So instead:
“Forget it.”
Zaza presses her lips together. “Guys, come on. Can’t you lot try to get along for one day?”
“Depends,” I say. “Can Francine keep her hands to herself?”
Frankie exhales through her nose. “I already apologized. Stop whining.”
“Please,” I mutter. “That apology is faker and sorrier than sister Janet’s?—”
“Hey guys!” a scrawny waiter interrupts my rebuttal. “Have any idea what you wanna order?”
“We just need a few more minutes please sorry” Za replies. I could tell she was mortified by our behaviour.
“No worries. Take all the time you need, beautiful.” He winks before walking off.
“Ouuu,” Frankie coos whilst watching him leave. “I think he fancies you, Za.”
Zaza flicks her eyes toward the guy and wrinkles her nose instantly.
“Ew. His trousers are below his pants. Massive ick.”
I cock a brow. “What?”
Za scrunches up her face. “It gave me the ick.”
“What’s an ick?” I ask, genuinely confused.
“You don’t know what an ick is?”
“No.”
“An ick is when someone does or says something that turns you off. Like instantly.”
I scoff. “Yeah. Me and that word have never been in the same conversation.”
Frankie rolls her eyes so hard I feel the breeze from it.
I know I said I was done but I couldn’t help myself.
I turn to her. “What about you, Francine? What gives you an ick?”
She stares me down, chin up. “You really wanna know?”
“I asked, innit?”
She sets her menu down delicately, crosses one leg over the other, and looks me dead in my soul.
“Well. I’ve got a lot. First being muscles.”
She deliberately trails her gaze down my arms.
Yeah right.
I don’t remember these muscles being a problem when I was pinning her down.
“Big egos with bigger mouths.”
