Fuck I’m famous, how could I forget that?
“…Yeah.”
Bro actually clutches his chest.
“No way. Nah.Wallahi, no way. I watch Gombe highlights all the time, fam. Man said transfer and popped up in my postcode? Crazy. Crazy!”
I just lost a lot of respect for Francine’s character, not gonna lie.
Behind my hand, she groans. Loud.
And he hears it.
“Uh—was that… Frankie?” he asks, leaning sideways like he’s trying to peek past me.
I widen my stance, blocking the whole doorway, pinning her tighter against the wall with my arm.
“Nope!”
He squints. “You sure? I know her breathing, you know.”
Frankie tries to shout, but it comes out muffled and homicidal under my palm.
“Really now?” My blood’s boiling lowkey. like a proper simmer. “Where do you know her from?”
He rubs the back of his neck, suddenly shy. “We mess around a bit from time to time.”
I blink once.
Twice.
Mess around.
From time to time.
He shrugs like it’s nothing. “We kinda fell out when she made a group chat and sent me and a few other lads goodnight texts.”
For a solid second I forget to breathe.
He’s lying.
He better be lying.
Because my idea of who Frankie is can not take this new information.
Texting multiple guys at once?
And getting caught?
Who did she turn into while I was away?
I smile. A slow, sharp, wolfish thing.
“Hm,” I say, fist tightening on her mouth a bit. “Yeah. Sounds like her.”
Frankie kicks my shin.
I barely react. “Group chat though? And you were… one of the lads?”
