Bar Crawl(13)

Frankie nodded. “Okay, but, that aside, isn’t it presumptuous to say that they can’t keep up with the part? Of being a star.”

“They can’t. Because they’re not. At heart, as he states. They weren’t ever stars, deep in their hearts, but that’s what they tried to emulate. And they fall short. If they’d only been content with being fireflies…” I set my hands on the table, and my skin ached for hers. Inches from mine, I could feel the pull. I hadn’t held a girl’s hand since I was in high school, and that was my best friend, Georgia’s, when I walked her home one night.

“Why should anyone be content with what they are?” Frankie challenged.

“They shouldn’t, that’s the point. But they need to pay attention, and listen, to what’s in their hearts in order to fulfill a bigger purpose. You can’t force something in your heart that’s not there. Why do you think I’m in a coffee shop writing a book and not sitting in a white office somewhere sifting through code?” My skin heated as Frankie and I sat across from each other, dissecting literature.

She lifted her eyebrows. “I thought you were working on code when I walked in.”

“I lied.” I shrugged.

“Why? Why would you lie about writing? That’s hot.” Her cheeks reddened at the end of her sentence and I could tell she was biting the inside of her cheek.

I cracked a small laugh. “That’s it? That’s all I had to say to get you to go out with me all those months ago? The writer card?”

Frankie shook her head and looked down. “It wouldn’t have worked. I’d have thought you were lying. I still kind of think you’re lying. It’s not that hard to memorize and study any short poem on the off chance you like a girl who’s also a word nerd.”

I rolled my head back and growled. “Fine.” I sat forward and opened my laptop, navigating to my coveted Scrivener document. I turned the screen toward her and held my breath.

“What? This is what you’re… No. I can’t read it.” She averted her eyes.

“Why not?”

She clicked her tongue against her teeth and groaned softly. “Because…because then you can’t be the pig I’ve made you out to be in my head. And then I’d have less reasons to avoid going out with you.” She drew her lips forward, working to prevent a smile.

I laughed. “Frankie, we’ve been sort of out together three times in the last two days, including right now.”

She huffed in apparent frustration. “Those…this…doesn’t count. It’s like…a trial.”

“And I am kind of a pig.” I tried humor, but she didn’t bite.

“Everything about you has been turned inside out. Well, it’s about to be. If I read that.” She pointed to where her eyes refused to go.

“Why do you need me to be a pig so bad?”

“Ly.”

“What?”

“Bad-ly.”

I laughed. The drummer corrected my grammar. Or was it the novelist who did?. “Sorry. Why do you need me to be a pig so badly?”

“To explain why you go home with different girls all the time, I guess. I can’t figure you out, and it bothers me.”

“You can’t figure me out because you haven’t talked to me. Now we’re here talking and you’re frustrated. Just look. Don’t leave me hanging with my chest wide open; read the damn thing.” My heart pounded against my chest. I couldn’t believe I was about to show her my work in progress.

Frankie took a deep breath and lifted her eyes to the screen. “Bar Crawl,” she said as she read the title page. “Interesting.”

I watched her eyes as she scrolled to the first chapter. I felt more reckless in showing her that file than I had in all of the sexual encounters of my life strung together. Well, that might be pushing it a little, but not by much.

“Jesus,” she whispered. “Third person omniscient? I haven’t seen this style in a while, and it’s rarely pulled off this well.” I looked down to her arms and noticed they were covered with a million tiny goosebumps.

“Is it—” I was going to say okay, but she cut me off.

“This is why you spastically look around the bar all night. When you’re playing, at the bar drinking, or even having a conversation with someone. You’re always looking. These,” Frankie pointed to the screen, “these are their stories. The ones you see when you’re watching them. Aren’t they?”

I nodded, swallowing hard as I watched her eyes move over my face. Before I knew it, my computer slid out of the way and Frankie rose slightly, her eyes were wide and underscored by flushed cheeks. With her breathing sounding louder and deeper, she leaned across the table, grabbed my face, and pulled me into one hell of a kiss.

The first thing I noticed was the pressure of her hands against my cheeks. She meant this kiss. Sure, leaning across the table was one thing, but she held my face exactly where she wanted it, and I couldn’t have moved if I wanted to. And once I tasted her lips, I didn’t want to move at all. Ever again. She wasn’t wearing flavored lip gloss, which was, frankly, a relief, but she was chewing spearmint gum and, for some reason, that turned me the hell on. The bold mint infiltrated my senses right before her tongue quickly swept across my lips. I parted my lips slightly, not one to turn down a good tonguing, but she quickly pulled away—almost as fast as she’d lunged across the table. For a fraction of a second, I was left dizzy, questioning my sanity and if the kiss happened at all.