Page 39 of Made in Love and Blood

Frankie’s expression threw venom at him as she pulled the headphones off and dipped inside the Supra. Two seconds later, the music changed to blasting through the car’s speakers before cutting off altogether.

“It looks unreal washed up,” he said of the car.

His comment softened Frankie enough to earn him a smile when she popped back out of the vehicle. Sans the headphones.

“Those were cute,” he said. “Where’d they go?”

Her grin widened. “You don’t even let someone think to speak, do you?”

Nico shrugged. “Sometimes. That song sounded way better coming out of the car, though.”

“You’re right, but Daddy still has headaches in the mornings.”

“Is he good right now? I’m supposed to—”

“Oh, he’s been up since five. The routine hasn’t changed; it’s just the bonus. You know?”

Fuck.

“Yeah, I get it.” Nico noted the soccer ball thirty feet away and the huge mess of cleaning products scattered about her Supra. “Don’t you have a big game tomorrow?”

“One of three finals,” she replied, suddenly far more interested in picking up the discarded bunches of paper towel.

“You nervous?”

“Practically dying. But hey, the accident got me out of two weeks of school and practice, like that was going to help with the games.”

Nico didn’t even try to hide his smile. “You’ve already got the grades to graduate, don’t you?”

“I opted for the last six months to keep playing soccer,” she told him. “Crazy, huh?”

“No. Just fucking say you love it, I mean, come on. Do you want me to tell you how I know you’re going to win?”

She froze mid-grab for an empty spray bottle. Her gaze slammed into his at the same time. “You can’t know—”

“What, you think your dad paid for it?”

Frankie laughed. “That was mean.”

He could see how, but no. “Nah, it’s bullshit. You’re going to win because you’re unquestionably the star. You rarely try for a shot you don’t make into the net, and your follow through is like ninety-six percent a shot. I did the numbers while you practiced and scrimmaged, and I watched.”

“Seriously?”

“What? I needed something to also do. I have ADHD.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh, okay. But seriously, you just do numbers like that in your head?”

Nico couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s impressive to you?”

“I need paper, and sometimes calculators. Numbers are hard...er.”

“You’re derailing this conversation entirely.” Nico gestured at her dismissively as he stepped off the bike. It became his leaning post as he said, “This is about why you’re going to win, not me. You’re the star.”

“You said,” she deadpanned.

“Mmhmm, nice attitude. No, on the team, I mean. You’re the star. All the coach cares about is winning the trophy that’ll sit at your school for another year. And my guess is, it’s sat there every year you’ve been on the team. This is his last year with you. That’s why the girls who give you shit physically on the field always end up getting extra laps or he rages at them for ten minutes.”

Frankie’s arms folded across her chest, her almond-shaped, soft pink manicure tapping a beat to her arm. “Keep going.”