Instead of fighting her on it, I shook my head, staring at her glowing green eyes, and asked “What do you want me to say, Frankie?”
“Whatever it is that’s making you act like you’re trying not to feel anything at all.” She demanded.
I let out a humorless laugh and shoved the gearshift into park. “Fine. I saw you and Eli. I watched him kiss you and say all the right shit and make you feel seen. Good for him.” I turned on the bench seat and faced her, putting my arm against the back of the seat, “And I’m trying to sit here and act like it doesn’t gut me.”
Her lips parted, “Travis,” her breath hitched.
“You don’t owe me anything,” I added quickly, tasting the bitterness of it. “He’s your type, right? Smooth, charming, outgoing. Everyone loves Eli.”
But even as I said the words, I knew there was more to it. I forced myself to trust my gut. And my gut told me that there was something in her eyes all those times she would look at me over the last few years. All those times her lips wouldn’t say all the things her mind wanted her to.
“Are you seriously jealous of your best friend right now?” she asked, stunned.
I scoffed, sitting back against the door. “Are you seriously trying to pretend that you aren’t torn between the two of us?”
That shut her up.
The words hung between us, thick and dangerous. Her chest heaved, and my blood roared as we stared through the darkness. Somehow, it felt like we were burning bridges we’d never be able to walk back over once the sun came up.
“I didn’t ask for any of this.” She whispered, “I’mnotasking for it. I don’t even want it.”
“Sure.” I scoffed, angry with myself for admitting that I was hung up over her and jealous of Eli, now that she was admitting my biggest fear. She didn’t want me.
“Why the hell are you making me feel like the villain for being caught in the middle?” She snapped, shoving me with her fist against my chest.
I didn’t rise to the bait though, because she was right. Frankie was stuck in the middle between two guys who wanted her. Yet she wanted only one back. That wasn’t her fault.
“You kissed him back.” I said quietly, more for myself than for her.
I’d been biting my tongue for years. Watching her. Wanting her. Yet I never stood a chance.
“Yeah,” She whispered, and her shoulders fell as I finally looked back at her, “But I haven’t stopped thinking about what it would feel like to kissyousince.”
My blood ran cold and heated to lava in the same second as her white teeth bit into her bottom lip.
Her face didn’t show anger or frustration, from my outburst or pitting her as the bad guy.
No, that would have been easy to deal with. That would have been familiar to me.
When I stared at her in the dark, silent cab of my truck, I saw something new on her face.
Need.
It wasn’t casual. It wasn’t flirtatious.
It was raw.
Honest.
Wrecked.
And suddenly, I didn’t think. I moved. Before I even knew it, I was out of the truck and around to her side, yanking the door open and catching her as she jumped out. Her breath puffed into the air in quick pants; her eyes were wide.
Then her hands were grabbing the front of my shirt, and mine were on her face, pulling her into me as I kissed her.
Fuck.
I was kissing Frankie Blake.
