Page 17 of Kiss Me Softly

We set up the pizza box on the wooden chest that I used as a coffee table, deciding to watch something light while we ate. I loaded up season two ofModern Familyand handed Frankie a napkin. We watched two episodes in silence, eating pizza and laughing at the TV family’s antics. Finally Frankie reached for the remote, pausing the show and turning to face me.

“I suck at breakups,” she said.

“No kidding,” I said, faking shock.

She rolled her eyes.

“Anyway, I hope you meant it about being my fake girlfriend, because my mother has already sent me four texts asking about who this woman is that made me give up a woman like Barbie.”

“I can’t believe your mother thought you two were a good match in the first place.”

“I think she was getting desperate,” Frankie said. “She was running out of friends with lesbian daughters to fix me up with.”

We both burst out laughing.

“Are you okay though?” I asked.

“Yeah, it’s a relief. I’m grateful that you helped give me a push. As hard as it was breaking up with her, dating her was almost harder, you know?”

“Believe me, I know.”

“Are you still getting messages from Chris?” she asked.

About a week after we broke up Chris had taken to texting me every few days. Sometimes they begged me to give us another chance, other times they sent vitriolic attacks.

“I blocked them from my phone and email last week,” I said. “I don’t need to read messages about how terrible I am.”

“Good plan,” she said approvingly.

“So when do I meet your parents?” I asked.

She winced. “Wednesday night? Mom wants me to bring you with me when we have dinner.”

“That works. She’ll get over what happened with Barbie faster if she meets me,” I said. “Besides parents love me.”

“Doesn’t everyone?” she teased.

I met her eyes and we both froze, staring at each other for way longer than we should.

“Can I ask you something?” Frankie said softly.

“Yeah?”

“Is it true what you said before? That you think about that night?”

I knew I should say no. I knew I should keep the focus on us just being friends. But I also didn’t want to lie. I hadn’t meant to say what I’d said earlier – it just kind of came out of my mouth without my brain engaging – but I also wasn’t sorry about it.

“Yeah, it’s true,” I said. “It was – hands down -- the hottest night of my life.”

Frankie

Istared at Aurora, conflicting emotions passing through me. We’d never talked about that night, not in all the time we’d spent together since she moved to Chicago. But every time I was with her I could feel the attraction between us. It was like a living, breathing thing, growing in intensity every day.

I’d told myself I was imagining it, or maybe it wasn’t mutual. Sometimes when our hands brushed, or when I caught Aurora staring at me when she thought I wasn’t looking, I wondered what she thought. If she wanted to be more than just friends. Then I reminded myself that she was coming out of bad breakup, and I had a girlfriend.

Both of those obstacles were behind us now.

“It was the hottest night of my life too,” I said finally.

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