Page 39 of Stolen Summer

“Shit,” I mumbled, settling in to scroll through them all. I also needed to call the diner and let Ann know what happened.

Other than Dad, most of the texts were from Frankie.

Frankie:

Holy shit this storm is nasty. Text me when you get home.

Hello? Don’t tell me you’re still at work.

The first string of messages was all from right before I’d left to go to Cole’s. I hadn’t checked my phone before I left. As I kept reading, they quickly got more intense.

Frankie:

Bitch, text me back.

Okay, now you’re scaring me.

Are you mad at me? Did I do something wrong?

It’s been two days, Arie. WTF. We never go this long without talking.

When I got to the end of her long trail of messages, sadness squeezed my throat. The idea she thought I deliberately wasn’t talking to her hurt. Skipping all other notifications, I immediately called her.

The phone rang, and with each ring, my worry spiked. Come on, pick up. She could still be sleeping, depending on how late of a night she had or if she’d been working at Club Eden. Frankie bartended, and it suited her.

“What the hell, bitch,” she answered the phone, her voice raspy as if I’d roused her from bed.

I dropped the phone on the pillow next to me and exhaled. “As my best friend, you should know that if I was pissed at you I would tell you to your face.”

“Then where have you been? Why did you ignore me?” Her voice came through the speaker clearer, less sleepy.

“You’re not going to believe this,” I said.

“Intrigued.” Through the phone, I heard her sheets rustle as she shifted. “Did you get kidnapped by a hot alien who took you to his ice planet and now your mates?”

“Fuck, Frankie. Stop reading so many smut books.” The towel on my head started to give me a headache, so I unraveled it, tossing the damp terry cloth to my bedroom floor.

“A girl can dream,” she said.

Leaning over the side of my bed, I opened my nightstand drawer and pulled out a brush. “And that makes me question your dreams. Who fantasizes about being abducted?”

“You’d be surprised. Try it sometime.”

“I’d rather not.” But then I thought about my two days shut in next door with Cole. He wasn’t an alien, but he did meet the hot quota. I almost thought about not telling Frankie because she would romanticize every second of my confinement.

But as my best friend, I couldn’t keep anything from her. If I didn’t tell her, I’d go crazy. I needed someone to tell me the deal Cole proposed was absurd, or that I’d be a fool to pass it up. Frankie wouldn’t hold back, and knowing my best friend, I had an inkling which way her vote would swing.

Rolling over, I sat up on my bed and began the tedious job of brushing out my hair. It had grown over the last few months and needed a trim. Plus, the dark-blue pieces could use a fresh color. “The whole forced proximity thing isn’t for me. I just spent two days locked up with Cole Riley.”

“Cole Riley?” she echoed loudly, suddenly alert and very awake. “Like your rich, fine as fuck neighbor?” I could picture her bolting straight up in bed, auburn hair messy and green eyes wide.

Christ, her voice projected. I hit the volume button on my phone a few times, turning it down. “The one and the same,” I mumbled, returning to work on the tangles of hair.

“Holy. Shit. Arie. Tell me everything. Don’t leave out a single detail, especially not how big his dick is.”

Unlike Dad and Sadie, Frankie’s first concern wasn’t my well-being. It was whether I got laid. “Jesus, Frankie. Why do you assume I slept with him?”

“Uh, why wouldn’t you take advantage of having Cole Riley alone?” she asked as if there was no alternative, and maybe in her head, there wasn’t. “I can’t think of a single girl in Fallen Oaks who wouldn’t.”

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