Page 12 of Mystic Wonderful

She arched her brows in what counted as a suggestive face for her.

His blush deepened. “And then he – he was like ‘you still can’t get out of a hold,’ and I can’t, not matching strength for strength. And I just – there have been some – some looks, I think. And some times when he almost…? And so I kinda, like –leanedback into him. Like right in his–”

“Frankie.” She set her fork down. “Were you grinding on his dick?”

Francis groaned. “Yeah. Yeah, I was.”

Rose looked to be working hard to suppress a smile: a sight so rare that Francis thought his mortification was worth it. She composed herself, and said, her tone mild, “Is he hung?”

Francis burst into helpless, embarrassed, pained laughter, and Rose chuckled in response, her smile finally breaking like the dawn. It was lovely. “I can’t believe I did that. What a fucking idiot.”

She shrugged. “Eh. Not the dumbest thing you’ve ever done.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“You befriendedme. Doesn’t get worse than that.”

“Rose–”

Her expression went serious again, a neat closing-off, single groove of concern marking her brow. “How did he react?”

It was nice to see her smile, but right now, he needed No-Nonsense Rose to set his mind at ease. “Well, that’s just it: I’m not sure.” He explained Tris’sscrambling, and his pale face, and his silently working lips, his eventual retreat, as best he could, trying not to convey his own readings on the situation.

Her brows lifted in surprise. “He didn’t sayanything?”

“Nothing.” He fidgeted with his fork, rolled a meatball along the gluey noodles. “I was sure he’d yell at me. That he would be mad that I’d – made advances.” The last he choked out. “I mean there’s no way he…”

“Okay, don’t make assumptions about that sort of thing,” she said, sagely. “Tris is a very stern person, and it would be just like that type of man to stuff down and hide any finer feelings.”

Relief hovered at the edges of his worry. “You think?”

“I do.” She was frowning, though. “But I only know the type – I don’t know Tris specifically. So I don’t think you should go making any assumptions.”

He deflated. “I’m assuming he hates my guts.”

“I’m not. But. Frank…”

“I know, I know, I shouldn’t get my hopes up.”

Her smile was fleeting and rueful. “You’re really sweet–”

“Oh no.”

“You are–”

“Please don’t be soothing. It’s unnatural on you.”

That earned another grin.

“And don’t pity me, either. Please. I know, and have known all along, that nothing would ever come of working with him. Iknow,” he stressed, when she cocked a brow. “It’s a crush. I’m not a pining idiot, okay? And fraternizing may be legal these days, but it wouldn’t be helpful.” He hitched up straighter in his chair. “We’ve got a mission. I won’t get distracted.”

She saluted him with her fork. “I never doubted.”

Still, it was nice to hear.

“But I think I need to talk to him. Clear stuff up. Make sure he knows I’m not…you think it’s a bad idea?”

She shrugged. “It’s up to you. Just…be careful, okay?”

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