I was the closest I’d ever come to it. Fortunately for me, Sharon stopped talking even if she kept giving me a death stare. Why I ever touched her, I had no idea. She’d never been less attractive.
After exhaling a careful breath, I said in the most even tone I could manage. "You don't know what you're talking about, Sharon. Frankie is one of the kindest, most genuine people I know. She's not playing games. That’s your thing, not hers.”
Sharon rolled her eyes, her expression dismissive. "Whatever. She’s never wanted you. Too bad you can’t see it.”
With that, she turned and walked out of the garage, but paused as she stepped into the sunlight and slid her sunglasses on. Then she twisted to look back at me.
“You know, one of my favorite parts of the summer was when we played musical chairs…” She ran her tongue over her lower lip. “You remember, our little version of spin the bottle.”
My gut tightened, a sour taste in my mouth. “Can’t really say it stood out for me.”
Her mouth went to a flat little line. “Then it’s a good thing I have pictures and some video… you know, mementos.”
Pictures—
“See you soon, Bubba.” Then she strode away.
I forced the hand that had been curled into a fist to flatten on the bike’s seat. Pictures. Video.
The relief trickling through me at her absence was poisoned with dread by those last words. I dug my phone out of my pocket and sent a message to the group chat.
Me:At any point over the summer, were we stupid and let the girls film us?
I couldn’t get blunter than that. One of them had to know. I didn’t remember any but, some of those nights, I didn’t remember much beyond alcohol, a warm body, and some release. Not a good look for me. Not really.
Setting the phone aside, I got back to working on the bike. The unsettled feeling in the pit of my stomach wouldn’t go away. We were making progress with Frankie. I was—I’d told her I wanted to date. Even if she kept seeing the French guy. If she wanted to date the other guys, just let me have a shot.
Don’t limit herself.
She didn’t actually answer me on that, though, did she? No, she asked for all of us to take her to Homecoming. Was this really a date if all four of us were taking Frankie? Had we turned the potential date into a friend outing? What did that even mean? How do we make sure we’re all included, valued, and get time with her if there’s four of us?
Archie was no slouch. He was taking care of the car and he’d pour on the money and the charm. The minute he saw an opening, he’d wedge himself in there. That was who he was.
Jake already shot himself in the damn foot, but maybe he could fix it. If nothing else, he’d be in “make peace” mode so that potentially dialed down any violence.
Coop?
No, Coop wasn’t going anywhere and he’d kissed her. They’d let that slip. He’d kissed her, but he wasn’t bragging about it or using it to score points. He was just…
All of this was uncharted territory. I wanted Frankie. I’d always wanted her. The girls, the others, they were barely pale imitations, but my taste in blondes definitely came from Frankie.
My phone buzzed and wiped my fingers off with the cloth before snagging it. The heat out here was already dialing up to sultry. Sweat had my tank sticking to me.
The notification wasn’t from the guys. It was from Post-it-gram, the current go to social media platform.
Sharon.
I hit the reel that had tagged me.
Tagged all of us.
Son of a bitch…
They had filmed it.
Chapter
Thirty-Nine
