Bar Crawl(17)

“Oh,” I raised my eyebrows, “you volunteer there?”

She nodded, looking at me purposefully. “The state of public libraries is shit these days. I love a good e-book, don’t get me wrong. I love that I can have over a hundred books with me all the time with my e-reader, but people aren’t using libraries nearly as much. They’re so important. They’re great places for kids and, hello, free books.” Her cheeks brightened as she spoke and I found myself leaning in a bit. “The point is, I know whatever measly wage they would pay me to work weekends won’t save the libraries across America, but I just kind of want to do my part there. For the love of words, you know?”

I’d been so wrapped in our earlier discussion about her house, and my music, that I’d almost forgotten the connection between us I couldn’t have possibly anticipated the first night she’d caught my eye.

“Yeah, the words,” I agreed, lifting my chin so our eyes met for an almost uncomfortable amount of time.

“Listen,” Frankie started, shifting in her seat and looking down for a brief second, “I know it’s still early, but do you want to stay for dinner tonight? I bought some fresh scallops yesterday that I’m dying to eat.”

“Yes,” I replied before taking a moment to consider it any further. “I’d love to stay for dinner.”





Frankie





“This really is a nice place, Frankie. Your folks must be pretty proud, huh?” CJ and I had moved from the kitchen to the living room, basking in the gorgeous late afternoon light that always graced the space.

“You’d think,” I deadpanned as I sat on the couch.

CJ sat on the other end, facing me across the empty cushion. “They’re not?”

I tilted my head from side to side. “They are. Well, my mom really is. I think she kind of basks in my accomplishments sometimes. She’s always proud of me, but I think sometimes she wishes they were her victories, you know? Anyway, she probably called fifty people the day I closed on the house. She was so braggy about it.”

CJ chuckled. “Braggy. Is that in the Oxford dictionary?”

“Should be.” I shrugged and laughed, in denial that I was joking about words with CJ. “But my dad, while proud, was a little more nervous. Women shouldn’t buy houses alone and all that.” I rolled my eyes, replaying that hours-long discussion in my brain.

“Why’s that? Is he worried about crime or something? This is Hyannis, for God’s sake.”

“Well, there’s that. But, he couldn’t fathom what I’d do if I needed to fix a leaky pipe, or God forbid a door fell off the hinges…” I trailed off, laughing to myself at the insanity of my father’s archaic thoughts. It was like he’d forgotten, in a split second, what a self-sufficient daughter he’d raised.

CJ looked around, then back to me cautiously. “What… What would you do?”

“I’d fix it, you *!” I reached across the couch and slapped his shoulder as I laughed.

He put his hands up in mock surrender. “Sorry! You’ll have to excuse me. This is by far the strangest day I’ve had with a girl. Ever.”

“Have you ever had a day with a girl?” I teased.

CJ clicked his tongue and nodded slowly, the corners of his eyes creasing as he smiled. “Fair enough. I guess I deserved that.”

A quick silence filled the room. I’d already proven I couldn’t read a single thought in his head, but I know my brain was swirling with questions. The first being what the hell we were doing chatting in my living room on a sunny afternoon having already made plans to eat dinner here?

“What?” CJ questioned, his voice turning slightly solemn. Seemed he could read my face.

“Why are you such a manwhore?” I blurted out, sounding as serious as I could. Because I was serious.

He knew I wasn’t kidding; his lips didn’t even twitch into a smile. They stayed flat as he ran his tongue across them. Not in the playful, showy way he usually did, either. “There’s no real good answer to that question, is there?”

“I guess not. I didn’t ask to trap you, though. I just…why the antics and the idiot girls—”

“Hey,” he cut in, “they’re not all idiots. In fact, most of them aren’t. They’re just out looking for a fun one night stand, and they know I’m their guy.” He shrugged and leaned deep into the overstuffed back of my couch.

“But why are you their guy?” I curled my legs to the side and rested my head against the back of the couch, meeting his eyes.

A flash of color ran across CJ’s cheeks as he forcefully rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on,” he moaned. “What do you want me to say?”

“Something real.”

His eyes shot to mine. “I’ve told you a lot of real things.”

“Good.” I shrugged. “Then you’ve had practice. Keep going.”

“You won’t believe me if I told you.” His head shook softly back and forth.

“Try me.” My heart raced in anticipation. I wondered if he could be honest with himself about his intentions—whatever they were—let alone be honest with me.

CJ smiled and leaned forward, resting a log-like forearm across the back of the couch. His fingers were inches away from my eyes, but I didn’t move. “There’s no reason.”