Del Taco
It happens so quickly.
Grace returns to the beach house with a bag from Del Taco in hand, and as soon as the bag is placed on the table; Frankie's hands cup her face and she plants a sweet full and chaste kiss on Grace's lips.
Afterwards, Frankie dances around the table, happily taking bites of her food and talking to Grace about, some usual Frankie nonsense.
Grace isn't able to hear any of it.
She can't because, there is an earthquake erupting in her heart, and its at least a 6.9 mms, not to mention the hurricane in her stomach, a category three maybe even a four, so she can't even move from her spot, much less hear, Frankie's happy rant about Del Taco or whatever.
Her body is in a state of emergency, but thankfully not a medical one.
Frankie finally notices that Grace isn't moving and she flies around the table and innocently caresses Grace's shoulder, but it's the pin in the balloon that pops Grace's resolve.
Grace's knees buckle.
Frankie quickly supports her, with eyes full of care and Grace wants so badly to just run away, but the earthquake is rearranging and tearing her walls down, and the hurricane is rushing around, flushing all her bullshit away. She's completely bare of her defenses and standing in front of her, literally holding her up, is the reason for these storms.
No one has ever been able to do this to her before.
But if she's honest, the storms aren't new; they've been building since that night of peyote and muscle relaxers.
Frankie herself is a storm, but she's such a gentle one and it's almost like Grace has been eased into falling in love. That small kiss was a freight train and the light bulb that sprung on when the train hit, was harsh with it's truth.
Grace doesn't feel ready for this.
If she let herself slip happily along Frankie's little current, she knew she'd have time to leave or sabotage it, before she got to the point of no return. Too late now.
"Fuck" Grace says.
"What? Grace what happened?" She's too understanding. She's too sweet, she's too much. "Is it your back? I don't really want to be stuck on the floor all day again, the knee race was fun but the rash I got afterwards was a bitc-"
"Screw you Frankie!" Grace pushes her away and speed walks up to her room. She didn't mean to say it and it isn't at all what she feels, except maybe it is, she's not really sure.
Still for all those storms raging inside of her, Frankie is the one demolished.
Author's note: Last night I read lightning storm, and I swear I wrote this chapter before I read that fic, so my storm metaphor is a coincidence, and I want to be clear on that. I think perhaps Grace and her feelings for Frankie being equated with storms is something maybe we instinctively gravitate towards?