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It was pouring rain when I got out of class the following day. Franklin arrived right on time, and surprisingly with an umbrella too. He sheltered me from the shower as he escorted me to his car, then picked up Jimmy from work, and took us both back home. I couldn't be more thankful. Doing household chores like fixing broken pipes to supporting my brother and I, mentally and emotionally—he had taken up Dad's responsibilities in its entirety.

Dad was an overprotective nutjob. Super paranoid. Which begged the question: what was the nature of Dad and Franklin's relationship? Why did he trust Franklin enough to look after us? And more importantly, why the heck did Franklin agree to such a heavy load of responsibility without payment? He had a life. He had his own problems, and obligations to worry about. Why waste the energy caring for my family when he could just as easily invest that time somewhere else?

Regardless of his reasons, I always enjoyed his company. And so did Jimmy. He needed a friend.

We were all wet from the rain when we got home. As I kicked off my shoes at the door, Franklin shrugged out of his damp black sweater, revealing a white tank top underneath. The prime view of his massive, perfectly sculpted biceps took my breath away, his muscles flexed and relaxed with the flow of his movement. Did his arms feel as hard and powerful as they looked? My fingers aching with the need to touch, I had to force my hands into my pockets to resist the urge of reaching out to him.

My date with Chad was in a few hours, and here I was, obsessing over my best friend's savage beauty once again. It felt…wrong. Taut as a wire, I retreated into the kitchen for a glass of wine. I needed a drink. Maybe a bit of alcohol could remedy the tight knot in my stomach. It pulled and tightened whenever I thought about the masquerade ball tonight. About Chad. My insides jangled with dread, I tossed my drink back with trembling fingers.

There was a note on the counter.

If you're reading this, I'm not coming home tonight. I'm spending a romantic getaway weekend with your father. There's leftover pizza in the fridge. If you need anything, don't call me. Franklin is there for a reason.

—Mom

Wow. Mom and Dad could be such effing deadbeats sometimes.

An angry boom of thunder cracked the air. I shuddered, dropping my drink. The glass shattered, the contents spilled on the floor.

Franklin appeared at my side as if by magic. "You good? Did you cut yourself?"

"I'm fine," I scrubbed a shaky hand over my face. "Mom is gonna kill me for breaking her wine glass, she spent a fortune on it."

"Nah. It was a mistake, she'll understand." With a broom and dustpan in hand, he began sweeping up the broken shards of glass. "Trace?"

"Yes?"

"Can you give me a hand?"

I caught his hand and linked my fingers with his. He froze, his eyes lowered to where our fingers connected. "That ain't what I meant," he said with a hint of amusement.

"Oh. Um…" My face heated. Awkward. "What did you mean then?"

"Some help cleanin' up this mess you made would be nice." With a chuckle, he gravitated closer, his soft laughter was a tantalizing rumble in my ear. "But if you just wanna hold hands instead, I'm cool with that too."

His teasing broke the tension of the moment. I sighed and hugged him. He set the broom aside to return the hug, the warmth of his body quelled the war of emotions raging inside me.

"I'm sorry for acting like such a weirdo," I murmured. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Ay, stop that. There ain't nothing wrong with you." Holding me a fraction tighter, he rested his chin atop my head. "How 'bout you go relax while I clean this up?"

I glanced at the glass pieces and wine all over the floor. "Are you sure? I'm the one who made this mess in the first place, Frank. You shouldn't have to do this alone."

"It's a'ight. Don't worry." He flashed me a reassuring smile. "Go. I got this."

"Okay." I gave his hand a gentle squeeze before leaving for the living room. Curling into the corner of the couch, I rested my eyes and focused on breathing. In and out, calmly, just like Doctor Friedlander taught me. If I didn't get my emotions together soon, I'm totally going to bomb my date with Chad tonight.

Assuming I could muster the strength to even show up. Was it too late to cancel?

Alone with only the soft pitter-patter of rain on the windowsill to keep me company, I eventually drifted off to sleep.

"Trace?" I woke to the sound of Franklin's voice. He sank onto the couch beside me with a bowl of hot chicken noodle soup in his grasp. "You seemed a little on edge earlier, girl. Thought this would help."

"Oh, Frank, you shouldn't have." I didn't realize how hungry I was until I took a sip of the warm broth. Yummy. My heart swelled. What would I do without my best friend?

"Is it good?" he asked.

"It's perfect." I leaned in and kissed his cheek. "Thank you."

He grinned sheepishly, his masculine features softening with a boyish charm. The full, throaty sound of his laughter was like a sweet melody in my ears. It was times like this that I adored him the most, when his walls were down and his true self shined through. Deep down, he was kind, compassionate, and tenderhearted despite the suffering this terrible world had put him through.

The world had failed him. In that moment, as I reveled in the beauty of his laughter, I vowed not to be yet another source of pain. I strived to be his healing balm instead, someone he could turn to in times of uncertainty and stress. It seemed like a far-fetched dream considering how guarded he could be at times, but every glimpse of vulnerability he revealed brought us closer. Maybe one day I'd earn his trust, and the impalpable barrier between us would crumble entirely.

I finished my soup and reached for the remote. "My date is in three hours. Wanna watch a short chick flick?"

"Shouldn't you be getting ready?" He fingered a curl of my messy strands. "Your hair ain't done yet, or your makeup."

"I still have time." I had a massive collection of unwatched romance movies stored on the DVR. I chose the first one and snuggled close to my best friend, my ankle hooked over his knee. "I need this. Being with you is calming."

Franklin didn't argue. Instead, his arm curled around me, pulling me even closer. He laid his rugged cheek against the crown of my head, and murmured, "Don't forget to take your pills with you tonight. Just in case. If something happens, I ain't finna be there to settle you down."

"I won't forget." Delighted in the sensation of his warm, hard body against mine, I grew lax in his embrace. My forehead tucked in the crook of his neck, I breathed him in, an enticing mixture of cologne and his own distinctly male scent. The movie was simply background noise as we held each other, basking in one another's closeness. "Frank, do you think I'll ever be normal?"

His fingertips traced the curve of my cheek and the line of my jaw. Despite his blatant strength, his touch was unbelievably delicate. "Normal? Why would you wanna be that? Sounds boring."

I nudged him. "You know what I mean."

"I ain't no doctor but you've been living with them panic attacks most yo' life. It didn't break you yet. And it never will."

Absentmindedly, I toyed with his calloused fingers and palm, the slightly rough texture felt so nice against my skin. "I didn't break because you're holding me together."

"No," he bit out. "You grew up in Los Santos—we both did, and this crazy, motherfucking city…it changes people. Usually for the worse, but we survived the bullshit. We're still here. That's gotta count for something, you feel me?" His voice softened. "You ain't as fragile as you think you are, Trace."

"But you're a lot stronger than I am," I frowned. "I wish you didn't have to go through all those bad things growing up. Gangbanging and hurting people to survive. The loneliness without your parents. I wish I could take it all away."

"Ay, look at me." He tipped up my chin, forcing me to gaze into his glittering amber eyes. "All that bad shit is behind me. I ain't dwelling on it, and neither should you. I'm good. I'm okay. I promise." His pinky hooked around mine. "Are you okay?"

I nodded. In his arms, everything was perfect.

We watched the chick flick from start to finish. At the end, the girl banged the guy of her dreams, they got married, and lived happily ever after. However, there was one part in particular that left seeds of doubt sprouting in my head.

I turned to my best friend for advice, "How important is the goodnight kiss after the date?"

"Pretty important." He straightened and went into the kitchen, returning a moment later with a canned soda. "Physical intimacy matters. If the chemistry feels off, there ain't finna be another date."

Oh my God. "Frank, w-what if I'm a bad kisser?"

He snorted and popped open his soda. "Nah, girl. You good. You'll be fine."

"How do you know that for sure?"

Franklin responded with the tiniest resigned shrug as he downed his drink.

Annoyed by his indifference, I raised my voice to a whiny pitch. "This is Chad effing Dillington we're talking about! He's dated dozens of girls and has tons of experience! What if I'm not good enough for him? What if—"

Grinding his strong jaw, he clenched my shoulders tightly, disrupting my complaining. "Kiss me."

My heart stopped at the sudden demand, arousal surging through my veins at his authoritative tone. It took my brain a few seconds to register his words. "Are…are you serious?"

His eyes darkened. "Imagine I'm the frat boy. We had a good date. I drive you home, we're standing outside yo' front door. I tell you goodnight and…"

He edged closer, his powerful frame surrounded me, closing me in and everything outside that bubble ceased to exist. His nose nuzzled mine, the warmth of his breath on my neck caused my thoughts to scramble. I couldn't think, I could barely breathe with him so close, his body radiated energy and hunger that spurred my wild desire for him. My gaze snared with his and my pulse kicked, anticipation thickened the air in my lungs.

His full lips were a forbidden temptation but resisting him was impossible. I grew tired of fighting the desire. I wanted him. Bad.

All the emotion and tension bundled up inside me was too much to contain. Hot, twitchy, and restless, every cell in my body straining toward his, I threw myself at him, devouring his lips with a frantic rush of eager kisses. A violent shudder moved through him, hard enough to shake me too. My stomach dropped. Unnerved by the fury of his reaction, I froze. "What's wrong?"

"This ain't no race, girl. Slow. Down." His hand glided through my hair and clasped the nape of my neck with gentle strength. He was in control now, our breath mingling as his perfect mouth lingered agonizingly close to mine. My skin tingled as his voice lowered intimately. "Relax. Follow my lead, baby."

The term of endearment sounded so seductively sweet from his lips, I shivered. Tilting my head slightly, he sealed his mouth over mine. The kiss was tender enough to make my heart flutter, the expertly soft pressure his firm lips exerted was amazing. I sighed, melting into the passionate coaxing. His tongue slid over my parted lips, light and teasingly with just the right amount of aggressiveness to drive a girl wild.

I loved the way he kissed me. I loved the delicate power of his working mouth, and how deeply his beautifully full lips affected me. Savoring the unique taste of him, I touched his face, caressing the sharp lines of his bearded jaw as he massaged my mouth with intoxicating possessiveness.

With a growl, he broke the kiss. Panting, his forehead touched mine. My breath caught on a surge of yearning so intense, it felt like pain. Needing the connection, my hands clung tight to his shirt.

My heart beating uncontrollably in my chest, I was shaken by the profound depth of feelings I had for Franklin. What we shared was more than friendship. Deeper than mere companionship. I was attached to him. Dependent. And whenever we were apart, I felt empty and hollow, like something or someone was missing. In that moment, a frightening realization dawned on me—a truth I've been running from and refusing to accept for weeks.

I'm in love with my best friend. Screw Chad. Screw that stupid ball. Everything I ever wanted was right in front of me.

Franklin's phone buzzed with a notification. "What's that?" I asked.

Blinking as if coming out of a trance, he glanced at his phone and gritted his teeth audibly. "Shit. I…uh…" He swallowed deep. "I got a date."

My heart sank to my toes. I scooted to the other end of the couch, the moment effectively broken. All the heat that built between us dwindled into a bitter chill. "A date?" I asked sourly. "Do you…do you like her?"

"We just met." He paused for a moment, chewing on his bottom lip. "Finna link up with her soon and see how things go, I guess. I meant to tell you sooner, but it slipped my mind. My bad."

"It's okay." My voice was barely a whisper, but he didn't seem to notice. Or maybe he didn't care. With a quick glance at the clock, I scrambled to my feet. "My date with Chad is in an hour. I'm gonna go get ready. Bye."

Filled with sick jealousy and refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing it, I feigned a smile and left him there, racing upstairs to my room. My knees gave out and I cried into my pillows so no one would hear. The rejection stung deep, but maybe a night with the hottest boy in school was just what I needed to dull the ache.

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