Page 2 of Love You A Latte

As I stare at my phone, a little perplexed at the whirlwind change in circumstances, it buzzes with a text.

Unknown number: Hey, it’s Frankie. Everly said you’re in a situation and need a ride from the airport?

Me: Hey Frankie, yeah, I’m really sorry about this. My reservation got messed up and they have no rental cars left. If you’re able to drive out here I’d really appreciate it, but if not no worries! I can figure something else out [smiley emoji]

Unknown number: No problem. I’ll head out soon and text you my ETA

I type and then delete a reply, then my fingers jab out a new one. I debate how many exclamation points is too many exclamation points, then realize they’re likely seeing the three little dots popping up and down on their end. This is the worst. I finally settle on only one exclamation point, and hit send.

Me: Oh my gosh, thank you so much. Okay, sounds good, talk soon!

I save their number in my phone and shove it in my pocket, then wander back into the terminal in search of food while I wait for Frankie to arrive.

~~~

Unfortunately, despite being hungry a half hour ago, my stomach has been in knots since Everly decided to so very thoughtfully solve my problem for me, so I was only able to manage a few bites while waiting for Frankie. The remnants of my meal end up in the compost bin and I detour through the airport bookstore as I wait, killing time. I somehow manage not to buy anything, a truly impressive feat, and as soon as I receive Frankie’s message that they’re pulling into the airport, my stomach flips and explodes with butterflies.

Freakingbutterflies.

I berate myself internally, trying to hammer in the fact that they rejected me only a few months ago, but it doesn’t seem to matter. The butterflies are relentless and don’t care one bit about how tarnished my heart is.

I mean, it shouldn’t have impacted me so strongly. It was one night of drinking games, full of flirting and fun, and I had no reason to take it so personally when they didn’t want more at the end of the night. Especially since Frankie is my sister’s best friend. Of course they wouldn’t want to mess things up with Everly by making out with me. They might even think of me like their own little sister.

The thought makes me cringe, and I shudder to shake it off.

I’ve always been told I’m overly sensitive. The toxic relationships haven’t helped, and add in my parents’ deaths when I was only twenty—yeah, it’s a recipe for emotional disaster.

So my tender heart was bruised by a rejection from someone I thought felt the same way I did, and apparently it still is even now. Months later.

Frankie rumbles up to the curb in their beat-up old blue pickup truck and I suck in a breath, bracing myself. It’s onething to daydream about them, it’s another entirely to see them in person again. I mean, they’re just socool. With their aviator shades, one hand on the top of the wheel and the other out the open window, black tattoos running up and down both arms. Curly, floppy brown hair on top and shaved on the sides hints at their Mexican heritage, while the Polynesian style tattoo circling their forearm speaks to the other side of their family tree. They adjust their hold on the wheel to park and when they look my way, one side of their mouth quirks up and I blink, realizing I’m just standing here. Staring.

I jolt into action, tugging my heavy suitcase and carry-on with me, when they open the door and step out. Those black combat boots do something to me, causing an enticing, swooping motion in my lower abdomen, but when they reach one hand up to remove their sunglasses and I’m hit with those sparkling hazel eyes… yeah. I’m done for.

One hundred percent a lost cause.

Their crooked grin hasn’t abated, and I stumble, tripping over my own two feet when they stick their sunglasses into that perfectly messy hair and rake their gaze up and down my body. That can’t possibly mean what my body wants it to. My face turns beet red; I can feel how hot my skin is, and I avert my eyes, looking at the dirty pavement instead of them.

I don’t look bad, per se. I’m wearing leggings and an oversized tee, so I don’t look fantastic, but it could be worse. I hate that I’m having such a strong reaction to them though, my entire body gravitating toward them and seeking their approval, their interest. I try to remind myself that they don’t want me, despite whatever that appreciative look might have implied.

“Hey,” I say, clearing my throat as I approach.

Frankie already has the tailgate open, and they reach out to grab my suitcase.

“Hey,” they reply, and oh heavens that voice. A perfect alto, a bit husky, and all bad for me.

“Hi,” I say, and immediately close my eyes for a moment, trying to hold the regret and embarrassment atbay.

Stupid. So stupid.

Frankie laughs as they latch the tailgate shut and the truck gives a slight lurch. It’s a contagious laugh though, and strangely, it doesn’t make me feel like I’m being laughedat. Instead, that laugh makes my heart flutter in my chest, a happy little dance at hearing their joy. My smile peeks out as they walk around me to the passenger side, but it drops when they open the truck door for me, standing far too close. Close enough to touch with the smallest movement, if I wanted to. Iftheywanted me to.

When I simply stand there and stare for a moment too long, Frankie clears their throat with a pointedly raised eyebrow and angles their head for me to get in.

This person is dangerous. I don’t know if my heart is going to survive the next hour, let alone the next week.

CHAPTER TWO

FRANKIE

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