11. Frankie

11 /

frankie

I didn’t realize getting a cold was such a great ab workout. I think I’m finally over the sneezing fits, which took up most of my morning and stuck around through the soup and crackers Noah brought over for lunch. I wanted to rally and show up for the photo booth, but Noah insisted I let him handle it.

My dad comes home tomorrow, a few days early, and I miss him. But also, I don’t want anything to disrupt the fragile ecosystem of me and Noah and that booth. I’m already hot with jealousy because Mazy filled in for me today. And watching her strip out of my costume in front of me is a wake-up call for exactly how revealing that green outfit is. Noah better have kept his eyes and hands to himself.

“Seriously, Frankie. I know you want to go into social work, but dealing with the public is gross sometimes. I had a kid vomit on my shoes, and at least two older men and one older woman touch my bum. This bum. Right here. Like, my skin is itchy where they copped a feel.”

She shivers and makes a gagging sound. I’m less worried about her wanting to encroach on my thing now, and she hasn’t mentioned Noah once.

“I should have warned you about the entitled regulars at the rink. Oscar and Milton, the men I think you’re talking about? They stopped accidentally brushing my ass with their hand when I threatened to do it back with a fist. Georgianne, however? Silver hair and turquoise purse?”

I quirk a brow, and Mazy snaps and points at me.

“Yes, that’s the one!”

I nod as she shoves her feet into her leggings and sits on my desk chair to shimmy them up.

“She’s a little harder to shake. That’s because she’s not trying to cop a feel. She’s looking for your wallet.”

Mazy’s head pops up, and her mouth forms an O.

I nod.

“Yeah. She’s got a rap sheet, I guess. And technically, she’s out on parole. Nobody wants to turn in a woman in her seventies, so she just keeps on rolling with her grift. It’s kind of genius. I mean, for theft.”

Mazy chuckles, then unzips her crossbody bag and pulls out her wallet to confirm that her cash and cards are still inside.

“How was Noah today?” I finally ask.

She zips her purse back up and lifts her chin, giving me a coy smirk.

“Frankie, staring at that man in a Santa suit all day, made all of the unwanted advances, and apparently mugging attempts, worth it. He is aging so fine. And I didn’t realize how big his heart is. I mean, there was a kid who just lost his dog, and Noah spent extra time talking to him about it, showing him pictures of his old dog, which he still keeps on his phone! Gah! He’s just so?—”

“We’re hooking up.” I cut her off before she professes her love for him because, one, hearing all this is making me so jealous, and two, I am dying to tell someone.

She’s frozen, her mouth still half open, ready to finish her sentence, which likely abruptly changed course. I cover my face with my hands and peek through my fingers, and she finally shifts her gaze to me.

“You bitch,” she says with a smirk.

“I know!” I force my fingers together again, blocking my view. My friend tugs my hands away after taking a seat on my bed.

“You broke the germ bubble,” I say, drawing a circle in the air.

She swats at my hand.

“Frankie, there is no bubble when you have news like this. I’ll get sick just to hear the details. I need to know. Tell me everything. Oh, my God, you said hooking up. So that means you’ve seen . . .”

I nod and cover my face again. She pulls my hands away a second time.

“Big?”

I nod and widen my eyes.

“And how many times?”

I glance up and to the side, literally counting.

“Oh, my God, you have to think about it?”

I giggle and come back to her gaze. “I want to say three, but maybe one doesn’t count because I—” I suck in my bottom lip.

“Shut up!” She pushes me, and I fall back into my pillows.

She stares at me as our laughter subsides, but her smile sticks around.

“I’m so jealous, but I know what this means for you. I’ve always known that Noah is special to you. And you’re special to him. I’ve seen it since high school.”

“You have?” My brow pinches. I didn’t see it. Not then, at least.

She nods as she gets up from my bed.

“We all saw it. Our friend group? When you weren’t around, we called you that lucky bitch. But honestly? He’s the lucky one.”

“Aww,” I utter, my eyebrows denting with the sudden need to let my eyes well up with tears.

“Now, I’d love to stick around and eat ice cream and French fries with you like we used to on sick days, but I need to go to my actual job now, the one that gives me money so I can buy Christmas presents . . . for myself.”

I laugh at her honesty and hold up heart hands as she blows me a kiss and leaves my room. I check my phone for a text from Noah, but he still hasn’t answered to let me know how the day went for him. We got a lot of attention for the food drive yesterday, and Norris got a reporter from our local paper to come out and do a story on it. While I hope that food donations come pouring in, I also hope that the generosity spills over to the photo booth, too. I’m worried we’ll have to scale down the holiday meal.

I swish my spoon around the remaining soup in the mug on my nightstand and taste a spoonful to see how cold it’s gotten. It’s lukewarm, which is too luke for my taste, so I push the mug away, hoping my mom will pass by and take it to the kitchen. It’s been a while since I’ve been sick at home. I forgot how nice it is to be babied.

After nearly an hour of waiting, my phone finally buzzes with a message from Noah. I sit up excitedly, pushing away my comforter and fuzzy blanket as if I’m really going to spring out of bed and hit the town with him. I feel better, but my body feels like it’s been run over by a garbage truck. Which is convenient, I guess, since Noah’s text says he forgot about plans he made with my brother and a few of their friends to go to the bar and watch the Bulls game.

I pout but send him back a thumbs-up emoji. My phone buzzes again when he quickly sends a heart.

It’s such a small, insignificant gesture, but it somehow has my pulse racing in that excited, girl-with-a-crush way. I sink back into my covers and turn off the lamp next to my bed so I can obsess over Noah’s social media even more, a thing I’ve spent most of the day doing. Not that he’s ever posted a ton, but there used to be pictures of him with girls on his page. Now, it’s just him and the team, or with my brother. And then the shot of us that Norris took. Not all the comments are exactly nice—like the one from Kassie123Me that says the elf looks like a skanky ho. What does she know? I’m not even an elf. But there are a lot of nice ones, too, from both guys and girls. A lot of people saying cute couple . And then one from his mom that simply reads: I told you so.

I screenshot the photo and a few of my favorite comments. Noah left it captionless, which makes my stomach bubble with curiosity. Is that what we are? Is that our status? Captionless.

I fall asleep, mulling over the thought. When I feel a warm body press against my back hours later in the middle of the night, it takes me a full minute to realize it’s not a dream. Noah is here. In my bed. Holding me.

“Hey,” I whisper, stretching out my arms and shifting in his embrace so I’m facing him. “Did Anthony let you in?”

His chest vibrates with silent laughter.

“Not exactly. I drove him home. And he left the door wide open, so I figured?—”

“You’d let yourself in.” I bring a fist to my eyes to rub away the sleepiness.

“I mean, it’s not like I could lock up from the outside.”

“Very fair,” I hum.

“Hey, how’s my favorite patient?” He kisses the tip of my nose.

“Careful, I’m probably still contagious.” I cover my mouth, but he pulls my hand away and pecks my lips.

“I’m pretty sure I’m well over the contagion line with you.”

I breathe out a soft laugh.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

I nuzzle against his chest, my hand snaking up his shirt to feel his bare skin. His stomach is so warm, and I swear running my palm over those abs will never get old.

“I brought the deposit over. It was a good day. Double yesterday’s amount. And we got a ton of food.”

“Mmm, that’s because Mazy is a much sexier elf than I am.” I tease.

He pushes back and quirks a brow.

“You aren’t an elf,” he protests. I tighten my lips to hold in my heavy laughter. He has no idea how amusing that comment is right now.

I nod.

“You’re right. I know better. North Pole employee.”

He smooths my wild hair from my face, his gaze scanning every inch of it. His own is wearing the most adoring expression. Just like in the photo Norris took. It must be a full moon tonight because his profile is lit up.

“No way Mazy is a hotter helper, either. Nobody’s hotter. You’re the hottest,” he says, nipping at my upper lip. The sweet taste of beer lingers on his mouth.

“I hope you’re not drunk right now because I like to think you mean it when you say I’m the hottest.”

He shakes his head and pushes his hand through my hair, holding the back of my head as our eyes lock.

“I had two beers all night. And I mean it. You are the hottest,” he says before leaning in and suckling my bottom lip.

“In fact . . .” His mouth moves against mine, tickling me with his words. “Can I show you how hot?”

I squirm under his spell and let my hand roam lower until I cup his cock.

“So that’s a yes?” he says against my ear, pressing his hard-on into my palm.

I nod, shifting so he’s under me, and I straddle him at the waist. I flatten both palms on his stomach before slowly pushing his long-sleeved T-shirt up his body. He lifts his head and shoulders to aid me as I pull it free and toss it on my floor. He circles my wrists after my palms flatten against his chest again, every muscle perfection.

I smirk and tilt my head.

“Are you . . . flexing?”

“Absolutely not. This is just how I’m built, baby.” His pecs twitch under my touch, and I sling my head back in quiet laughter.

Noah’s hands slip to my thighs, inching up my legs and around my ass until he grips both cheeks. He drags me toward him until I’m centered on his cock, and I bite my lip as he releases a quiet groan.

“Have I ever mentioned how great it is that your parents’ bedroom is downstairs?” He pushes up against me again.

“Maybe once, when I caught you and Anthony smoking a joint in his room, blowing that shit out the window.”

Noah chuckles, squeezing his eyes shut then peeling one open to look at me.

“Fifteen was not my best year,” he admits.

I gaze down at his bare chest, trying to remember what he looked like then. At the time, I thought he was so hot that he couldn’t possibly be any more handsome. I didn’t understand what sexy was.

“You weren’t so bad,” I say, leaning over him and letting my hair cascade around my face, shielding us from the rest of the world as my lips brush against his.

“Neither were you,” he says, nipping at my upper lip.

I pull back a touch to look him in the eyes.

“You did not see me as anything other than the bratty sister,” I protest.

His hands clutch my ass, digging into my skin as he pushes up against me again.

“There was definitely a shift. And it happened a while ago.”

I blink slowly, all of my suspicions from before swirling with his admission.

“And now?” I rock my hips as his gaze smolders and trails down the length of my body.

His mouth is a focused, nearly straight line, tinged by a devilish curve as his hands glide to my hips, then up my sides, gathering my cotton nightshirt. I lift my arms over my head as he removes it from my body. He grazes the backs of his hands along my cheeks and jaw as I let my arms fall to my sides. His fingers weave into my hair, combing each side over my shoulder, then twisting the ends in his fingers along the tops of my breasts. Once there, he cups both hands around my swollen mounds and rubs his thumbs over my hard nipples, sending waves of pleasure down to my tummy and core. He pinches the hard tips and holds them tight, pulling me toward him, and I obey, leaning forward a few inches under his command.

His smirk grows.

“Good girl,” he says, and I rock against his hard cock again, soaked from two simple words.

His palms leave my breasts, gliding along my ribs as his fingers draw light scratches down my skin until they reach the waistband of my cotton panties. I rise as he pulls my underwear down over my ass and hips, exposing my light strip of hair above my pussy. He leaves me this way, my panties stretched around my thighs, and glides his hands around my ass again, squeezing my cheeks before sliding his palms to the front of my body. He brings his right hand to his mouth, sucking his thumb, then moving it to my swollen clit, gliding along my soft skin before pressing into me.

I arch my back as he sinks his thumb inside me, teasing me with his index finger and holding me still with his other hand. I take every taunt his hand gives me, riding his hand as I sit up tall and move my palms to his waist. I bite my lip to hold in the sounds begging to come out, my body aching for more of him. To feel him.

I grip the band of his joggers and tug them lower, the tip of his cock flat against his stomach, glistening with pre-cum. I rub my thumb over it, and Noah shifts enough to make room for me to pull his cock out completely. He’s so hard. So hot. And my pussy throbs with want.

I crawl over his body so I can step out of my panties completely while Noah pushes his pants and boxer briefs down his legs before I return to my new favorite position. Noah guides my hips, lining me up so my pussy rubs against the tip of his dick, and he teases me with it as he grips himself with his hand.

“Fuck me, Noah Drake,” I whisper, and his eyes flutter shut for a second, his chest vibrating with a quiet growl.

I lower myself as he guides his cock into me, and I sink down on him slowly, feeling the wonderful stretch and fullness of having him inside me.

“We have all night,” Noah says in a hushed voice.

I smirk, loving that I can ruin him so quickly. I’m the one who makes him lose control. It’s my body he can’t resist.

“Good,” I say, lifting up and then sliding back down his shaft. The friction is so sweet, and the way his cock flexes inside of me pushes me to the brink.

I ride his cock with a slow and steady rhythm, my gaze locked on his face, his never drifting from the spot where he enters me. His tongue peeks out as his hips lift, meeting my movement with his own. His hands grip my hips, pulling me down harder with every pump. And I fling my head back as the first wave takes over my pussy and sends tingles down my arms and legs. I’m numb everywhere except where his cock rubs against me, and he keeps pushing in and pulling out, forcing me to take every rush of pleasure that rocks me.

My body wants to go limp, but Noah isn’t done with me. And he sits up, sliding his hands around my back and ass so he can shift me to my back as he sits up on his knees and holds my thighs against his hips. With his hands under my legs, he continues to fuck me, licking his lips as he watches my body take every inch of him. I want to see, too, so I lift myself on my elbows. His taut stomach muscles flex with every pump, his fingers dig into my skin, and his cock glistens from my pleasure and soon his own. He pulls out midway and finishes on my swollen pussy, rubbing our cum with the tip of his cock, teasing me with it, and nearly making me come again.

My room smells like sweat and sex, and Noah. His body is covered in a sheen of sweat, and my skin sticks to his as I lay on top of him and focus on the feel of his fingertips as they draw circles on my back. I’m exhausted, and I know he is too. But I want to fuck him again. I don’t want to wait for morning. And now that I know the power I hold, I simply bide my time until I can’t handle waiting any longer. I grasp him, and he flexes in my hand.

I start things just as before.

“Fuck me, Noah Drake.”