“Do you love me, Frankie?”
She freezes.
“I don’t know.”
“You’re lying.”
Her brow furrows. “Excuse me?”
“I can feel your heart running,” I say quietly. “You’re practically vibrating.”
She presses her palm flat to my chest like she can feel mine too.
“I don’t know,” she repeats, but this time her voice cracks. “I feel a lot of things about you. It ain’t always nice. Some days I can’t stand you. Some days I think you’re arrogant and irritating and you push too much.”
I nod slowly.Fairs.
“But some days,” she continues, swallowing hard, “most days… I don’t know how I breathe without you. It’s crazy.”
Her eyes search mine.
“Fuck,” she breathes. “I’m in love with you, ain’t I?”
A grin pulls at my mouth before I can stop it.
“Yup. Madly.”
She squeezes her eyes shut. “Bloodclaat.”
I laugh softly. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, babe. Everyone loves me.”
She smacks my chest. “Oh shut it. You in love with me too?”
I don’t hesitate.
“Francine. I fell in love with that girl I met in primary school and I’ve been chasing her since.”
That knocks the sarcasm clean out of her.
She just stares at me. There’s history in her eyes. From the soccer pitch to soap powder to training days and closet kisses. From us fucking to fighting. All of it.
“We should tell Za,” she says finally.
I study her face carefully.
“You ready for that?”
“She needs to know.”
It’s not defiance this time. It’s resolve.
“Okay—”about fucking time—“If that’s what you want.”
The room goes quiet again.
Great. Now I can’t sleep. My heart is doing too much. My brain is wide awake with what I wanted to say. So I just ask for it.
“Frankie?”
