for her.
The window light gave the perfect look she was going for. We’d laid in bed, in between sweaty, steamy sessions, and studied profile after profile, Francesca poring over each detail while I salivated over the glossy, sticky, colourful treats.
Naturally, I’d made far too many jokes about making her leak cream or kneading her.
‘Okay, so we need a closeup as I mix in the cherries, maybe a slow motion shot?’ Francesca may defer to me in the bedroom, but the kitchen was wholly her domain. Anywhere within fifteen metres of the oven; her word was the law.
The cherry mixture gave a wet slop as she stirred, glistening perfectly in the soft window light. Focusing on the screen behind the camera became more difficult by the moment. Francesca glowed, her cheeks delightfully pink, her smile full.
‘Stop staring at me,’ she giggled. ‘Eyes down or I’ll take the wooden spoon to you.’
‘I’ve had worse threats.’
‘Hush. How are you so insatiable?’
‘How are you so irresistible?’ I countered.
‘Did you get the shot?’
‘Of course.’
‘Such a good boy,’ she said, inflecting her voice the way I do when I call her a good girl in bed, a devilish gleam in her eyes. Warmth swarmed me. I adored her brattier side.
Putting the phone down, I grabbed her around the waist, laughing as her mixing spoon grazed her throat, red, shiny glaze marking her neck.
Without hesitation, I stooped to lick her throat.
‘Fuck, is there anything you make that doesn’t taste good?’
‘Yeah. Jacket potatoes are always either hard in the middle or cooked so long they turn a mushy yellow and sweet.’ Her pulse quickened beneath my tongue.
‘Well, it’s a good thing I’m a dab hand and baking a potato. Between the two of us, we’ll be unstoppable.’
Francesca squealed when I lifted her, twirling us around and seating her on the kitchen island, pulling her against me and kissing along her lower lip.
I greedily stole a kiss, pouring myself into her, holding none of myself back. Never had I given my all to someone else, and while fear bubbled, I couldn’t keep anything from her.
Francesca broke the kiss, leaning her forehead against mine, her eyes closing.
‘What are we going to do when my parents come home tomorrow?’
Taking a breath, I wallowed in the question for a moment. Was she looking for an answer, or reassurance?
‘We could tell them?’
From the way her nose crinkled, that was a no.
‘I’m not ready. You don’t know what they are like.’
Running my hands up into her hair, I pulled her face to mine, planting a kiss on the end of her nose.
‘Back to being sneaky?’
‘If that’s okay?’ Her thick lashes framed those pretty eyes which had all but stolen my soul the minute I first saw them.
‘I’ll be your dirty little secret as long as you’ll have me.’ I’d hoped to elicit a smile. Instead, her teeth grazed her lower lip, trepidation in the clenching of her jaw.
‘We can always tell Nick. You can come to mine.’
‘No. I don’t want to wreck the time you have left with him. We’ll just have to be careful.’
Such a sweet thing to worry about me.
‘I’m not sure there’s much left to ruin,’ I mumbled, tipping her chin up and dragging a finger over her pouty lower lip.
‘We only have one week left. Let’s enjoy it without the drama from either of our families. Just you and me.’
Just you and me.
Only one week left. One week before she moves on with her life. Until she goes back to college and forgets all about me. Will I even become a memory? A hazy ghost of that one hot summer by the lake.
I had a feeling that Frankie wouldn’t be a spectre to me. She’d be an all-consuming hurricane, my heart left in pieces whenever I thought of her. How had I fallen so hard, so fast?
I couldn’t voice it to her. I didn’t want guilt following her after summer died. She needs to finish school. To find a guy her own age. Hopefully, with a bit more mettle behind her where she won’t take shit like she did with Nick.
‘It’ll all be okay, baby.’
I don’t know if the words comforted either of us.