Frankie sighs, almost tired. “Just… let her go.”
And off she goes, spinning, skipping. Just living her best life.
And then silence.
Well. Not actual silence. The music is loud. People shout. Glass knocks glass.
But between us?
Quiet.
We sit opposite each other, shadows flickering over both our faces, pretending to be fascinated by anything but each other.
I tap my thumb against my knee.
Say something.Anything.
Nothing comes out.
Instead, the thoughts I don’t want creep in about last night.
About her skin, her laugh, the way she held onto me, and right now she won’t even look at me.
I swallow.
She shifts.
Crosses one leg.
Tucks a loc behind her ear.
Awkward.
Whatever we’re pretending isn’t happening…still is.
She pulls out her Switch for her purse then, thumbs moving fast, eyes glued to the screen like I’m not even here.
Fine.
I’ll try to make conversation anyway.
I gesture lightly toward the dance floor, toward Zaza spinning around like she owns the place.
“Is she… okay like this?”
Frankie doesn’t look up. “As long as they don’t play Wicked, she’ll be fine.”
I nod, though the knot in my chest tightens.
This is too awkward. Maybe I should just go.
“I really am sorry I slapped you.”
I look at her. She’s still staring at the game, but her voice is softer.
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “Well… I’m sorry for what I said.”
She shrugs. “It’s calm.”
