CHLOE
After Franco tookme to get a phone, we stopped by the fire station to talk to one of Vito’s buddies who has a business on the side setting up home security systems.
We explain the situation with the store, and the firefighter gives Franco a list of the items they’ll need—all of which Franco insists on purchasing himself.
The guy promises to stop by Latterature to install everything after I get wireless internet set up.
“You mind if we make another stop?” he asks. “I’d like to let my sister in on what happened at the café.”
I nod, and an immediate feeling of dread clenches my belly. It’s nearly dinnertime, and we’re headed right back to where everything happened last night.
I don’t know what my face looks like, but Franco reaches a hand across the seats and gives my hand a reassuring squeeze.
“You okay?” he asks. “I’ll be right there. It’s going to be fine.”
I look down at his fingers resting lightly on mine. “Yeah,” I say. “Of course. I…”
But then I remember. This is not what I want. This is not who I want to be. I’m not going to pretend or lie or make the best of it when what I really feel is scared shitless.
“No,” I correct myself. “I’m terrified, honestly. I know it may be childish, and I’ll get over it, you know? I will. I’ll get over it, through it. It’ll get better. But right now, just the thought of going back there makes me feel sick.”
He nods, and he laces his fingers through mine rather than pulling his hand away. “I get it,” he says. “And it’s okay. I don’t want to make it worse for you, but I really want to let my sister in on what’s going on. I probably should have called her already.”
I’m watching our hands and the easy way he holds mine, and I wonder how this is my life.
I’m sure Franco is justthat guy. He holds hands and flirts with and sleeps with women like it’s no big deal. To me, every time he touches me, my body snaps to attention and wants to decode every movement. Every intention. Is he holding my hand to be nice?
I get my answer when he releases my hand quickly and puts both of his hands on the steering wheel as he stares straight ahead.
Right.
He’s a good man.
A dutiful son and older brother.
I can be honest with myself about how the man makes me feel, while keeping myself grounded in reality.
This is…friendship, right?
And I need friends, especially here in Star Falls.
We park a few spots away from The Body Shop, and I feel Franco’s eyes on me as I stare at my store.
It looks harmless and dark. The handwritten piece of paper I put up inside the door still hangs right where I taped it before we left last night.
I sit motionless as Franco jumps out, comes around, and then opens the passenger door for me.
“Hey,” he says, meeting my eyes. “You good?”
I shrug, then nod, then shrug again. “I might need another hug,” I mumble, not intending for him to hear.
But he must because he grins, and the sight takes my breath away. His blue eyes flash, and I’m a little embarrassed that he heard me, but hell, this is me trying to be honest. Not hiding.
When we get inside, I’m surprised by the place. I’ve only been inside one tattoo shop, which is why I’ve never actually gotten one.
Instead of dingy walls, The Body Shop is decorated in a soothing, cool palette of minimalist, almost midcentury style.
A large gray couch is in the waiting area, covered with pretty pillows that look comfortable and classy. I examine the space in awe, and although I should not be surprised, I am.
