Muscle aches I hadn’t realized I had made themselves known. My feet hurt. My legs hurt. I think my ass even hurt, but that could just be sympathy pains. Cracking the door to let the humidity out, I hung up my towel, ran some lotion over my arms and legs, slapped on some deodorant, then pulled on the bra and panties before tugging the blue lace tank top on. I gave it a critical eye. It looked even better than it had I the store, solid panels covered my boobs and the lace was dark and dense enough you had to pay attention to realize it was revealing at all.
Jeans went on last, but they were soft, ripped, and worn in all the right places. One perk of hitting my max height when I was fourteen—most of what fit me then still fit me and my favorite jeans were still my favorite jeans. The washed out color of the jeans looked good against the dark blue top.
Dressed, I pulled the door wide and tugged off the towel and shook out my damp curls. Everything was already pulling upward. I remember in junior high, one of the girls told me how much she envied me my hair. What she didn’t get was those curls meant I had two styles—one where the curls looked okay and the other where I was Captain FrizzGirl
Did I want to put on cosmetics?
With a snort, I settled for a quick brush of my teeth, facial moisturizer, and lip gloss. The gloss I stored in my pocket in case I needed it later. Dirty clothes under my arm, I shut off the light in the bathroom and headed back to my room.
“Hey, Frankie, what’s dessert options?” Coop had my phone, which I’d stupidly left next to my wallet on the dresser.
Dammit. I shoved my dirty clothes in the hamper and crossed the room to pluck the phone away, but he twisted to hold onto it.
He repeated, “Who or what is a dessert option?”
There was a message on the screen, but I couldn’t see it, so I tackled Coop. We’d played this game before, because the brat loved to do keep away. Was it very zen? No, but it could be fun…except for when I really didn’t want him looking at my messages. He grunted as I managed to land on his back, but he had my phone under him, so I had to squirm an arm between him and the bed.
“Give me my phone, Coop.”
“Aww… c’mon. You changed your password so I couldn’t see more than the ingredients…” His muffled response didn’t do anything to cool my temper.
“Give me…” I grunted. There, I could almost feel my phone. Before I could snag it, Coop gripped my wrist and rolled. Suddenly, I was on the bed, and he was on top, unrepentant grin in place as he pinned me down.
“Do you still have the touch ID enabled?”
Oh crap. He moved my hand so he could press my thumb to the phone’s button. Aggravation and the deep desire to keep Mathieu private collided as I wrenched my hand free and managed to get my knee right between his thighs. Only the fact it was a struggle kept me from truly slamming it into his nuts. But the pressure stilled him, and he stared at me…
“Give. Me. My. Phone.” My wet hair had been rubbed all over the duvet. There’d be frizz galore no matter what.
The teasing fled his expression, and he handed me the phone before putting a hand on either side of me on the bed. Still half-hovering over me, he said, “I’m just playing, Frankie.”
“Well, I wasn’t having fun.” I glared at him and, for once, he didn’t retort with a joke. Only after he glanced down between us, did I lower my knee so he could get off me, but then his gaze lingered for a moment on my top. Specifically, to where my top had rolled up.
“Nice bra,” he said. It came out almost weak, and he rolled off me finally, but not fast enough that he missed getting hit in the face with my pillow. “Ow.”
“Jerk,” I muttered, sitting up and pulling the top where it was supposed to be. I should probably change it. Then I ran my fingers through my wreck of a hair.
I looked at the phone. Mathieu’s message just suggested two different ingredients. It was a response to a question I’d sent him earlier in the day. He recommended real cream and butter over the alternatives. Panting, I shoved away from the bed. The duvet was half off and now both pillows were on the floor.
Coop caught my arm. “Frankie…”
“What?”
“Sorry.” He gave me a quick smile. “I really was playing. Your phone buzzed, and I thought it was the guys.”
“So you had to look?” I raised my eyebrows. Irritated didn’t begin to cover it.
“I didn’t think you’d care,” Coop said carefully. “You didn’t used to mind.”
“I didn’t?” Since we were on the topic… “When you would steal it and send messages to the guys or my other friends? Poking fun or telling jokes? Or when you would fill it with goofy photos and then post them to my Instagram?”
Uncertainty hovered in his gray-green eyes. “I’m going to go with all of the above. If you didn’t want me to do it…”
“What part of give me my phone did you fail to understand?” I hadn’t even had a date with Mathieu yet. Right now, we were just going to make a dessert. Well, I was, and he was going to supervise. But I liked him, and I liked the idea of him.
Coop? Coop would spoil that if he outed me to the guys. Then Jake or Archie would do something stupid. If I had any doubts about their reactions, Archie’s intensity at dinner the night before made it clear.
He spread his hands. “I’m sorry, Frankie.” No caveats, no excuses, just an apology. “I guess we don’t play like that anymore.”
I glanced at my phone when it buzzed. Coop’s did at the same time, and he looked past me to the bed. When I glanced over my shoulder, Laura’s name was on the screen with three plus messages highlighted. The second message was from Archie.
Archie had sent me one, too. When I faced Coop once more, I raised my eyebrows, “Still tripping on Laura?”
He grimaced. “I thought if I didn’t answer…”
“’Cause ghosting is the way to go. Grow a pair, Coop. Date her. Don’t—” But I hesitated, there was something in his expression. “You didn’t just kiss her. You had sex with her.”
For some reason, that bugged the hell out of me. My stomach dropped and my chest hurt. Coop didn’t deny it. Instead, he shoved his hands into his pockets and backed up another step. “It wasn’t…”
“What? You tripped and fell on her naked? What wasn’t it?” All at once, I was furious and hurt, and the last thing I wanted to do was have this conversation. Heat raced over my skin and my throat hurt.
“I didn’t—have sex sex. I…thought about it, but I didn’t have a condom.” The last part was mumbled.
“So you almost had sex but you didn’t?” That didn’t make it better. If anything… “And that’s why she keeps texting you. You told her you’d make it up to her.” I knew Coop. I’d known him for a long, long time. He lived to make people happy. Part of that zen attitude came from not rocking the boat, avoiding upsetting others and just—go with the flow. If Laura’s flow was getting naked and doing the horizontal mambo, Coop would get on board. Course, apparently the lack of condom slowed that down.
“She wanted to get together tonight,” Coop admitted. “But I had plans with you guys.”
The sudden banging on the back door interrupted us, and I let out a shaky breath. I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry. The chant sustained me as I brushed past him and headed to the kitchen. I didn’t have to guess who it was, so I opened the door and the other three were just there.
Jake, in a black t-shirt and jeans, looked like he just rolled out of a bad boy magazine with his dark hair and pale blue eyes. Bubba dressed in a blue t-shirt with the logo of some defunct television show on it and jeans. His hair was wet and his smile wide. Archie was right behind them, requisite rock band t-shirt tucked into his jeans and an iced coffee in his hand which he presented to me like a bouquet of flowers.
As one, their smiles faltered then Jake looked from me to behind me. The frown on his face deepened into a scowl. “What the fuck did you do?”
He pushed past me and stormed through the kitchen to the living
room where Coop stood. “I didn’t do…” But Jake had him by the shirt and Bubba was right after him. Archie pressed the coffee into my hands and moved so he was between me and the guys.
“Stop,” I said, but Jake shoved Coop once, twice—the third time Coop stumbled and there was a crash.
“Let them handle it,” Archie told me, but I shook him off. Dammit, why didn’t they listen?
“Coop didn’t do anything,” I yelled and put the coffee on the counter as I got around Archie and into my living room. Bubba was already trying to get between Jake and Coop, but Coop’s zen had evaporated. Anger filled his eyes, the likes of which I hadn’t seen in a long time.
“What the hell did you do?” Jake demanded. Even Bubba being there didn’t seem to dissuade the argument. I had to catch Jake’s arm to keep him from striking Coop. That shoved me between all three of them.
“Stop. It.” I screamed each word. The neighbors were probably calling the cops.
Jake glanced at me. “Frankie…” The heavy concern in his voice didn’t make up for charging inside or breaking the coffee table.
“Don’t you Frankie me.” I’d had it. With all of them. “This is my apartment. I live here.”
As one, they each backed up, save for Archie who stood in the kitchen doorway. His eyes were narrowed, and he looked from me to Coop and then back again.
The table was in pieces. Coop had bits of wood clinging to his shirt and there was a cut on his arm. Bubba raked a hand through his hair. Concern radiated off him, but it had nothing on the anger pouring off Jake. Coop didn’t help it with the guilt staining his own reactions.
“Your shirt is torn.” Jake said, motioning to me. I glanced down. The strap on the right—sure enough—the lace had a tear in it. The solid bits were wrinkled. “You look like you’re ready to cry… and your hair…” Jake finished on a hint of a growl as he glared at Coop again. “What did you do?”
“We were wrestling over her phone,” Coop admitted. “I’d never fucking hurt her.”
“Wrestling? You’re a foot taller than she is! Why the hell would you be wrestling with her?” Jake demanded not seeming appeased one iota.
You know, it would be almost cute that he wanted to defend me, but I wasn’t helpless. “Stop. It.” Repeating myself had already grown old. “Coop didn’t hurt me.”
“You looked upset when you opened the door,” Bubba interjected, his tone cautious. Unlike Jake, he focused on me and not Coop.
“We were goofing around. I didn’t take Frankie seriously when she said to give her phone back and—we wrestled. I’ll pay for the shirt, Frankie.” Apology hung in the crease of his every word.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Jake dismissed Coop like he wasn’t there, and I ran a hand over my face. How was I supposed to explain the broken table to my mom? As it was, I’d have to replace it.
All of this because Coop wanted to read my messages? Or was teasing about it? Because the guys couldn’t…
“You guys need to go,” I said abruptly.
“Frankie,” Archie said as he finally entered the fray. “We can take care of the table. The guys are gonna clean it up. Just tell me where you…”
“I don’t know where Mom got it, Archie. We’ve had that table my whole life. So—who knows? You can’t just buy a new one and replace it. Money doesn’t fix this stuff. And—right now, I just want you guys to go.”
“We got tickets for the escape room,” Coop said slowly. “You know for our project?”
“Then go and have fun, because the only room I want to escape is the one without all of you in it.” My comment stung Bubba, and he didn’t cover his swift frown.
I would not cry. Maybe it wasn’t their fault but…
“Fuck, Frankie—” Jake raked a hand through his hair and nudged some of the broken pieces aside before he caught my hand. “I’m sorry. You looked upset and your hair is a mess and your shirt is torn… think about what it looked like. I… I’d kill anyone who hurt you.”
“Maybe that’s the problem,” I told him and pulled my hand out of his. “It’s not your job to protect me. Even if helping was the goal, you didn’t even wait to find out what happened. You just attacked Coop.”
“To be fair, Coop’s been an idiot lately,” Archie supplied, oh so not helpfully. “It’s not a stretch to think he’d upset you.”
“Arch,” Bubba said with little censure. “Give her a break.” After a glance at his watch, he said, “We have a little time. Let’s clean this up and then we’ll figure out a way to apologize to Ms. Curtis.”
Did they really not listen to me?
“Yeah, Bubba’s right,” Jake said, then he put his hands on my shoulders. The warmth of his palms reminded me of how cold it was in there, and I half wanted to shake him off and half-wanted to just get a hug. The weight of the whole week seemed to bear down on me. Mom not being home, the flat tire, Coop dating Laura, the guys telling every single person at school I was off-limits. The chances of me getting a real date before high school was over had dropped from narrow to not a chance in Hell—and this… now they were fighting.
“I’ll clean up,” I told them. “Just—go.”
“What about…?”
“Hey,” Bubba said, drawing me away from Jake. He slid an arm around my shoulders. “Take a breath. We kind of stormed in here like a bunch of assholes. You just got off work. If we’re late, we’re late. We booked the whole experience—Arch, you can call them, right?”
“Yep,” Archie said. “I’ll take care of it.”
I shrugged out from under Bubba’s arm. “Stop it and listen to me.” Jake had already picked up the largest segment of the table and Coop had knelt to grab the splintered and broken legs. They really had done a number to it. And Coop was still bleeding… “Coop, you need to go clean up your arm. Jake, leave the table alone. Archie, I don’t want to go to the escape room…I don’t want to go out at all. I just…” I met Bubba’s worried blue eyes and had to fight the urge to scream. “Guys, I just want to call it a night. This is not what I had in mind and it’s been a really, really long day. So—just—go. I’ll see you later.”
Then I took the coward’s way out, I fled back to my room and shut the door. Tiddles sat in my window, Tabby poked her head out of the closet, and Tory began to purr from somewhere under the bed as I flopped down. I will not cry. I will not cry.
I was so damn tired. School. Work. Mom. College. The guys. The crush of it made it hard to breathe. Sitting up, I looked at the tear in my shirt again and sighed. It was new. I’d got it on a whim because I liked it and now… Stripping it off, I threw it across the room, then unbuttoned my jeans and dragged them off before kicking them into the corner.
I had just pulled open the drawer on my dresser when a light knock preceded the door opening. Really? Mom came back now? Of course, she did.
“Shit,” Jake swore, and I sighed.
Great. I was just standing there in a bra and panties… you know what. Who cared? “It covers as much as a bikini and considering what Maria wasn’t wearing when she was grinding on you at Bubba’s party, I’m pretty sure you can handle it,” I said. If I sounded hostile, maybe it was because I was hostile. “Why are you still in my apartment?”
Jake leaned in the door and met my gaze, not once letting his eyes dip. “Because we screwed up, and maybe you weren’t upset before, but you are now.”
“I’ve been upset for months. Today is nothing new.”
Surprise stamped across his face.
“Yeah, I know. You didn’t know, right?” I threw his answer out for him. But the frustration swelling in me just seemed to redouble with every word. “Maybe you should ask yourself why I ghosted everyone. Or, I have a better question—why are you guys free to date who you want? Get off who you want? Almost have sex with whomever you want? But I’m untouchable?”
The door pushed open wider. Bubba stared past Jake, but his ears went red, and he dragged his gaze from my chest upward swiftly.
�
�Nice,” was Archie’s only comment.
“Still wearing as much as I would in a bikini…and, shock, you are all still here.”
“To be fair,” Archie said, nudging Bubba over so he could squeeze inside. “We weren’t leaving you the mess or the explanation for one. For another, you’re our friend. We do care.”
Nice. They just skipped right past the rest of my comment. Slamming the drawer shut, I tugged the t-shirt over my head and then pulled out a pair of sleep shorts. They were old boxers I’d probably stolen from one of them at some point. Awkward if I gave a damn at the moment.
I stepped into them and tugged them up. “Nice,” I responded. “Could you possibly care about me a little less?”
“Frankie,” Bubba said, his tone soothing. “We’re—you said something a minute ago about dating.”
“Oh, you listened?” I smiled. Trust Bubba to actually hear me. Maybe Coop had, but I couldn’t see him at the moment. “Thank you, I appreciate that. Better than Archie and Jake are doing at the moment.”
Jake sighed. “I heard you, I just didn’t know what you were talking about.”
Despite the fact Jake said it with a straight face, Archie’s half-laugh, half-snort undercut the sentiment entirely. At least I wasn’t alone in staring at him. “Frankie…none of us are dating. Not you. Not me. Not them. Well—him.” He pointed past Jake probably to Coop.
“That’s not what I said,” I told him. “Why have the four of you told everyone I’m untouchable?”
“Well, we didn’t say that,” Bubba said slowly.
Closing my eyes, I counted to ten. Five bucks said they’d never expressed the thought in those exact words. But… it wasn’t just about what they’d said. “Jake, did you beat up Kent in sophomore year because he wanted to ask me out?”
Silence greeted my question and Archie folded his arms, but Bubba rubbed the back of his neck and grimaced. I waited. Jake sighed. “Yeah, I kicked his ass—not because he wanted to ask you out but because he was pretty sure he could tap that. You don’t date, Frankie. You don’t need some guy at school perving on you.”
Rules and Roses: Untouchable Book One Page 12