Page 33 of Vicious Games

“Did you just sayget?What am I, a dog?”

“You are named after one.” She smiles.

See? A menace.

“Fine, I’ll leave. But I’m counting today’s tutoring session toward my community service hours.”

“Fine. Try it. See how fast I tell Mother Superior you were a no-show.”

“But Ididshow up.”

“Late.”

“Fine! Whatever! God, you’re—”

“I’m what?” she interrupts, her smirk downright evil. “Insufferable?”

I grit my teeth. “I was gonna say aggravating.”

“Ha!” She grins wider. “So you did get that thesaurus after all.”

“Frankie,” I warn, my patience hanging by a damn thread.

“What?” She steps closer, pressing her chest to mine so I can feel every inch of her against my abs.

Yeah,abs,because Frankie is short ashellcompared to me. But as she cranes her neck back to glare at me, I get caught on her lips—full, cherry pink, way too distracting.

And to my shame, she catches me staring.

We both quickly step back at the same time.

“I’m gonna go,” I say, jerking my thumb toward the door.

“Good.” She clears her throat. “You do that.”

I turn, ready to leave, but at the last second, I spin back around.

“Give me your phone,” I order.

“Why?” She narrows her eyes.

“Jesus, Frankie, does everything have to be a war with you?”

“Do you always have to rise to the occasion?”

Fair. Idodo that. But it’s because she’s so goddamn infuriating.

“Just give me your phone so I can drop my number and get yours.”

“Why the hell would I want your number?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” I shrug. “So you can call me an ass when it suits you?” I exhale. “I just want your number so that if I’m ever running late, I can give you a heads-up.”

“Or… you could just not be late. Problem solved.”

“You’re really not gonna give me your number, are you?”

She shakes her head.

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