Page 63 of Unwanted

It feels like déjà vu when we stop in the middle of the sidewalk, his eyes incredulous. “He did what?”

I pull my cell out of my pocket, find the text, and show it to Frankie. “Is he serious?” He stabs his fingers through his hair, exasperated. “That’ll be the last time I tell him anything.”

“Is there anything you want to tell me?” I ask, prodding for an explanation.

Sighing, Frankie points to his rental car. “Can we at least go and eat before I embarrassingly spill my guts to you?”

Satisfied with his response, and more than pleased that this time he and I aren’t having a screaming match in public, I walk to the passenger side just as Frankie pulls out his key fob and unlocks the car.

We both climb in, and it takes just under fifteen minutes for us to arrive, park, and be seated.

“So if you’ve heard they’re amazing, why haven’t you been here before?” Frankie asks me.

“Unless Clem, Remy, or Lennox make me, I don’t go out much,” I explain. “My days pretty much just consist of home and work.”

He frowns at me, and I can’t quite put my finger on the look in his eyes. Is it pity? Sadness, maybe?

“Don’t look at me like that,” I admonish, feeling a little self-conscious. “I enjoy my routine.”

He tries to school his features. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to.” I pluck up the menu off the table and scan the items. “It’s probably different from the high life you were living in Seattle, but my simple routine works for me.”

There was no hiding the snarkiness in my voice, and in the name of being honest with one another, I didn’t let myself feel too guilty about it.

We were living two different lives and the details of both of them were rising to the surface.

It’s what we wanted. To know what the other had missed. To know the people we were right now, the people we grew up to be.

Frankie snatches the menu out of my fingers and glances down at it, avoiding my eyes. “What exactly do you think it is I do in Seattle?” he asks.

“I don’t know.” I scan our surroundings, trying to look nonchalant, like the words we’re swinging at one another are insignificant. “You haven’t told me much, but from what you have, I know you didn’t have any trouble keeping your bed warm most nights.”

“Are you jealous, Arlo?” he taunts.

Slowly, I shift my attention back to Frankie, holding his stare. “Always,” I confess. “Always have been and always will be.”

Licking his lips, Frankie drops the menu onto the table and leans forward, and I find myself copying the movement. His voice is low in the loud space, but I don’t miss a word. “Don’t be. I thought of nothing but you. Every. Single. Time.”

It turns out the truth turned me on. A lot.

I was wound tight, and I wanted Frankie to be the one to loosen me up.

“Hi, my name is Mara and I’ll be your server today. Are you both ready to order?” The unexpected interruption is the unwelcome reminder that we’re in public and we both need to table our very inappropriate thoughts for a later time.

Clearing my throat, I reluctantly peel my eyes away from Frankie’s and sit back. Picking up the menu, I rattle off the first thing my eyes land on. “I’ll have the Double Cali and some loaded fries, please.”

The server quickly enters it into her tablet and then turns to Frankie.

His eyes don’t leave mine as he answers, the heat between us now turned down to a simmer but still palpable. “I’ll have the same, thank you.”

Oblivious to the moment between us, Mara adds in our drink order and then turns on her toes back to the kitchen.

The tension immediately returns the second we’re alone, and I try to tamp down the constant need that expands inside my chest whenever I’m around him.

“So, are you going to ask me?” I say, breaking the silence.

He resumes his original position, leaning on his forearms. “Ask you what?”

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