by Holly Hood
“I’m a selfish prick,” Frankie announced to them both. They stared at him in awe.
“We see that,” the blonde said, shaking her head, her long blonde hair dancing around her arms. She was a great looking girl Frankie admitted, but he was more drawn to her friend.
“I’m selfish and an asshole one hundred percent of the time. But then I think that’s what most girls are drawn to so why should I change,” he rambled, tipping back his beer.
“Probably the reasons you’re not interested in love,” the blonde said. “I’m Regan by the way.” She extended her hand. Frankie didn’t accept, he held tight to the beer not wanting to make contact. He wasn’t in the mood to waste his energy on ending this girl tonight. She quickly returned her hand to the countertop, letting out a huff.
“See, why would you do that?” Frankie asked. He was a lot drunker then he thought he was. “I tell you I’m no good and you extend yourself to me.”
The other girl, the one catching Frankie’s eye time and time again, stared at her friend, a giant smirk erupting on her face. She found this guy funny, funnier than anyone else in the bar. He wasn’t trying to pick them up, he was eagerly creating conversation. And she was intrigued.
“That’s because Regan doesn’t know when to shut up,” she pointed out, “I’m Dylan.”
Frankie raised an eyebrow. “Dylan is a boy’s name. Why would your parents do that to you?” Even her name was interesting.
She shoved her dark hair behind her ear, shooting him an exasperated expression. “They were pretty confident that I could handle it.” She had heard all the insults before in her life. But she liked her name and she liked that her parents were willing to live on the edge and do something bold. She liked bold.
“I see that,” Frankie responded. He took a quick look at her drink. “You can handle Jack Daniels too huh?”
Dylan dropped her gaze, her fingers tinkering with the shot glass. She was going to show him. She picked it up, dropping her head back, her eyes squeezing tightly shut in response to the liquor coursing down the back of her throat.
“Nice. A girl who can hang with the boys,” Frankie said, watching her pull it together. She smoothed her hair, slamming the shot down on the table. “What else can you do?”
Dylan’s friend Regan checked the time. She grabbed her coat from the back of her chair. “It’s late. I need to get home.” Dylan didn’t move. Her gaze was glued on Frankie. “Are you coming back to campus or you sticking around here with the prick?”
Dylan pointed a finger in Frankie’s direction. “What’s your name prick?”
Frankie smirked. “Frankie. But feel free to call me either one.”
Regan collected her things and shot her friend a disappointed look at her choice in sticking around with a character such as Frankie. But she left her there because she was an adult and could make her own decisions.
Frankie scooted over, his arms atop the bar counter. He looked at her, a big grin on his face.
Dylan leaned into him. “Shall we get another shot of jack?”
Frankie studied her features, really debating on getting anymore drunk then he already was. “Sure, what could it hurt?”
“Absolutely nothing, “Dylan replied, watching him drop several bills on the counter for her to order more drinks for the two of them.
***
Delaney snapped her purse shut. She was in a hurry to pick up Rose and take her to the airport. Sadly it was the end of Rose’s extended visit. And she was flying back home. She assured Delaney that she would be back in six months. The length of time before Delaney’s wedding.
Sam snuck up behind Delaney, wrapping his arms around her. He breathed her flowery scent in with great appreciation. “Where you heading out to so early this morning?” Sam nuzzled her neck, kissing her tenderly.
Delaney wished she could stay in bed all day with him. But she had school and a dinner with her parents to think about for the rest of the day. She wasn’t as fortunate as Vance. He came from a family of money. She wasn’t quite sure the logistics of it all, but he had explained the family business had been gifted to him when one of his great uncles died, leaving him with an endless bounty of cash, and plenty of free time.
“I am taking Rose to the airport. Did you want to come along? We could stop at that little restaurant you love and share breakfast before my classes.” She hurriedly gathered all her things leaving Sam without much room to wiggle his way out of it.
“Yeah, but I’m not even dressed. I don’t want to make you run late,” he said, trying to come up with an excuse. Delaney lifted the bottom of his shirt, running her hands up his abdomen. She pecked his lips, being careful not to go overboard. After the last unpleasant incident she wasn’t going to push him. She told herself it was only six months and then she could have what she wanted. Sex.
“I like you in anything that you wear.” She smiled, their noses touching. Sam kissed her forehead.
“You do. But I highly doubt the staff at that place will be okay with my attire.” He waited for her to say goodbye and be off. But she wasn’t budging. “Let me change.”
Delaney smiled, happy to have his company. She crossed her arms, diving into all the big things she had to get done before the wedding while she waited for him to dress.
***
Frankie rolled over in bed, stunned to find Dylan staring at him—in his bed of all places. He shot up. “How did you get here?” And why didn’t he remember?
She laughed, rolling onto her stomach, holding herself up by her elbows. “You invited me remember?”
He didn’t remember a thing. The last thing he recalled was the conversation of love, and the agreement to take shots of Jack Daniels with her. “Did you roofie me?” And why aren’t you dead?
“I did not roofie you.” Dylan stood up, wearing nothing but her undershirt and panties. Frankie checked her out as she bounced around his apartment, opening the blinds, straightening up his coffee table, really making herself at home. She lifted an odd statuette from his end table studying it closely.
“Well, that’s good to know,” Frankie said, letting out a loud yawn. His head was killing him. He threw back the covers, staring down at his naked body, confusion starting to creep into his mind. How was he naked and she was still stalking around no problem? He stood, throwing a pillow over his lower region. “Hey, you didn’t happen to see where I put my pants did you?”
Dylan barely paid him any mind as she flipped through his photo albums. This was not how Frankie wanted his morning to start. “I think you took them off in your bathroom last night.”
Frankie shook his head, dropping the pillow and heading for his bathroom. This was his house he wasn’t going to act all prim and proper for anyone. Besides, he woke up in bed naked with the girl. She had seen it all already.
Dylan grinned, watching his rear vanish behind the bathroom door. She thought he was absolutely gorgeous and a whole lot of fun. She wondered into his tiny kitchen opening each cupboard looking for coffee of any kind.
“Instant, yuck,” she said, scouring the rest of the cupboards for an electric coffee pot or even a coffee mug. If she was going to fight the approaching hangover she needed her caffeine. She was a professional binge drinker most nights, but she knew the drill, if she didn’t have her coffee she was going to be paying for it really soon.
“The coffee pot is underneath my sink. If that’s what you’re looking for,” Frankie said, appearing behind her in a pair of sweats. She couldn’t judge whether or not he was feeling like crap. But judging by the amount of shots he consumed, she was convinced he felt like death or close to it.
“Thanks, you’re a life saver,” Dylan said, quickly putting it together, Frankie handing over all the needed items as she hurried along.
“That’s a new one,” Frankie said, watching her on her tip toes trying to figure out his pricey coffee maker. He enjoyed the flex of her calves as she did her best to reduce the headache about to creep up on her.
“Oh. I
f you’re wondering if we had sex, we didn’t,” she said, looking over her shoulder at him. “You were an absolute gentleman.”
“That’s a new one,” Frankie said again, leaning against his counter. “I know we didn’t. I wasn’t worried about it.”
Dylan laughed, amused by his statement. She snapped the lid shut. “You know we didn’t? How would you know that? Maybe we did and I am just covering it up because you weren’t good at it.”
Frankie moved in front of her, staring her down. His arms crossed so no contact could be made between them. Dylan tilted her head, staring him down as if they were playing a game of chicken. “Believe me, if we did, I would know. And I am very good at it, just so you know.”
The air was filled with sexual tension. The sound of the percolating coffee behind them was the only thing filling the room at the moment. Dylan swallowed down her nerves. She really wanted to kiss him. She had wanted to all night. But Frankie told her in many drunken words that he was tired of relationships of any kind, and something about love. It was hard to make sense of his rants. But she stuck around and listened because he was fun to talk to.
“I want to kiss you,” she said, self-assured and not embarrassed to admit it. Frankie’s eyes fluttered, proving she had taken him by surprise. She liked this. She blinked, smiling effortlessly at the expression on his face. He brought a hand to his mouth, running his hand across his five o’clock shadow.
“I just woke up,” he said, staying totally motionless trying to call her bluff.
“Is that a rule? Do you have a rule that you can’t kiss people in the morning?” She bit her lip, drawing it inward. She helped herself, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Will you please just let us kiss and get this over with?”
Frankie scanned her eyes. “I don’t ask for things. I take them.”
Dylan smiled, understanding the game he was playing. She pulled him close. Showing him she wasn’t afraid to take what she wanted. She planted her lips against his, running her fingers through the back of his hair. An unhurried supple kiss, little by little turned into a quicker more erotic one between them, one that set her skin on fire with ecstasy. Her fingers trembled as they met up with Frankie’s face, she pulled away, studying Frankie as if she wanted to ask him something but didn’t know how to form the words.
Frankie stared into her intoxicated eyes. Intoxicated with something she was completely ignorant of. He guided her by the chin back to his lips enjoying the feel of her lips too much to heed his internal warning. They crashed into the counter. Frankie lifted her helping her take her shirt off. He groped her breast, repeatedly kissing her, shoving the coffee pot out of the way, ready for the next step.
Dylan broke their lip lock, letting out a panicked gasp. “What is going on?” She lifted her head, allowing Frankie access to her neck. “You’re intoxicating.”
“So are you. It’s uncanny.” He grabbed hold of her panties ready to tear them into shreds to get to her faster, her skin stimulating every inch of him. Dylan wrapped her legs around his waist pulling him closer.
Frankie smiled at her unique talent of using her feet to take down his pants.
“Do you want to go in my bedroom?” Frankie asked—out of breath—in between kisses.
Dylan shook her head, taking hold of his back, begging for him to just put her out of her misery and give her what she wanted—more than life at the moment. Her whole body was dying for Frankie. Like he was some insatiable drug that she just realized she couldn’t live without. “What are you doing?”
Frankie pulled away. “I don’t know that we should do this.” He cursed himself. What was he doing? He knew he should be doing this. He wanted to do this. Parts of him would hate him if he didn’t do this. He touched her stomach, caressing his fingers against the skin, his body hurting.
Dylan’s worried expression made him mad. He wasn’t Sam. He could do this. It didn’t matter to him this girl was special. He told himself it didn’t matter as he took hold of her legs and entered her, pulling her to him. She dropped her head back, enjoying the moment. Frankie watched her, warily trying to control himself as he lifted her from the counter, her body going to work all on its own, she held tight to his neck as her back met the kitchen floor. Frankie kept up with Dylan until he knew she was satisfied. And then he quickly stopped, pulling away and standing up, afraid to look at her again.
“That was amazing,” She gushed from below. Frankie winced, not expecting to hear her say anything at all.
“Your okay?” he asked. Dylan sat up, a look of misunderstanding on her face.
“Of course I’m okay. I feel better than ever. You don’t look happy. Do you want me to help you out?” She reached for him, but he pulled away. “Are you alright?”
Frankie studied her very closely, pushing her long hair away from her eyes, really looking into her eyes. To Dylan she probably thought he was being gentle and worried. But he was merely trying to figure out why she hadn’t dropped dead. He kissed her lips, pulling away and watching yet again for some sort of effect. Dylan smiled, kissing him back, unaware of Frankie’s distress.
“Let’s go into your bedroom,” she coaxed, taking his hand.
Frankie followed behind her still uncertain.
A promise
Sam anxiously sat in the car while Delaney went to get Rose from her hotel room. He tapped his fingers quickly against the steering wheel. This was hard for him. Being so near Rose knowing what he did was hard. He feared she would come clean and tell Delaney everything. And when he started thinking about all of this he was slowly sliding back into the feeling of doom. The one he had forgot about until the mention of Rose.
His eyes wandered the length of the parking lot for Delaney and Rose. But when he only saw Rose his stomach knotted as he watched her hurriedly approaching. Sam let out a sigh that only he was aware of as he watched her rush to his car. He hit the locks, allowing her admission. She climbed in the front seat.
“Delaney needed to fax something. The lobby has a fax machine, so I told her to go ahead and do it while she was here.” Rose explained, keeping her gaze forward. She didn’t want to lay eyes on Sam.
Sam was uncertain what to say to her. He released the steering wheel, resting his hands in his lap.
“Why did you do it?” Rose blurted.
Sam stared at Rose in puzzlement. “I don’t know what you mean.” He did, but he wasn’t sure if any normal girl would question the attacker’s motives. Or even be courageous enough to be sitting next to him alone again.
Rose took a deep breath and forced herself to look at Sam. She could see it in his eyes. He didn’t want to talk to her about any of this. But she had to know. She told herself that maybe she would be able to sleep better at night knowing why Sam tried to kill her.
Maybe a reason from Sam would be enough to feel better about holding in such a fatal secret from her best friend as well.
“Say something,” Rose pushed, looking to the hotel doors for any sign of Delaney.
Sam swallowed. “I don’t know. I have no idea what was going on in my mind that day.”
“Something had to of been for you to want to kill me, Sam. You thought you killed me. The second you saw me at the party I knew you thought you killed me. Why would you want to kill me, Sam?” Rose felt an eerie amount of dread scorching her conscious. She felt a bit dizzy like the world was about to cave in.
“I don’t know. I just told you I don’t know. I wasn’t in my right mind. I was angry. Not at you, I was just angry.” Sam’s breathing quickened. “I am sorry, Rose. I can imagine what I’ve done to you. But what could I possibly do or say that is going to fix anything?” He really wanted to know. If he knew, maybe things could be different for both of them.
Rose let out a laugh, but not one of amusement. “Say you won’t marry her.”
“No,” Sam said without delay. He shifted in his seat, taking hold of the steering wheel again, angry that Rose would suggest such a thing.
“You co
uld hurt her like you hurt me.”
“I would never hurt her. And I am not going to call things off because of this. I am not the same person,” Sam told her, shooting her a look of resentment which he regretted right away. It wasn’t helping him prove his point.
“Then what is wrong with me? Why would you want to hurt me but not her?” Rose asked shooting another rushed looked at the doors. “Tell me what I did wrong. Tell me so I can help Rose, Sam.”
Sam pounded his fist on the dashboard, taking hold of Rose’s arm. He squeezed her flesh, anger pumping his heart quicker and quicker as he stared into her frightened and traumatized eyes. “This is not about you or me. I don’t know why I did what I did. It wasn’t you. I just wish you would get it through your head that I would never hurt Delaney. And leave it alone.” He released Rose’s arm at the sight of Delaney exiting the lobby.