I woke to the sound of Franklin's heart beating steadily beneath my ear. A shaft of blinding light pierced the window, shining over his dormant face. He looked so peaceful while sleeping, unguarded and unperturbed by the world around him. Hopefully he was having a good dream.
I yawned, rubbing my eyes. I was still wearing the black lace gown Franklin and I choose for my hot date tomorrow. I must've nodded off while I was trying on clothes, and by some strange turn of events, Franklin's hard chest ended up replacing my pillow. Not that I was complaining…
Snuggling closer to my best friend, my gaze drifted over the digital clock face on the nightstand. 9:30 A.M. Holy crap! I'm late for class!
I launched up and grabbed my phone. It was dead, no wonder the freaking alarm didn't go off. "Franklin!" I squealed, darting into my walk-in closet for a change of clothes. "Wake up! I'm late for class!"
He woke with a groan. "Late? Shit, how late?"
"Forty-five minutes late. My phone's dead, I haven't had any coffee. I need coffee. I can't live like this—ugh!" On my way out of the closet, I slid on a pile of shoes and tumbled to the floor like a clumsy idiot.
Franklin helped me up by the arm. "You okay?"
"No, I'm not 'okay'," I yanked at my hair in a fit of frustration. "My professor is super anal about lateness, Frank."
He offered me his hand and I lunged for it. And of course, he didn't flinch as I clenched down on his broad palm the hardest I could like a stress ball. Franklin knew me so well. One look and he could see the worry and anxiety building up inside me, threatening to burst. And he was selfless enough to let me use him as an outlet.
"Go shower and get dressed," he said. "I'll handle the coffee, a'ight?"
"Okay. Thanks." I hugged him before leaving for the bathroom.
I took a quick shower, plaited my hair in two braids, threw on a gray sweater and comfy black leggings, and I was all ready to go. Making it to class seemed like a possibility until I reached my car. My heart thundered in my chest as I yanked at the door repeatedly. It wouldn't fucking budge and my keys weren't in my purse. Shit. I must've left them in my room!
With a heavy sigh, I made a beeline for the house, rushing up the short porch steps. Breezing through the front door in a hurry, I bumped into Franklin, spilling the hot coffee he prepared for me all over his shirt.
He jerked back, wincing from the burn.
"Oh—oh my God!" I shoved a shaky hand into my purse for napkins and wiped at his drenched attire. "I'm so, so sorry! Are you okay?"
He clenched his jaw tight and turned for the kitchen. I followed him, grabbing a roll of paper towels from the rack and dabbing at his damp chest. He washed his arms and hands in the sink.
"I'm sorry," I apologized profusely. Franklin was always good to me, and I felt like absolute crap for hurting him. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry—"
"Ay, stop apologizing." His arm circled my waist, pulling me into a comforting side hug. "I'm good. It was an accident, shit happens."
I examined him for any visible burns. His skin was flushed but he seemed to be fine otherwise. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"Positive."
Relieved that he was unscathed, I pulled away, my shoulders drooped. "How late am I now?"
He glanced at his phone and winced. "An hour."
"Well, there's no way I'm walking into class an hour late so…" I took his hand. "Screw school. Wanna go hang out instead?"
"Fo' sho'. I'm always down to chill." He smiled. "I'ma need to make a stop at the crib for a change of clothes first though. C'mon, I'll drive."
The amazing view from the grand terrace of Franklin's home always took my breath away. It was like looking down at the world, I could see the entire city from here. The mountains. The wildlife. The cityscape was a jumble of shapes, lights glittering everywhere like stars falling onto the earth. Vehicles sped along the chaotic lines of streets coughing up smog, and dots of small people moved in masses—all the madness of the metropolis intertwined together in a teeming mess of opportunity. For such a crazy place, Los Santos sure was beautiful.
I reached for my phone to take a picture and kicked myself for forgetting to charge it. "Frank!" I called out, leaving the balcony and heading into the living room. "I need a charger!" I admired some of the abstract art adorning the walls as I searched the house from top to bottom for my best friend.
He wasn't upstairs so there was only one place left to look. I knocked on his bedroom door. "Bestie, are you in there?" There was silence. I turned the knob and let myself in.
And there he was, shirtless, the sunlight streaming through the vast windowpanes illuminated his rippling abdomen and powerful chest. His deep brown skin glowed beautifully beneath the sun's rays like diamonds. His biceps were huge, bulging in perfect portion to his weight and height. I stumbled, breathless. My gaze drifted to the dark trail of hair that began just below his navel, past that sexy V-line of a pelvis, into his pants…
Holy effing crap, he's hot.
He stirred at the sight of me, the slight ripple of muscle warning of his enormous strength. I was practically salivating, head over heels in a trance. I could look at him all day, all night long…
"Trace?" Seemingly amused, an inviting smile quirked his full, sensual lips.
Hit with all that sweltering sexuality and charming magnetism so abruptly—it was too much! Pressing a palm to my hammering heart, I fled into the hall, forcing the erotic image of him to the back of my mind. He was my best friend. I shouldn't be fantasizing about running my fingers through his thick hair, or kissing that perfect mouth, or sliding my hands all over his muscled body…
Whew, it was hot in here. I grabbed a cold drink of water from the fridge to cool myself down. I looked at my flushed face in the mirror and cringed. He had an effect on me like no other man I've ever met.
Not even Chad Dillington could compare, the cute guy I've spent hours and hours prepping to go on a date with.
Franklin found me in the kitchen, his stride graceful and strong as always. His designer V-neck shirt hugged his muscles so nicely, I wanted to undress him with my teeth.
He handed me a phone charger. "You were looking for this, right?"
"Y-yeah," I stammered, surprised by his casualness. He didn't seem unnerved in the slightest by my invasion of privacy a moment ago. "I'm sorry about bursting into your room earlier. I um, I-I didn't know where you were and—"
"It's all good. I know you missed me, girl." He pinched my cheek playfully. "A couple minutes apart was just too much for you, huh?"
"You wish." Giggling, I slapped his hand. "I didn't miss you, loser. My phone's dead, I needed a charger. That's all."
"Yeah?" He smirked. "You're blushing by the way, Trace."
My brows shot up. Oh no. I pivoted, my back facing him as I plugged my phone into the wall. Quickly, I changed the subject. "Wanna come with me to the spa? We can both use some TLC, don't you think?"
"The spa?" He sagged onto the couch and turned on the TV. "How 'bout I drop you off there and pick you up when you done?"
"Nooo, let's get a facial together!" I flopped beside him. "Pleeeeease?"
"What? Don't you got class?"
"I'm taking the day off. C'mon, let's pamper ourselves! We deserve it!"
He sighed. "You finna nag me until I say yes, ain't you?"
"Maybe? We can get massages too. It'll be good for your back and your neck…" I rubbed at his shoulder blades. "See? Doesn't that feel good?"
"Mhm." Franklin tipped his head back and closed his eyes, relaxing into my palms. "Hey, get right here too." He pointed at his collarbone.
Hesitantly, I caressed the strong tendons in his neck. The corded muscles loosened beneath my fingers. I touched him as if he were breakable, my stomach churned with worry I might apply too much pressure and cause him discomfort. My hand skimmed over his Adam's apple and he shivered, swallowing deep, the fine hairs on his neck lifting in response to the sensation.
It was a deeply intimate moment, our connection startingly intense. His hand clasped my wrist and slid upward along my arm in a firmly possessive glide. Awareness of him tingled across my skin. He radiated a magnetism that left me restless. Trembling.
Franklin was such a guarded man. He kept others at a distance. Were his intimate smiles and gentle touch truly reserved just for me? If so, what made me so freakin' lucky?
"Enjoying yourself?" I tickled his earlobe with a flick of my finger.
"This is nice," he smiled. "What's the point of spending bread on a massage if you can do it for me? For free?"
"I'm not a licensed professional, that's the difference." I stood up. "Now get off your lazy butt and let's go treat ourselves."
"A'ight, fuck it. You win. I'll go with you, but I ain't getting no facial. Just the massage."
"Even a tough, manly man like you needs to take care of his skin." I took his hand and pulled him up. "You're getting a facial, Frank. It's nonnegotiable. Not that you need one because your complexion is like, flawless, but it's all about the experience. Let's get you a manicure too."
"Manicure? You think I need one?" He glanced at his nails. "They ain't that bad, right?"
I scrutinized his blunt fingers. "They're nice, but they could always be better. You'll thank me later, c'mon."
After many luxurious hours of being pampered at the spa, Franklin took me home and lounged on my bed while I deep conditioned my hair. The masquerade ball was tomorrow, and I had to look my absolute best.
My stomach hardened whenever I thought about seeing Chad again. Most girls would jump at the opportunity to go on a date with the richest, most attractive boy in their university, but for some reason, I felt…dread. Not excitement. No enthusiasm. And I couldn't put my finger on why exactly…
With my wet hair wrapped in a towel, I paced the room in my pink polka dot pajamas. I must be going crazy. Chad effing Dillington was a big deal. The most important boy on campus. Wealthy. Super smart. Charismatic. One of the top ten quarterbacks in the entire country. He would make my parents proud. Mom and Dad would love him. Everyone loved Chad Dillington. If I stick this out and follow the plan, I'll learn to love him too. Hopefully.
That's what I kept telling myself. But there was a band around my ribs, pulling tighter and tighter. Squeezing the breath from my lungs. It left me winded. Panting. Pacing wasn't helping. The breathing exercises Doctor Friedlander taught me weren't working. I chewed at my fingernails to distract me from the ache. What am I going to do? Maybe I shouldn't go. Maybe—
"You good?" Franklin asked.
I froze. He's been staring at me as I paced the room like a nutjob, and I didn't even notice until now. "I-I think I'm coming down with something," I said.
He beckoned me over. "C'mere." I complied, crawling on the bed beside him. He raised his palm to my forehead. "You don't have a fever." His eyes dropped to my hands. "Oh shit, what'd you do?"
I glanced down, my eyes widening at the sight of blood flowing from my freshly manicured nails. Oh, no!
A taste of bile rose in my throat. How could I do this myself? I just got my nails done and now they were ruined. "O-oh my God, oh my God!" My insides felt like jelly, big knots forming in my stomach. The room was spinning like crazy. A sharp throbbing pierced my head. I curled up in a ball, hugging my knees to my chest in a desperate attempt to keep myself from falling apart.
I was faintly aware of Franklin moving. Suddenly, I was lifted into the cradle of his arms. He whisked me to the bathroom and propped me on the edge of the sink, my trembling body anchored against his.
He turned the warm water on and let it run over my blood-caked fingernails. "Tell me what's wrong," he pressed, his lips at my ear. "Let me in, girl. Talk to me."
"Everything hurts," I muttered breathlessly. "My stomach, m-my head…I-I feel faint."
Franklin opened the mirror cabinet and passed me my pills. He left and returned a second later with bottled water. Eagerly, I took the medication Doctor Friedlander prescribed me for my panic attacks and then I lunged for Franklin, my legs hooked around his waist, I clung to him like he was my lifeline. Because he literally was. Without him keeping me afloat, I'd sink…
He switched out the damp towel on my head for a dry one. "You finna do fine tomorrow," he reassured, his thumbs worked my temples in gentle circles, loosening the tension in my head. "You got this. It's just a date. Repeat after me—it's just a date."
His soothing touch calming my nerves, my breathing began to steady. "It's just a date," I repeated.
"It won't make or break me. I'm strong. Beautiful. The baddest bitch in Los Santos, and fuck everybody who says otherwise. Any dude would be lucky to have me, including Chad motherfucking Dillington."
I recited his confident words aloud with a chuckle. The positive affirmations were a good distraction from my negative thoughts. Maybe if I repeated them enough, I could learn to believe it.
Sighing deeply, my gaze drifted to the mirror's reflection of my flushed face, red and overcome with volatile emotion. Next to Franklin's breathtaking beauty, his features calm and composed, we looked all wrong for each other. Polar opposites. Somehow, despite our glaring differences, we had a connection. Like two sides of the same soul. My other half.
I've never felt so close to another person before. He was resilient, grounded, reliable, and I was undoubtedly attracted to the aura of stability he radiated. The scary part was, I didn't know if he felt the same for me. Most of the time, I felt like a burden to him.
"Franklin?"
He took a comb and ran it down my wet strands, untangling my hair. "Yeah?"
"Do you think…" I hesitated, my voice barely a whisper. "Do you think you'll ever get tired of me?"
He grew still, his amber eyes sought and found mine. My heart turned over in response. Heat stealing into my face, I looked away. I craved his intimacy but was a nervous wreck whenever I was lucky enough to receive it. He was far too handsome of a man and the golden radiance of his gaze caused me to swoon if I stared into them long enough.
Franklin cupped the side of my face in his hand. I nuzzled my cheek into his palm, cherishing the warmth. "I'm worried 'bout you, Trace," he said. "I thought we had a handle on your panic attacks. You ain't had none in a long time, for months, and now, it's like a daily thing. And it's getting worse, girl. I don't know if I can help you. Maybe we should tell yo' parents."
"No, they'll overreact," I sighed. "I don't want them freaking out over me, Dad especially. He always does something dramatic to try and fix it, and it only makes things worse."
"What you wanna do then? How can we make you better?"
"You make me better. Now stop being a worrywart." I chastised him with a tap of my finger on his broad nose. "This is totally off-topic, but I've been thinking—"
He interrupted, "Thinking ain't really your strong suit, Tracey."
I smacked his shoulder. "Stop it. I'm trying to talk to you about something. It's important."
"Uh-huh." Smirking, Franklin picked me up and moved us back to my room. He set me down on the bed and sagged into the fuzzy chair across from me. With a yawn, he tilted his head back and rested his eyes. "A'ight, I'm listening. What's so important?"
"I have a question, and I'll only ask if you promise to answer honestly."
"And if I don't?"
"Then I won't ask."
He gave a resigned shrug.
"Really?" I crossed my arms over my chest. "You don't care? The curiosity isn't killing you?"
"Nah. Not really."
"Dick." I threw a tube of lipstick at him.
He caught it. "If you got somethin' to say to me, girl, just say it. No point holding back now, unless you're scared?"
"I'm not scared of anything."
"Oh, yeah?" Leaning toward me with his hands folded politely in his lap, he offered me his full attention. "Then what you waitin' for?"
"Fine. Here goes." I took a deep breath before hitting him with the touchy question, "Why do you keep to yourself?"
His gaze narrowed.
I went on, "You're like, hot, almost as hot as I am—"
"I'm glad you like what you see." A ghost of a smile touched his full lips and made him insanely more gorgeous. God…
"But you're not dating anyone," I forced myself to continue. "You rarely use social media. You barely have any friends other than me, my fossil of a father, and Uncle T. Jimmy too, I guess. So, what's your deal? Why are you such a loner?"
Brows furrowed, he leaned back into his seat, his stare burned through me. "Shit, is that what you think of me? That I'm a loner?"
I shifted restlessly beneath his searing gaze, my fingers twisting in my lap. "Am I w-wrong?"
Smile fading, Franklin's eyes averted to the floor, his crossed arms betrayed an inherent unease. He seemed to be brooding, silent, his expression grim. Biting my lip, I tapped my feet against the floor, thinking of the right thing to say. I didn't mean to upset him…
"I'm sorry," I blurted. "Forget I said anything. We don't have to talk about it—"
"You ain't wrong." He spoke with a quiet intensity. Our eyes locked. "The less cats I have to deal with, the less problems I have. Learned that when I was a kid, not long after I lost my moms. I had to raise myself, and that shit ain't easy in the hood, you feel me? But what don't kill you makes you stronger. I'm content with being alone, it's been that way most of my life."
I swallowed past the lump in my throat. "Do you miss her? Your mother?"
"Everyday." A muscle quivered in his jaw. "I mean, she overdosed when I was real young, but I wish she could've stuck around a lil' longer, until I was old enough to remember her, you know?"
Oh, Franklin. My heart broke for him. I tried to imagine him as the young, adorable dark-haired boy he was all those years ago, his golden-brown eyes filled with terrible confusion and sorrow at the news of his mother's untimely death. It must have been devastating to have no father present to care for him either. The loneliness must have gnawed at him on the daily.
Franklin had a difficult childhood, that much was obvious. How did he carry the burden of such tremendous loss on his shoulders? How deep did he bury the trauma inside so that no one would see it? Underneath that rough, hard as dried beef exterior, he was hurting. He was a powerful man, mentally and emotionally, but no human was made of stone.
Mulling over his troubled past, my lips trembled, and I found myself sniffing into my sleeves. "Trace?" He crossed the room in one stride. Hovering over me, he fingered a loose tendril of my hair. "You don't get to cry for me. I hate that shit. It makes me feel…" His voice trailed off.
I gazed at him. "It makes you feel like what, Frank?"
"It…it hurts." His chest lifted and fell on a deep exhale. "Let's not dwell on the past, a'ight? It's like reopening old wounds. Neither of us are drunk or faded enough for that shit right now."
"You're not alone." I stroked his tense forearm. "You have me. And you couldn't get rid of me even if you tried."
"Uh-huh." There was a twinge of cynicism in his tone. "I bet."
"I'm serious." I hugged his waist, my cheek nuzzled against his hard stomach. "Why can't you lean on me the same way I lean on you? Codependency? You carry my baggage, I carry yours. I wanna be a better friend to you. Not just a burden."
His gaze softened. "You are good to me, girl. In your own way. You've been going through a lot lately and...I dunno." He paused, his gaze distant. "I feel like I'm in the right place. Here with you. For now."
My heart stuttered. "Just for now?"
"For as long as you need me." Franklin cupped the back of my head in his hand, wiping away the tears brimming on my eyelashes with a gentle sweep of his thumb. "I've done a lot of bad shit in my life. With you, I'm better. The world don't seem like such a fucked up place."
"Don't ever leave, Frank. Okay?"
"Don't let me go."
My grasp on him tightened. I had no intention of ever letting go.
We held each other; my face still snuggled against the warmth of his stomach. He stood before me, unmoving, and didn't utter a word for a long while. Just gave me the comfort of having him close. Or maybe he was taking comfort in me.
There was a knock at the door. "F-Dog?" Jimmy's annoying voice slipped through the doorframe. "You in there, home slice? I'm hungry, can you buy me some pizza? Please? And can we smoke some fools on Righteous Slaughter after?"
Franklin glanced at the door, then back at me. With one brow quirked, he silently awaited my consent.
As much as I wanted my best friend all to myself, I decided to share. Just this once. "You should spend some time with Jimmy," I said.
He tilted my chin up to look into my eyes. "You sure?"
"Yep. My brother is an idiot but he's right. I've been smothering you."
"I like being smothered by you. It ain't so bad." He sank to my level and embraced me. "I'ma dip after I'm done chilling with Jimmy. I'm tired, and you got a big day ahead of you, girl. I'll see you tomorrow after class, a'ight? Before your date?"
Crap. Did he have to remind me of the date? "Okay. Promise me you'll say goodbye before you leave tonight?"
"No doubt. And I'll text you when I get back to the crib." He rose and backed away, holding my hand until the distance pulled our fingers apart. I immediately missed his warmth.
"Can you save me a slice of pizza too?" I asked.
He stopped at the door. "Cheese or pepperoni?"
"Surprise me."
"A'ight, pineapple and anchovies it is."
I cringed. "No! You better not."
"I'm kidding." A smile flashed briefly, white teeth dazzling against his beautiful brown skin. "Or am I?" With a teasing grin, he left.
An unwelcome chill swept over me. I hugged myself, wishing it was his strong arms wrapped around me instead.