“No,” I shake my head. “It’s not though. None of this is. I?—”
Last night rises in my throat.
“Last night felt like?—”
“I told you,” she cuts in. “No need to talk about it. It was a mistake.”
I swallow. “I don’t think it was, though. At least… not to me.”
She stills and turns the Switch completely off. I press on before I lose the nerve.
“It might’ve been just a drunken night you can forget about. But it wasn’t like that for me.”
“Hm. I didn’t realize you were so emotional.”
“Tuh.” I huff. “I’m stuck-up, Francine. Not soulless. I take that stuff seriously.”
Her brows lift. “Oh my days. You’re not a virgin, are you?”
I drag a hand over my beard.
“No, I’m not a virgin. I just don’t fool around with everyone. I’m picky. I know looking at me probably gives off the vibe I’m drowning in it, but I’ve probably got… less than three bodies.”
She blinks.
“So… virgin-adjacent.”
I stare at her. “I don’t know why I try to be open with you.”
She laughs softly this time and rests her hand over mine.
“Look,” she says. “Last night was… good. Really good. But it can’t be a thing.”
“Why?”
“That’s a long list,” she says.
“Start somewhere.”
“First of all— Zaza. She would actually strangle me. Not metaphorically. ”
“That’s not a good enough reason,” I say.
“It is,” she corrects. “I like living.”
I shake my head. “Get to your second point.”
She narrows her eyes, annoyed I was telling her what to do.
“I don’t exactly enjoy the crowd that follows you.”
“And you think I do?” I scoff. “And what happened to ‘I’m good at sneaking around’? Come on, Francine . You can do better than that.”
“Fine,” she continues, lifting a finger, “You say things like ‘life sentence’ and ‘mine’. Proper intense.”
I snort. “You loved it last night.”
She shoots me a look. “Don’t.”
