Page 89 of Puck Your Friend
She glances back at the sea bass, then reaches for her fork. Her shoulders ease, some of that early tension dropping off as she angles toward the table.
I pick up my fork. “Figured you deserved more than takeout.”
Her eyelashes flutter as she glances up at me. “You didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”
I shake my head and grab her gaze, making sure she doesn’t look away. “Listen to me. Nothing is too much effort when it’s for you, Kie.”
Her eyes darken with lust. It’s brief, but weighted. Then she takes a bite of the bass. Her lips part and she raises her hand to cover her mouth as she chews. Her eyes widen.“Oh, that’s good!”
I do the same. The fish melts on my tongue. “At least they didn’t cheap out just because the rooftop’s the draw.”
Frankie hums after a bite of the fish. Her face stays steady, but something eases in her chest.
She leans back in the chair, legs crossed at the knee, wine glass balanced in her hand. Her foot taps a rhythm against the pavers. She glances over. “Do you remember the canoe dare?” She runs her thumb along the rim of her glass.
Taking another bite of sea bass, I swallow, and nod. “The one where you made Jace strip down and paddle out in his boxers?”
She snorts. “He called me a coward. Said I wouldn’t climb the lifeguard tower. He deserved it.”
My fork lifts in her direction as I grin. “You bribed the dock girl with sour gummies to unlock the paddles.”
She sits up straighter, chin tilting just enough to look smug. “And she did. Because unlike you guys, I’m always prepared.”
The laugh that shakes out of me settles low.
Frankie tears a piece of flatbread and swirls it through the lemon-caper oil left from the sea bass. Her smile falls as her gaze turns distant. “Things are so different from how I pictured it as a kid. I thought I’d be coaching by now. Women’s league. Something low-key, but steady.”
My fork hits the plate with a soft tap as I ease back in my chair. “You still could. You could’ve been the first Omega to hold the line and keep playing.”
She shrugs. “I used to want that life. But it would’ve meant background checks, public rosters, no privacy. This path let me stay in the shadows.”
I sip from my glass, eyes following the way candlelight traces along her jaw. “I always thought you’d take over the world. You wanting to hide didn’t cross my mind.”
She looks away, then back. “It wasn’t the plan. But sometimes the plan gets rewritten.”
We go quiet for a few beats. The city buzzes below, but it feels a world away. The iron legs of her chair scrape softly as she shifts closer. Her foot brushes mine under the table.
The way the light hits her pulls me up short. Her skin has a warm, olive tone that deepens in the glow. A few curls have slipped loose, framing her face in soft ringlets.
I want to reach out and touch one.
I clear my throat. “You look good in candlelight.”
Frankie catches me staring and rolls her eyes. “It’s the wine talking.”
My glass balances on my knee. “No. It’s you.”
There’s a flicker in her expression, something between disbelief and wanting to believe. She reaches for another bite of potato.
I keep my eyes on her mouth. She’s wearing peach lipstick tonight. Her full lower lip begs to be caught between my teeth while she moans from my fingers, making her come all over them. It pulls my gaze every time she speaks.
She doesn’t miss the look. “If you keep staring like that, you’re gonna make dessert awkward.”
My head tilts, a smile tugging at the edge of my mouth. “Not if we skip dessert.”
She arches a brow and fights a smile from tugging at her lips. “So that’s the play? Get me nostalgic, feed me carbs, then make your move?”
I bring my glass up to hide my smile behind the rim. “Is it working?”
