Page 101 of Stolen Summer

And I was right.

I found her standing in front of her bedroom closet in a white bralette and a pair of plum-colored cotton shorts that were low on her hips, just under her bandaged abdomen.

“Should you be on your feet?” I asked, drawing her gaze to the doorway.

Her face lit up, a smile curving on her lips. Frankie had the kind of smile that always looked like she was up to something—mischievous, and most of the time she was. “You’re here, thank God. Nirvana or Green Day?” she asked, holding up two baggy band T-shirts from the closet.

“Green Day,” I said, walking over to her and plucking both tees from her hand. I put the Nirvana shirt back in her closet and slipped the Green Day shirt carefully over her head.

She lifted her arms slowly, putting them into the sleeves one at a time. “Are you okay?” Frankie asked.

I blinked and glanced at her. What had she seen in my expression? I thought I put on my happy face. Sometimes it scared me how well we knew each other. I’d barely said two sentences, and she could tell something was wrong. “I should be asking you that,” I replied, the horrible cloak masking my true feelings fading.

“For the millionth time, I’m fine. I swear. It’s not me you should be worrying about. And so help me, if you blame yourself for what happened, I’ll never talk to you again.”

“I heard you the first time.”

She took cautious steps to the bed, easing onto it and only wincing once. “You need to believe it. Remember, I know how your mind works.”

Normally, I would plop face down on the bed, but I couldn’t risk hurting her. Frankie acted tough. She’d already been hurt enough. I sat on the edge of the bed, mindful of every movement I made.

Frankie wasn’t having it. “Get over here, bitch.” She tugged on my arm, pulling me toward the head of the bed beside her.

I did my best to crawl in. “I missed you.”

“Are you going to tell me what happened with you and Cole?” she asked, her foot lightly bumping mine at the end of the bed.

My lips tipped up but projected a hint of sadness. “You’re going to love this.” I gave her a quick rundown of finding out about the Cole and Crew situation and how they’d been switching roles with me. I left no detail out, confessing I’d slept with Crew but thought it was Cole. She loved the part when Cole stumbled into the room while I was straddling his brother.

My twisted friend smiled, her grayish-green eyes twinkling. “Okay, that is messed up but also kind of hot.”

I wrinkled my nose. “What’s wrong with you? I promise there was nothing sexy about finding out I’d slept with the wrong brother.”

Frankie had a different outlook. “But they’re twins. You could look at it as getting a two-for-one special.” After hearing her take, I preferred mine.

I blinked at Frankie before my straight lips cracked with a disbelieving chuckle. “God, I can always count on you to make a shitty situation less crappy.”

She looked proud of herself. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Did you know they were twins?”

Frankie shrugged, adjusting her auburn hair to one side. I got a whiff of her shampoo before she quipped, “Everyone knows.”

Pouting, I grabbed Mr. Floppy, a stuffed bunny Frankie had kept on her bed for as long as I could remember. Its fur remained soft despite showing years of love and wear. “Well, I didn’t. How could you fail to tell me that important detail?” Was it fair to put my ignorance on Frankie? No, but I relied on her for all the local town gossip, specifically when it came to the summer assholes to avoid. She was literally the gossip queen.

She shrugged, taking no offense. “Like I said. Everyone knows. I assumed you did too. But looking back, I should have realized you wouldn’t have paid attention to the talk circulating the Riley twins.”

I shared the bit about Gianna walking in on us during the grand reveal and my epic freak-out.

“Good, that psycho deserves a reality check. I’m disappointed you didn’t get to show her what happens when you mess with Arie Quinn.”

My brow lifted as I hugged Mr. Floppy. “And what exactly happens?”

Frankie twisted to the side, stretching slightly to pick up a glass off the nightstand. She winced again softly before she spoke, settling back against the bed with her drink. Judging by the color of the contents, it wasn’t just juice sloshing inside the glass. “Should we ask Stacy Brecket? She might have a first account of how ruthless you can be.”

I smirked, recalling how ten-year-old me had grabbed Stacy by one of her blonde ponytails, yanking her head back before I shoved her to the ground. “I couldn’t let her pick on my best friend.”

Frankie lifted her glass to me before taking a sip. “Only friend as I recall.”

---