Mack Daddy(39)

She closed her eyes momentarily then said, “I need to get laid.”

Her comment had come out of left field. But she was drunk, so it shouldn’t have surprised me. Still, hearing her say that physically hurt. Maybe she’d done it intentionally to test my reaction because she knew I was confused, but in any case, it f*cking stung. I guess that was a normal thing for a chick to admit to her “friend.” The problem was, I didn’t see myself as only that anymore. But she had every right to want something more. She also had no clue just how much things had changed for me when it came to her, because I hadn’t told her.

I took a sip of my beer and changed the subject, opting not to want to delve further into Frankie’s quest to be f*cked by someone other than me.

“When are you gonna look at your tattoo?”

She shouted through the music, “I don’t know. I’m still liking the excitement of not knowing what it is.”

“You’re nuts. That curiosity would be killing me.”

“Good call on not letting me tattoo you, by the way.”

“Why’s that?”

“I was gonna choose one that said Porn Star.”

“I’d own that,” I joked.

Poking my finger into her rib playfully, I tickled her in response. Then, I took her by the hand and dragged her over to the dance floor.

After a couple more drinks, you could pretty much say my inhibitions were gone. Even though I knew I couldn’t take things past a certain point, I was enjoying the close contact way too much. My dick was straining through my jeans as we danced close. I had no clue if she could feel it against her. The hint of alcohol on her breath mixed with the sweet smell of her body was driving me absolutely insane. My conscience remained the one roadblock. But Lord knows, I wanted to suck every drop of alcohol off her tongue.

I didn’t want to leave her alone, but I was going to piss my pants. I spoke in her ear, “Are you gonna be okay if I go the bathroom?”

She nodded, and I left her on the dance floor despite my reservations. Weaving through the crowd, I headed toward the bathroom. After taking an extremely long leak, I checked my phone and saw that there were a few missed calls from Torrie.

The thought of talking to her right now while I was sporting a hard-on because of another woman made me ill. Guilt was consuming me, because what I needed to do when I got back to D.C. was becoming clearer by the minute.

My constant pining over the girl who’d become my best friend wasn’t fair to my actual girlfriend. Torrie and I had a long history, and I cared about her very much—enough to not want to cheat on her despite these intense urges. Not to mention, Frankie deserved way better than to be caught in this limbo. I knew I had to end things with Torrie before taking things any further with Frankie. Making it through tonight without f*cking up was going to be the challenge. But I had never cheated on anyone before and didn’t want to start now.

Any remaining trace of normalcy to the evening ended the minute I made my way back to the dance floor.

A guy with sweat seeping through his white dress shirt was behind Frankie, grinding against her ass. She was wasted. I shouldn’t have let her drink that much, and I most definitely shouldn’t have left her alone for even a second.

The worst part? Her f*cking glasses were gone. Given that she couldn’t see shit without them, this was obviously a huge problem.

I wanted to kill the guy for taking advantage of her. “Get the f*ck off of her,” I said, pulling Frankie away from him.

“What happened to your glasses?”

“They fell. I can’t find them.”

A few seconds later, I felt pieces of plastic under my shoe. Her signature purple glasses had been crushed to smithereens.

Great.

Even though I knew she had a few spare pairs at home, those had to have cost a fortune, not to mention I would have to somehow lead her home blind.

“We’d better go,” I said, guiding her off the dance floor.

She could hardly walk. I had no clue that she really couldn’t handle her alcohol. We’d each drank about the same, but clearly my threshold was a lot higher. I felt guilty for not taking better care of her.

“Why were you letting that guy rub himself on you like that?”

“My back was turned. I thought he was you.”

Well, shit. I didn’t know if that made me happy or sick.

Frankie was practically tripping over her own feet. We didn’t live far from the club, so I opted to just walk back to the apartment. We’d be able to get home faster than a cab would arrive anyway.

Since her legs were so wobbly, I decided to carry her home. Her arms were wrapped around my neck and as we made our way toward Kenmore Square. It must have rained while we were in the club because cars that were driving into puddles splashed us from time to time.

Frankie was quiet for a while during our walk until she suddenly spoke. “Don’t come back.”

“What?”

“I can’t live with you anymore.”

“Why are you saying that?”

Trashed or not, her bluntness shocked me.

“It hurts,” she said.

“What hurts?”

“Knowing that I can’t ever have you. You’ll never break up with her. You’re just biding your time here.”

She may have been drunk as a f*cking skunk, but I knew that the words pouring out of her were the absolute truth.