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“Julian, it’s not that simple, okay? You don’t know my parents, my family. If…” She shakes her head and trails off. The computer and the phone are both ringing now, and her eyes dart from one to the other.
I just ate her out like a Las Vegas buffet and she doesn’t even have the decency to give me two minutes of her time before rushing to answer a goddamn happy birthday call from her parents? The rejection, the utter disregard for me, burrow beneath my skin, hitting all the soft parts of my soul I normally keep well-protected. She doesn’t even acknowledge me, just whirls away to pick up the coffee mugs on the floor.
“Gee, thanks.”
She looks over her shoulder from the sink. “Julian—”
Between the beeping, her phone buzzing, the running water, and my pounding heart, I can’t hear myself think. “You know what?” I snag my shirt off the floor and pull it on, not caring that it’s inside out. “Happy birthday, Frankie. I hope the day is everything you wanted.”
Fourteen
Frankie
What the hell just happened?
My front door clicking shut snaps me out of my panic. I finish rinsing out the mugs and shut the water off. A second ago I was having the best orgasm of my entire life—truth be told, the only man-made orgasm of my entire life—thinking to myself I finally understood what all the fuss was about. Next thing I know, my parents are calling, and I’m panicking to get clothes on in case my computer decides to answer the call without me. And now Julian is mad at me?
This is what I get for being selfish, I guess. Serves me right. I run my hands under the faucet and splash my face, not that it’s going to hide the warmth I can still feel on my cheeks or the sting of my skin from Julian’s beard, then run my fingers through my hair and grab my chair to sit down at my computer.
Fuck. I’m never going to sit in this chair again without thinking about the way Julian’s tongue tasted every sensitive square inch of my skin. Closing my eyes, I let myself remember how good he felt, before shaking it off and clicking accept on the screen.
“Happy birthday!” Their chorus is broken up, each of my family’s voices taking over the sound for a second. They sing, the Brady Bunch squares on my screen lighting up in turn. It’s awful and tone-deaf, and normally I would love them for it, but right now I’m so confused over what just happened with Julian that I can’t appreciate it the way I usually do.
“—to you! Oh my goodness!” My mom’s exclamation sounds over everyone else’s singing.
A hand clamps down on my shoulder, and I jump out of my skin with a yell. “Sorry, folks, didn’t mean to startle you.” Julian’s words carry over the silence as my parents and siblings stare open-mouthed at the hulk behind me. “I just came in to grab my phone.”
Four separate private messages pop up in the chat window.
Colin: Who is that handsome hunk of man?
Sheila: Please tell me you hit that.
Grady: Who the fuck is that, Frankie?
Bianca: Holy crap, that man is fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine!
I’m sure the buzzing of my phone from somewhere near my bed is similar text messages from Eleanor and Megan.
“Hello, young man.” My dad is the first to speak. “I’m Reverend Joe, Francesca’s father.” Dad sticks his hand out as if they can shake through the monitor, but Mom smacks his arm down.
“Oh, honey, don’t be silly. He looks very, uh, nice.” She gives Dad a look over the edge of her glasses and smacks a giggling Megan before continuing. “Hi, sweetie, I’m Patricia, but you can call me Patty. These are Francesca’s younger sisters, Megan and Eleanor. Francesca, where are your manners? Introduce the young man.”
“That’s okay, I was just leaving. Nice to meet you.” Julian squeezes my shoulder before crossing the room to pick up his phone up off the floor where he was sitting moments ago. The spot where he made me feel powerful, helpless, and explosive all at once. “Frankie, make sure you lock the door after I leave.”
And then he’s gone. There isn’t a peep from my computer as I hop up to go flip the deadbolt on my front door. Eventually, Colin breaks the silence.
“So…happy birthday to Frankie?”
My hands twitch with the need to chuck a pillow at his smug smile.
Sheila coughs before she speaks. “So who was that?”
Bianca, Grady, and Mom echo her question. Dad is too busy looking concerned to ask, and Eleanor and Megan are busy whispering to each other on the other end of their couch.
With a sigh and a wish for more of the coffee I’d made earlier, I desperately try to figure out what’s safe to share with them. “Julian is a friend. From work. He’s a work friend.”
Shit. That did not come out as planned. Now it sounds like I’m hiding something. I am. But now they know.
