Bar Crawl(19)

Still, apart from Ember and, of course, Georgia, joking around with girls wasn’t something I ever did. I took women very seriously—despite how it might look from the outside. I couldn’t help it with Frankie, though. Maybe I was relieved that she was finally giving me more than a few minutes at a time to speak, but I finally felt like I had some leverage.

Now that I had it, though, I wasn’t sure what to do with it. Watching her move around the kitchen, listening to her speak, and smelling a sweet and airy fragrance from her skin as she walked by left me with this weird feeling in my chest. I don’t know why I was surprised that I seemed to be falling for her. Even from the first time I hit on her, it felt different.

“What?” Frankie said, seemingly out of nowhere.

“Hmm?” I replied, trying to cover up that I’d been lost in thought.

“You’re staring.”

“Oh,” I sighed, “I was just thinking.”

“Is that tiring for you?” She stuck out her tongue for a quick second, then went back to the frying pan.

I chuckled. “Funny. I was actually thinking about how the night I hit on you…the first time…I was hoping you’d turn me down.”

I couldn’t read her face, since she was intently cooking the scallops, but I watched her shoulders tremble against a chuckle. “Why were you hoping I’d turn you down?”

“I wanted you to be different,” I admitted.

Frankie turned off the stove and moved the pan onto an inactive burner as she slowly slid the scallops onto a plate. She wasn’t laughing anymore. “Oh?” She swallowed hard. “How so?”

I shrugged in disbelief. I couldn’t keep my damn thoughts to myself around her. “I don’t know.”

“Maybe Playboy CJ is ready for a little more than a one night stand, and that scares him?’ Her voice was the pitch of a teacher asking a student if they’d like to share their secret with the whole class. She smiled almost mischievously as she turned to the island and handed me a plate full of seared scallops and asparagus.

I shook my head. “No, that’s not it.”

“Oh.” Frankie’s lips pressed into a straight line and she seemed to avoid looking at me for a few seconds. Inside her downcast eyes, I swear I saw disappointment. She looked up with a tight smile and gestured to my plate. “Try it. Tell me how you like it.”

I wanted to correct myself, but I wasn’t sure how. I wanted to tell her that I was, in fact, looking for something more, but I couldn’t, because I didn’t know what more was. Instead, I tasted the buttery heaven of her scallops and moaned in appreciation.

“You like?” she asked hopefully, sliding a scallop into her mouth.

“Jesus,” I moaned again, “this is like food porn.”

Frankie coughed as she laughed between bites. “Always back to the sex with you, isn’t it?”

I shrugged, refusing to open my mouth any further than necessary to allow food in. It would only cause the grave to grow deeper, and I had to buy some time to figure out how to get out of the spot I’d already put myself in.

After several minutes of silence, broken only by my sounds of gratitude and satisfaction over the food, Frankie spoke up as she stared into her wine glass.

“Do you think you’re a sex addict?” she asked in what appeared to be complete seriousness.

I nearly choked on my last piece of asparagus. “Excuse me?”

“I’m serious.”

“I can tell.” I wiped my mouth and set the napkin on my plate. “But why?”

She shrugged, looking almost timid about the question. “You seem like such a nice, normal guy. I mean, college and the computer degree. You’ve got money and a successful band career, and you don’t appear to do drugs or be an alcoholic. But…the women. There is always a woman on your arm. Typically a different one. I’m willing to bet there’s a well-worn walk-of-shame path from your door to nearly every bar parking lot on the Cape.”

My eyes must have bugged out several inches, because she instantly covered her moth.

“Shit!” she yelled into her hand. “I’m not usually this rude. I promise. I don’t even swear this much. Ever. I’m a teacher for … Jesus…” She stood, taking our plates with her to the sink. After dropping them in the basin, she stood with her hands on the edge of the counter. She titled her chin down and took a deep breath.

Leaving my seat, I walked over to meet her and placed my hand in the middle of her lower back. I’d been meaning to do that. “Don’t be sorry. You’re right, you know. Until today, you’ve only seen that one side of me. I can’t be mad at you for drawing painfully obvious conclusions, can I?”

“Why are you showing me the other side? The writer side. The articulate side. Especially…” Frankie looked up at me as she trailed off, seeming to consider if she wanted to continue her thought.

“Especially what?” I refrained from kissing her again, like I so badly wanted to. I wanted to listen to what she had to say.

“If you don’t want a girlfriend.” Frankie chewed her lip as she brought up my insinuation from earlier that a girlfriend was the last thing I wanted. “People only share things they usually try to hide with their friends or significant others. Do you want to be friends with me? Is that what…all this…is about?”