Page 143 of Made in Love and Blood

“And it’s not the most important part of this conversation,” he added.

Frankie started abusing her lip in that way he hated. She looked so good biting her lip when he fucked her against hotel sheets just before they packed their shit to leave on an afternoon flight into LaGuardia. Less so when it meant she was anxious and she had been trying not to pick at her nails.

“Quit it,” he said as he dug into the brown paper bag for the first thing he needed. Frankie stopped chewing on her lip as he pulled out a fresh pack of cigarettes and a new lighter. His other ones got crushed in the first hotel room, so he had gone without. “And now you look sad,” he told Frankie, shaking his head. “Stop that, too.”

“You think Carmine is going to tell my dad about the drugs?”

“Probably,” Nico returned, shrugging as he opened the pack.

Nico smirked around the cigarette he then quickly lit. Rolling down the window enough to let the smoke out, he straightened back into the driver’s seat. He inhaled a hard drag, and Frankie watched him from the other side of the car like she needed to mull over the next thing to come out of her mouth. He didn’t mind. Their conversations were always so much better when they took their time with it. The smoke burned in his lungs; gray tendrils pulled out of the crack in the window in waves as he waited her out.

“Tell me the deal behind Carmine,” she said.

He loved when she listened especially for the things he didn’t say.

“The first time I ever got stoned, I was eleven,” Nico informed.

Frankie’s eyes widened comically. “What?”

“No lie. And the first time I went to Neon, I was almost fourteen.”

“So, thirteen. At a rave.”

He rolled his eyes. “My friends were my brother’s friends until I got a couple years into high school. He’s got four years on me, Frankie, and most of his friends were older than him. Like Anthony. Think about it. I spent every summer in Chicago, and I only had to see my father on Sundays for church because he had lots to keep him entertained there.”

“So, when you say almost fourteen...”

“It doesn’t sound as bad, does it?”

“It’s still bad.”

Nico grumbled under his breath. “Then, it’s going to sound really fucked up when I tell you how I lost my virginity in a bathroom stall at my first rave, to a girl with body glitter all over herself, and I didn’t even learn her name.”

Frankie shot him a look to die for, and her cheeks pinked. “Oh, yeah?”

“And right after, my brother gave me a pill he said would keep me feeling like I was rolling on molly for days.”

She blinked. “Oh.”

“Just happened we were staying at Carmine’s little brother’s place, and Carmine came over that night to check on things. He knew we were out of control. I was sick as a fucking dog on that oxy and could barely keep my head up. Carmine took care of me, asshole that I was to him the whole time.”

“And he told your dad?”

“Because I mouthed off, repeatedly. Kinda like you did yesterday. I thought I ran the show because I wanted to do that shit, I said yes, and yet...”

“He was the only adult in the room,” she filled in.

Nico nodded. “That’s what he told me, right before we went to my dad.”

“What happened to your brother for giving you the oxy?”

“Nothing. I took it; I could’ve said no.”

“But—”

“I learned not to trust my brother with my drugs after that. I learned my lesson.”

“What about you? When your dad found out, I mean.”