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I rubbed at my throbbing temples as I glanced at another flashcard. After a three-hour-long study session, the words were beginning to blur together. Ugh. College was the worst. Mid-term week was rearing its ugly head and I was not prepared. I hate music. I hate math. I hate literature. I hate everything!

I slammed my flashcards down on my desk and pushed myself up from my chair. With an exaggerated whimper, I flopped on the bed beside Franklin. His nose buried deep in my History of Western Music textbook, he didn't seem to notice my suffering.

In fact, he looked totally relaxed and at peace. Dressed in a fitted T-shirt and sweatpants, my house was like a second home to him. And my room was a sanctuary, a safe place we could retreat to when life started to suck. Simply shutting the door closed the world out, no one could harm or judge us. We could be ourselves. We could dance, sing, be silly, scream, and cry—we were free to open our bleeding hearts to one another without consequence.

I wouldn't trade it for the world.

Eyes narrowed with the effort of reading, he scratched at his jaw. It was a simple, fleeting movement, but it captured my attention regardless. His luxuriant beard, neatly trimmed by an expert hand, was the perfect length for a girl to rake her fingers through. Combined with his powerful muscles, strong jaw, and the way he carried himself with a commanding air of self-confidence…he was just so manly.

"You're staring," he murmured, his gaze still glued to that stupid textbook.

Crap. Heat rose to my cheeks. Burying my blushing face against his shoulder, I tickled his sides. Stifling a laugh, he squirmed and shifted away from me. "Ay, stop that."

I shoved a hand between him and the book pages, blocking the words. "Why? Am I bothering you?"

"No shit," he said. "You know I'm doing this for you, right? You begged me to read through all this history bullshit so I could help you understand it, remember?"

"I'm tired of studying. Let's do something else." I poked his chest. "Wanna watch a movie? Go shopping? We could always hang out at the mall."

He gave me an incredulous look. "Girl, you got midterms in a couple of days. You should be studying—"

"No!" I set my lips in a pout. "I thought you were my best friend! Admit it, you hate me."

"Well, you did hog the blankets last night."

"Oh my God, you never take me seriously." I splayed the back of my hand over my forehead as if faint. "I can't keep living like this. I'm miserable."

He mocked me with a smirk. "This the part where you tell me yo' life is over 'cause you stubbed your toe? Misplaced yo' lipstick or some insignificant shit like that?"

"You're right, I lost something."

His teasing expression stalled and grew serious. "Shit, what'd you lose? I'll help you find it."

"My will to live."

He sighed. "Don't be so dramatic, girl."

"You don't get it. I suck at tests. All I want is for Mom and Dad to be proud of me, but maybe this whole college thing was a mistake. My classes are way harder than I thought they'd be."

"You finna pass those midterms, a'ight? You got this." He tipped up my chin with his finger, wordlessly demanding I look at him. "No matter what happens, yo' parents won't ever stop loving you. They'll be proud of you regardless, Trace. Don't even sweat that shit."

Feeling inexplicably hot for some reason, I stood and turned on the AC. "I really hope you're right."

"Ain't I always?" His phone chimed. He glanced at the screen, grimaced, and quickly swiped left to reject the call.

I returned to his side. Curled up against him, I rested my head in his lap. His fingers slid through my hair, brushing back the strands from my forehead. "Who was that?" I asked.

"Nobody." His answer was clipped, too dismissive for comfort.

Curiosity getting the better of me, I continued to pry. "Must have been someone. Tell me."

"Uh, it was that girl I was chilling with at the bar, while you were on yo' date with the frat boy. I think her name was La'Quaysha or La'Quisha…" He paused, his brows knotted together. "Coulda been Barbeesha—I ain't too sure."

"Barbeesha? Seriously?" I grinned. "You went on a date with this chick and you don't even remember her name?"

"I didn't spend but fifteen minutes with her before you called me to pick you up. She wasn't too happy 'bout me leaving out of the blue"—he shrugged somewhat fatalistically—"but it is what it is."

I frowned, my chest heavy with the sheer weight of my own guilt. When I called him, I had no consideration for his time or his plans. Distressed and overwhelmed with emotion because of Chad, I was enclosed in a bubble of my own misery and I couldn't see past it. I was selfish.

Although, deep down, I was relieved things turned out the way it did. The mere thought of him being around another girl, let alone on a date with her, made my skin crawl and my blood boil. It hurt to imagine him touching someone else, smiling and looking at her with the same tenderness he showed me.

I bet La'Quaysha or La-Quisha—whatever her name is—was all over him too. Even though he gave her nothing more than fifteen minutes of his time, she was interested in him still. Or else she wouldn't have called. Who could blame her? He was the literal definition of tall, dark, and handsome. And it only took one glance at his custom-made diamond watch and designer clothes to tell he was friggin' rich.

"Do you think you'll see her again?" I mumbled. My voice didn't sound like mine, dull and clogged by my own insecurities.

"Preferably not," he said. "Five minutes into the date, I got the vibe she wasn't down for anything serious. Just wanted free drinks and a quick fuck."

A fierce revulsion swept over me. My stomach hardened to stone. I shot up and pivoted to face him. "If that bitch is horny, tell her to buy an effing vibrator. You are not a toy she can play with."

A wry smile twisted his lips. "Damn straight, Trace. Preach."

"I'm serious," I bit out. "Avoid her. She's not worth the time or money."

Franklin's smile fading, he responded with an arched brow. I didn't realize I was clutching onto his wrist with bruising force until his gaze lowered to my hand. Red-faced and thoroughly embarrassed by my blatant display of possessiveness, I quickly released him. "I-I'm sorry. I just…I think you can do better."

I stood and left the room, needing the space. And a breather. My head still hammering from my long study session and mounting stress, I grabbed a towel and filled a bowl with hot water for a warm compress. With the curtains blocking out most of the sunlight, the living room was dark and quiet enough for relaxation. I curled up on the couch with my legs tucked beneath me, laid my compress across my forehead, and closed my eyes.

I woke sometime later to smelly breath and slobber on my cheek. Forcing my eyes open, Chop appeared, his hefty paws tapping on the floor with such unbridled excitement, it looked like he was dancing. What a cutie. Wiping the slobber from my face with my towel, I opened my arms and the giant furball jumped into my lap for cuddles and snuggles.

With a leash in hand, Franklin leaned over the top couch cushions. He greeted me with a soft pat on my head. "Sorry for leaving without letting you know, didn't wanna wake you."

"What?" I glanced out the window. A blanket of darkness had fallen over the city. Jeez, nighttime already? "How long have you been gone?"

"'Bout two hours. Had to pick up Chop from my homie's crib. He got some shit to do and won't be back 'til tomorrow." He gave his dog some scratches behind the ears. "Can't leave Little Homie in the backyard unsupervised, I've seen him jump over too many damn fences to count."

"Chop is always welcome to stay here, you know. There's plenty of space in the yard for him to run around and explore. And we can walk him every day together. Can he play Frisbee? Oh! We can take him to the dog park! He can play with the other doggos, it'll be so cute! He'll have so much fun!"

"Trace, Chop finna be here for only one night. And I'ma be watching his ass like a hawk the entire time." Franklin snapped his fingers. Chop's ears pricked up at the sound, he hopped off the couch and sat obediently at my best friend's feet. "Stay there, boy. I'll be back in a bit." He gathered a few unwashed dishes from off the coffee table, including my leftover bowl of water, and headed into the kitchen.

I followed him. "Hey, why are you being mean to Chop? He's a doggie! He deserves to run free."

"You might be cool with a Rottweiler running free around yo' crib, but Michael and Amanda ain't." He winced at the sight of the kitchen. Plates stained with last night's dinner were stacked next to our sink overflowing with dirty dishes. There were leftover Chinese food boxes scattered across the island.

"Oops," I managed a laugh. "Looks like me and Jimmy forgot to clean up after ourselves…again."

"No shit," he said with a note of amusement. "You know, when Mike asked me to watch after y'all, I had no idea I'd be babysitting grown-ass adults. Most of the time I feel like a butler, but without no damn benefits."

A shiver moved through me. Franklin in a classy butler suit…yummy. Nothing beats a sexy man in uniform. I could imagine his rippling muscles bulging from the expensive fabric as he moved in that heart-stopping way of his, with arrogance and fluidity. He was the type of guy that'd make a girl want to undress him with her teeth, slow and worshipfully to give every curve and solid plane of his godlike body the admiration it so rightfully deserved—

"Trace." His voice snapped me back to reality. "Mind helping me clean up a bit?"

"Sure." I rounded up the leftover food cartons and tossed them in the garbage. Then I got to work on wiping down the greasy counters with a soapy sponge.

"Did you see Big-J today?" Franklin asked as he filled the dishwasher with plates.

"Nope, but I'm pretty sure that loser is around here somewhere, probably cooped up in his room as always."

He shook his head. "I went to check on him earlier while you were napping. He wasn't there. Kinda weird for Big-J to bounce without making some big ass grand announcement first."

"Please stop calling him Big-J. If Jimmy left without saying anything, then maybe he didn't want us to know."

Franklin stiffened. "Shit. Should I be worried?"

"Don't be." I pat his broad shoulder reassuringly. "Wherever Jimmy is, I'm sure he's fine. And if, God forbid, something does happen, he has my number on speed dial and won't hesitate to call."

"I hope you're right, girl. I've been meaning to talk to him 'bout yesterday. If we weren't around to save his crazy ass, he'd be in some deep motherfucking shit right now. Locked up or worse." Now that all the dirty dishes were put away, he washed his hands and turned to face me, his expression somber. "One day he's gonna dig himself into a hole we can't pull his ass out of."

"Frank." I placed a hand to his chest. He was anxious, heart racing with concern over my brother. Despite how much of a burden and a headache Jimmy was most of the time, Franklin really cared about him. It was sweet.

He clasped my hand with both of his. "Should I tell yo' pops what went down yesterday?"

"I don't know," I frowned. "Jimmy's relying on us to keep our mouths shut. If one of us snitches, it'll break his trust, and knowing my brother, he'll never let us forget it."

"You know better than anyone that lying to Michael is a bad move. I mean, the dude is a pretty big fuckin' liar himself. He's good at reading motherfuckers and seeing through their bullshit."

"The perks of being a crook and a con artist," I sighed. "You were the last one to talk to Dad. Do you know when he's coming home?"

"Nah. Far as I know, yo' parents are still enjoying their vacation together."

"That's what they want you to think." I threw my sponge into the sink and turned for the living room. "The truth of the matter is, we have no effing clue what they're actually up to. But knowing Dad, I'm gonna take a wild guess that whatever he's doing, it's probably illegal. And Mom is enabling it, being the blind and perfect trophy wife while Dad wreaks havoc everywhere he goes."

Franklin joined me on the couch with a bottle of wine in hand. He filled a glass for us both. "You got some serious daddy issues, girl. Wanna talk 'bout it?"

"Heck no. I think I've said more than enough about my parents for one night. I'm stressed out as it is over school. My dysfunctional family should be the last of my worries right now."

"To you and yo' dysfunctional ass family." He clinked his glass against mine and took a drink. "Can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em."

"Story of my life." Gingerly, I sipped my wine. "I should probably get back to studying soon. Still willing to help me with history?"

"Yeah. Not like I got shit else to do—"

The front door swung open with a thud and I jumped, startled to find Jimmy wobbling into the house, holding onto a dozen hot pizza boxes stacked up to his chin. And he wasn't alone. A flock of chatty guests strolled in behind him, laughing and chattering boisterously among one another.

So much for studying.

Struggling to balance the pizza pies, Jimmy carefully set the food down on the coffee table in front of me. "Hey, guys," he greeted Franklin and I with a wide smile. "Did you miss me?"

Some blonde dude in an oversized basketball jersey pulled out a boombox and started blasting gangster rap. People danced and head banged to the beat. A guy carrying a case of beer rushed through the door, which felt super wrong considering there were plenty of young faces here who were most certainly under the legal age to drink. Teenagers and alcohol were recipe for disaster.

"Jimmy!" I screamed at him. "What the hell is going on? Who are these people?"

"These are my homies! Don't you know a par-tay when you see one?" He grabbed my elbows and waved my arms around forcibly. "Throw your hands in the air, wave them around like you just don't care!"

"Get off, moron!" I jerked away, and my glass of wine spilled on the white carpet. "Holy crap," I breathed. Mom would literally skin us alive if she saw this.

My best friend appeared beside us. "Jimmy, you didn't think to call before inviting all these motherfuckers over? You can't just be throwing house parties on a whim, man."

"No offense, F-Dog, but I already have a dad"—Jimmy jabbed a finger at Franklin—"and it's not you. Stop telling me what I can and can't fucking do, bro. This is my house. You're just hired help, so why don't you go cook or clean something instead of bitching all the time?"

The glare Franklin shot my brother was deadly. Fists clenched, he was literally vibrating with rage. I've never seen him so livid. Fearing for Jimmy's safety, I latched onto Franklin's arm and dragged him through the gyrating crowd. Escorting him outside for some fresh air, I didn't stop pulling him along until we reached the shadowy driveway.

Veins protruding from his powerful biceps, he dipped into his car and grabbed a blunt from the glove compartment. Leaning against the doorframe, I watched him smoke his weed down to his fingertips in silence. I didn't care for the smell, but everyone had their coping mechanisms.

His eyes were slightly red, but overall, he seemed to be handling the high well. A few hits of a well-rolled joint brought out the giggles in most people, and it could floor the less tolerant. Franklin, however, seemed somewhat numb to the effects. Lips pressed into a flat line, his head hung low in a moody silence. I tapped his elbow, but he had no reaction to my touch, as if he had retreated so far into himself that he became detached with the rest of the world. With me.

I felt my best friend pulling farther and farther away with every second that passed. My mind reeling with confusion, I took a step away from him, imitating the painful distance I felt building between us.

The things Jimmy said to him…the words replayed in my mind and I couldn't help but scowl. Franklin was doing everything in his power to make sure we were happy and provided for in our parent's absence. Instead of being grateful, he was acting like a complete asshole.

Granted, we should be able to care for ourselves, but Mom and Dad pampered us like babies our entire lives. We didn't have the skills or abilities to deal with the everyday challenges of life. We had no clue how to conduct ourselves like adults because we were never taught how. We had our parents as role models, but honestly, they were childish too. And crazy. We were all screwed up.

I was growing with age. The hardships of college were slowly whipping me into shape. Jimmy though…he's a lost cause.

"I didn't know you smoked," I broke the silence.

"I don't." His voice was lifeless and subdued, lacking its usual distinct sensuality. "Had this blunt in the glovebox collecting dust for months. I quit gettin' faded shortly after meeting you. Guess I just fuckin' relapsed."

Unsure of what to say, I settled with, "I'm sorry about Jimmy."

"Ain't your fault." Franklin glanced at the constant stream of people drifting in and out of the house, his jaw tightened. "First thing in the morning, I'ma hit up Michael and tell him to bring his ass back to Los Santos. Clearly, y'all need him." He whistled, and Chop came speeding out of the house, taking his rightful seat in his master's car.

I rubbed at my stomach, trying to quell the unease and anxiety that rooted itself there. "That's—that's it? You're just going to leave?"

"I ain't really in the mood for a party." He stomped out the blunt beneath his boot heel and turned away.

"Are you coming back?"

He didn't respond, but the grim look on his face confirmed my greatest fear.

His silence was devastating. I stared at his back in utter disbelief, my heartbeat pounding. Was this his fucked-up way of saying good-bye? He was just going to walk away like I never existed? Like all the time we spent and the memories we made together meant nothing at all?

"Frank."

He froze at my call, hearing the desperation in my voice. Or maybe he sensed my yearning.

"Stay," I pleaded, sour emotion tying knots in my guts. "I know it's been a rough night, but you don't have to leave. Screw Jimmy, you know how he is. He says things without thinking and always regrets it later. Don't hold it against him, okay? Talk to me, don't run—"

"We can't do this forever," he countered coldly.

"Why not? Because of Dad? You said you weren't afraid of him."

"I ain't."

"Then why are you acting like such a fucking coward?" I cried, struggling to hold back my tears. "How long are you going to live a lie? Just admit it already, you're terrified of my father." He opened his mouth and I held up my palm, his protest spluttered into silence. "You don't even realize how badly my dad has you wrapped around his finger. You're like a beaten, desperate dog jumping hoops to please him. It's pathetic."

His gaze drilled into me, brutal and hostile, and it only infuriated me more. All I wanted was for him to care about me—to need me as badly as I needed him. But that was never going to happen. I couldn't force him to stay with me. Maybe it was time to let go and move on.

"Have a nice life, Frank. I hope your undying loyalty to Dad works out for you in the end. Maybe he won't let you down like he does everyone else."

I left him there and strode toward the house to nurse my wounds. I couldn't stand to look at Franklin's stupid, handsome face for a second longer. God, his mood swings were the worst. Jimmy pissed him off, I get it, but that's no excuse to project his anger onto me. It was a shitty thing to do and I wasn't gonna put up with it.

The living room stank of cigarettes and sweaty bodies. Keeping my head down to hide my flushed, teary face, I pushed my way through groups of people jumping chaotically to the hip-hop music. Uttering "excuse me" to the rude assholes blocking the steps, I finally made it to my room. Turning the knob, I regretfully discovered my personal little sanctuary had been invaded by horny teenagers.

It took me a moment to register what I was looking at, shocked and standing at the threshold as strangers in the hallway casually passed by. On top of my bed, there were two scantily-clad brunettes kissing on a guy, one of them straddling him while the other sucked on his neck.

Fed up with everyone in my life, I picked up one of my nearby heels and threw it at the fuckers on my bed. "Get out!" I screamed at the top of my lungs. Frightened, the horny teenagers shot up and brushed past me for the exit, scrambling like roaches.

Seething and bitter from my consecutive letdowns, I stomped into the living room. Jimmy was standing on top of the couch with a microphone in his hand as the crowd performed a group dance in sync.

"Slide to the left, slide to the right," Jimmy sang. "Ladies, if you got a man, we don't care! Throw that big ol' booty in the air!"

Jimmy singing was bad enough to make my ears bleed. I snatched the boombox off the coffee table and, without thinking of the significant damages it'd cause, I threw the damn thing out the window. The music immediately stopped once it shattered the glass and ended up somewhere in the bushes outside. Thank God.

"My boombox!" a guy cried out from the crowd.

With every pair of eyes in the room glued to me, I stabbed a finger at the door. "Get the fuck out of my house! NOW!"

A symphony of booing erupted around me. "James, who is this bitch?" a feminine voice spoke over the masses. "She's ruining our party!"

"Everybody, calm down," Jimmy said into the microphone. "That's just my annoying, tramp sister. She can't stop us!"

"That's it!" I whipped out my phone, my blood boiling. "I'm calling Dad—"

Some willowy chick stumbled forward, pretending to trip over her own feet. The cold contents within her glass cup spilled all over me and drenched my cell phone. I was a second away from lunging at the bitch when a strong arm came around my waist, rooting me to the spot. I looked up, nearly losing my footing when I locked eyes with Franklin.

He came back! My anger toward him melting away into fierce gratitude, I drew closer to him. There was an entire room of people up at arms against me, but with Franklin at my side, I felt safe.

Very calmly, he announced, "Five-O 'bout to come through."

Franklin's warning—undeniably a bluff—worked like magic. The stubborn partygoers frantically grabbed their belongings and dispersed, flooding the doorway.

"W-wait, don't go!" Jimmy called out to his friends. "The party is just getting started! Who's gonna eat all this pizza?"

Franklin pulled the microphone cord out of the wall socket. "Man, give it a rest. It's over, fool."

His fat face flushing furiously, Jimmy looked ready to explode, his body trembled like a volcano. Glaring daggers into both Franklin and I, he stepped down from the couch and stormed off, bumping shoulders with my best friend on the way out the door.

"Jimmy?" My heart skipped a beat. I ran after him. "Where are you going?"

He turned abruptly on his heel and opened his palm to me expectantly. "Give me your car keys."

"What?"

"I said give me your fucking keys!"

Tired and burned out from all the drama, I dipped a hand into my pocket and gave him what he wanted.

"I totaled my whip earlier, so I'll be taking yours, ho. Fuck you." He hopped into my car and stomped on the gas, the tires screeching as he pulled off. Also, he made sure to flip me the bird before disappearing into traffic. If anyone else would've called me a ho and stole my car, I'd be upset. Traumatized even. But considering my crazy effing brother was the culprit…I wasn't surprised.

The house was in total shambles, glass shards and beer bottles were all over the floor. Cigarette butts too. Not to mention, my shirt and phone was soaked with what I presumed to be soda.

I joined Franklin inside. He flashed a rueful smile at the sight of me. "Girl, you have any idea how much it finna cost to fix this damn window?"

"Whatever. I'll get in touch with a repairman tomorrow." Weary to the bone, I dried off my phone and collapsed on the couch. It'd be nice to relax in my bed, but my sheets were going to need a thorough cleaning first. God, what a day. I'd do anything for a shower, but I was too emotionally and physically drained to move right now. "I thought you were leaving, Frank."

"I considered it. Then I saw an old ass boombox fly through the motherfuckin' window." Chuckling, he retrieved a broom from the kitchen and began sweeping. "Shit, it would've been easy to bounce and put all this damn drama behind me."

Because I heard it hanging in the air, I filled it in. "But…?"

"I ain't a coward."

My mouth curved. "So, you're here just to prove a point?"

"Maybe." His teeth gleamed in a grin, his face so impossibly beautiful I had trouble taking it in sometimes. He extended his hand to me in a silent gesture of apology. "We cool?"

I nodded, our fingers instinctively intertwined. I could never be mad at him for long. Occasionally, we had heated arguments and disagreements, but we always found our way back to each other. In the end, that's all that mattered.

Thank you for reading! Follow/Fav if you're enjoying so far, and please leave a review, honest feedback is appreciated! Seriously, reviews make a writers day and let me know that people are actually reading! I LOVE you guys, thank you so much for reading. Follow Anboringday on tumblr if you wanna talk, thank you!