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“A little, true.”
“How about this? Will you go out with me, Frankie? Real dates. You and me. Let me buy you flowers and take you out to eat. Let me take you for rides on the bike as soon as that arm is healed. Come listen to me work on my music, work on it with me? You inspire me, Angel. Everything I’ve written in the last few weeks, it’s all been you.”
I swallowed around the lump in my throat. “We’re going to need rules.”
“Agreed.”
“And you guys don’t get to be the only ones who make them.”
“Totally down for that.”
“You owe me a night of dancing.”
“Agreed.”
“Karaoke.” That was a concession. I hated the karaoke, but he was so good at it.
“Name the time and the place, I’m there.”
“You’re easy.”
“For you?” Ian cocked his head. “Haven’t you figured it out yet, Angel? I’d do anything for you.”
Oh, I wanted to believe him so bad. I’d hated the distance between us. The gulf. Even holding on with my fingers and toes to our friendship, a piece of me had been missing.
“I—”
“Well, well, well,” a raspy voice gritted out, and ice slithered down my spine. Ian jerked up straight and glared.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
I turned, but Ian was already shoving me behind him.
Mitch stood there—a creepy Frankenstein—and he had a few friends with him.
“Believe it or not, Bubba…” Mitch gritted out. “We were looking for the pair of you. Trick or treat…”
I didn’t even get a chance to scream before something was yanked over my head.
* * *
