“Hey,” I said softly, reaching out my hand to brush her chin, but I retracted it once I thought better of it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by that.”
She looked broken, and I fucking hated that.
“I don’t have any hobbies, okay? It’s pathetic and I know it. Ever since I got laid off, I’ve come to realize that my career was my only personality trait. I have nothing else.”
“That isn’t true.” It couldn’t be. I’d only known her since she’d been careerless, and everything about her captivated me.
“It is though. I have no outside interests. I’m not good at anything else—you’ve seen me bartending. And now snowboarding. That job was all I had,” she insisted, absentmindedly twisting her hair.
Her distant expression made me want to pull her into a hug. Physical touch had always come easily to me, but with Frankie, it was different. Every brush of her skin against mine sent me straight back to our kiss that first night I arrived. Did she even think about it?
“Well, that’s not you anymore. Use this time to get to know yourself. Try something new. I told you I’d help. Just because this didn’t go to plan, doesn’t mean I’m giving up on you.”
Her lips twitched into a faint smile. “You still want to hang out with me after today?” she asked.
“I promise I’ll pick a safer activity.” I put a hand over my chest.
She studied me for a moment. I couldn’t deny that her gaze on me felt good. It was no secret that I liked attention, but her attention was quickly becoming my favorite.
“What’s in this for you, Oliver?”
“What do you mean? Spending time with you. Do I need an ulterior motive?”
“You must have better things to do.” Her voice was soft. She did that a lot—hovered between her feisty side and a quieter, more vulnerable version of herself.
“I don’t,” I said.
She considered this. “How long are you even in town for?” she asked.
I shrugged. “Dunno. Lessons only go for the rest of the season and that’s over in a few weeks.”
“And then…”
“And then…your guess is as good as mine.”
She scoffed. “How can you live like that? Floating through life without a plan?”
“How can you live a life that’s so rigidly structured you forgot how to have fun?”
She winced, and I regretted my words. But she was trying to burrow into something. Something deeper than the surface, and my entire nature repelled that.
“Sorry,” I muttered.
“It’s okay. You’re not wrong. But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong either. You have to have a plan, Oliver. Goals. Things that motivate you.”
It felt pointless to argue with her, but I didn’t agree. My aimlessness had gotten me this far in life, and I saw no reason to change.
“Tell you what.” Frankie snapped her fingers—the ones attached to her so-called injured wrist. My suspicion that she was faking it heightened even more, but I suppressed my smirk. “I’ll let you continue to drag me on whatever activities you deem fun, if you let me help you come up with some goals and figure out what’s next.”
I folded my arms across my chest. “I don’t know…”
“Oh, come on.” She held her hands together and blinked up at me, the same move I’d already used on her. The fact that she actually looked excited about this struck a chord with me. “Please.” She blinked again, her lips forming a pout. It took everything in me not to grab the back of her neck and haul her mouth onto mine.
“Fine,” I relented. Not because I wanted Frankie to help me with some stupid two-year plan or whatever the hell it was she had in mind. But because it felt like she needed this. Needed to offer me something that she felt she was good at.
“Yay!” she clapped excitedly, and I arched an eyebrow.
“Careful. Your wrist.”
