She hums, a soft, thoughtful sound that vibrates against my cheek.
“Mm.”
I lift my head, our faces close enough that I feel her breath against my mouth.
“You lonely, Francine?” I ask.
Her eyes flick away, then back. Vulnerability flashes across her features.
“…Maybe.”
I reach for her hand. She lets me take it.
“Then…involve me.”
Her chest rises in a slow inhale. “Involve you… how?”
I slide my thumb over her knuckles, drawing absently over her skin as purple lights wash across her cheekbones.
“In your life,” I say. “In your world.”
She lets out a soft laugh.
“I can see that slap did nothing to deter you.”
I lean in, close enough that her lips part just slightly as I push my growing hard on into her back.
“Does it feel like it?”
Her eyes drop to my mouth. Reflex. Want.
She drags them back up, steadying herself.
“Be careful what you’re asking me for, big man.”
I tighten my grip around her hand, tug her the last inch closer.
“I meant what I said, Frankie.”
She freezes.
Lips parting the slightest bit.
Eyes flicking up to mine like she’s trying to decide whether to take me seriously or pretend she didn’t hear it.
The music is loud, bass rolling under our feet, lights strobing across her face, but somehow everything slows down around us. Like her silence is its own gravity.
“Let me see you tomorrow.” I lean in, voice low and careful. “I swear?—”
But she doesn’t let me finish.
Frankie flattens a hand against my chest and pushes. It’s enough to pull her back from whatever edge she was drifting toward.
Because Za is weaving her way through the crowd, headed straight for us.
Frankie steps back quickly, smoothing her expression.
“CICI!” Za throws her arms around her. “They have‘No one mourns the wicked!’Should I sing?”
