Page 101 of Give Me What You Will

“Hey,” he said, guilt flooding him, realizing he should’ve waited to call. “Sorry, I can call tomorrow…”

“No,” Frankie sat up, reaching over to turn on his lamp. Light illuminated his face and bare chest. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he swallowed, unable to tear his gaze away from his body, his lips, his handsome familiar face. “You look good.”

Frankie smiled slowly. “You called me at one in the morning to tell me how good I look?”

“No—yes—fuck, I just missed you.”

Frankie rubbed a sleepy hand over his face, smiling boyishly. “Yeah, well, I missed you too, Superman.”

Superman.

His Superman.

“I got asked to be a best man at my friend's wedding,” Sam said in a rush of joy.

Frankie blinked, “Who?”

“John. I think I mentioned him.”

“That’s awesome, baby. LA wedding?”

Sam’s heart couldn’t take casual affection anymore. He was already overwhelmed with emotion, and to have Frankie here, talking to him like this…

Rubbing the spot above his heart, Sam nodded, “The engagement party is in a couple of months. I think the wedding is in the spring of next year.”

“You lookin’ for a date? Cause I’d love to see you in a tux.”

He swallowed, hands shaking. Frankie was talking about months—months of being together. It didn’t feel real. “You think you’ll still want me by next year?”

“Fuck yeah.”

He cleared his throat, fighting back the tears. “You should get some sleep. I’ll call tomorrow.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah.” He stared, a longing that he felt constantly with Frankie stirred in his gut. “I can’t wait to see you.”

“You better.”

They hung up and he fell back into bed, phone on his chest. Eventually, he fell asleep.

Chapter 18

Frankie heard a car pull up on his driveway, followed by the sound of a door opening and closing. He frowned, not expecting company on a Thursday afternoon. He angled his head from beneath the car and caught sight of familiar boots. His pulse leaped in response.

Kicking out his heels, he rolled out from beneath the car, his creeper wheels squeaking. He was instantly greeted by a slow smile and classic aviator sunglasses perched on a perfect fucking nose over the sexiest stubble-grazed dimpled chin.

“Busy?” Sam asked.

Not anymore.

He couldn’t help but lick his lips, staring up at his best friend. “Yeah, actually I was. Hopin’ to get her purrin’ by the end of the month.”

Sam eyed the dark-orange Chevy Chevelle with the black racing stripes down the middle. “I like this one.”

“Yeah?” This pleased him, considering this car was part of the plans he had set in motion the moment he left Sam’s house two weeks ago. “Been tinkering on her at another shop for a while. The owner is retiring and decided to sell her to me for a reasonable price, knowing I would take care of her.”