Chapter Thirty-Two #2
Willa
Willa sat cross-legged in bed wearing nothing but Frankie’s hoodie, legs tangled in blankets, half a glass of wine on the nightstand, and her phone glowing in her palm.
She wasn’t refreshing Twitter obsessively… except she absolutely was.
The feed was on fire.
SHE’S SINGING STAY RIGHT HERE AGAIN!!!!!
I’m crying in section 103. I knew she’d only sing it if that girl was back.
It’s the Side B girl. Willa. Look it up.
WILLA ARCHER IS BACK BABY. FRANKILLA RISE.
Stay Right Here is back on the setlist. So is Frankie’s smile.
Willa laughed into her wine glass, cheeks aching from how hard she was grinning. The sound bubbled out of her, uncontainable. The kind of laugh that felt like pure oxygen after months of holding her breath.
She set the glass down, still scrolling, half in awe that the world could feel this soft again.
* * *
Her phone buzzed just after midnight.
Incoming FaceTime: Frankie
Willa didn’t hesitate. Her hand shot out like it had been waiting all night.
She was already curled in bed, Frankie’s hoodie loose around her, sleeves halfway down her hands, still warm with memory.
She answered—and there she was.
Frankie’s face filled the screen, damp curls falling over her shoulders, cheeks pink from her post-show shower, hotel lamplight casting a golden glow.
“Hi, baby,” Frankie said, settling into her pillows, voice like a melody Willa had been humming in her chest all night.
“Hey,” Willa said, voice rough with wine and longing.
Frankie’s smile widened. “Did I wake you?”
Willa shook her head. “No. I was hoping you’d call.”
“Yeah?” Frankie’s voice dipped, teasing. “Show was fucking great tonight.”
“I saw.” Willa stretched onto her side, the sweatshirt riding higher. “You played Stay Right Here.”
Frankie bit her lip. “I was thinking about you. About everything. I wanted to bring it back.”
Willa’s heart thudded. “I watched three videos of it already.”
“From your bed?”
Willa flipped the camera, panned down her legs just enough to show bare thigh, sweatshirt hem hitched high.
“Front row from right here.”
Frankie’s breath caught hard, like the air had been knocked out of her.
For a second she didn’t move, didn’t even blink—just stared, lips parted, chest rising fast. The hotel lamplight caught the edge of her curls as she dragged a hand over her face, groaning low into her palm.
When she looked back at the screen, her eyes were dark, hungry, undone.
“Jesus, Willa,” Frankie breathed, her voice breaking on the name.
“What?” Willa asked, her tone all false innocence, though the smirk tugging at her mouth gave her away.
“What are you wearing?” Frankie demanded, leaning closer to the screen, her eyes dark.
Willa smirked wider. “You know what I’m wearing.”
“Tell me anyway,” Frankie pressed, her voice low, wrecked.
“Your hoodie,” she said slowly, dragging a hand down the hem, “and a pair of underwear.”
Frankie groaned, dropping her head back against the pillows. “Goddamn. That’s so sexy. You have no idea.”
“I might have an idea,” Willa teased, biting her lip.
“Can I get you to take it off for me?” Frankie asked, her voice husky, half-plea, half-command.
Willa raised an eyebrow at the screen, playful. “You’re gonna have to talk sweeter than that, rockstar.”
Frankie grinned, her voice dropping into that husky rasp that always turned Willa molten. “Alright, baby. Let’s earn it then.”
Her gaze sharpened, hungry but reverent. “Lift the hoodie for me. Just a little. I wanna see that gorgeous stomach.”
Willa slid the hem up, exposing a strip of bare skin. Frankie’s breath caught audibly through the speaker.
“Jesus, Willa. You’re killing me. Now… slide your hand lower. Right there.”
Willa obeyed, the heat building low in her belly as Frankie’s voice wrapped around her like touch.
“You feel how soft you are? That’s mine. Spread your legs for me, baby. Pretend it’s me pushing your thighs open.”
Willa gasped softly, moving her hand, her pulse wild.
“That’s it,” Frankie whispered, leaning closer to the camera. “Touch yourself for me. Circle your clit—gentle at first. Like my tongue. Tell me what it feels like.”
“Good,” Willa breathed, her eyes fluttering. “So fucking good.”
“Fuck, that’s hot,” Frankie groaned. “Faster now. Don’t hold back. I wanna see you come apart for me.”
Willa bit her lip, her breath stuttering as she obeyed, her body shivering with every movement.
“Eyes on me,” Frankie said firmly. “Don’t look away. I want you looking right at me when you fall apart.”
“Mae…” Willa whimpered, the word spilling out like a prayer.
“That’s it, baby,” Frankie rasped, her eyes dark and glassy on the screen. “Say my name again while you come for me. I need to hear it.”
“Mae—” Willa cried out, her back arching, her body seizing as the orgasm tore through her. Her free hand clutched the sheets, her voice breaking apart into raw, desperate sounds.
Through the screen, Frankie groaned, her face twisting like she could feel it right there with her. “That’s it, baby. God, you’re so beautiful like this. I’ve got you.”
Willa trembled as the aftershocks pulsed through her, chest heaving, vision blurring.
When she could finally breathe again, she whispered, “I don’t want to sleep without you.”
Frankie’s face softened, her own breathing still uneven, her smile wrecked but tender. “Then don’t.”
“Just put me on your pillow,” Willa murmured, voice thick. “I’ll be right here.”
She tucked the phone beside her, Frankie’s flushed face glowing softly in the dark—messy bun, freckles, exhaustion, love.
“Night, baby,” Frankie whispered.
“Night. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
And they drifted off like that—miles apart, yet held together by the kind of love that made distance feel like closeness.
* * *