Chapter 2

The restaurant is dimly lit,and I forget that it’s Frankie’s first time here, and he can barely read the menu. He’s squinting his eyes, looking grumpier by the second.

I let out a giggle and he cranes his neck to look down at me, making me zip my lips.

“What?”

“Need a flashlight?” I ask, giving him a shit-eating grin.

He rolls his eyes before leaning closer to me, his knee bumping into mine. Although I didn’t mind that we had to sit at the bar, it meant we’d have to sit side by side. It isn’t much of a bother, except we’re all the way at the end, where I’ve got my left shoulder pressed against the wall, and his big frame almost engulfs mine in the process.

He bumps shoulders with me, and the length of his thigh presses against mine. The weather isn’t too cold, so I’ve got on my signature black skirt and sheer tights. The skirt rides up a little, so I jolt when his pants make contact. He’s got on black dress pants and a dark maroon dress shirt with the sleeves pulled up to show off the muscles in his forearms.

Not that I’m looking.

I’m not sure what the hell is going on, but there’s something and it’s making it harder to be around Frankie than I’d like to admit.

Tension.

Something I’ve tried so desperately to push down, especially when it came to the man next to me.

And it didn’t miraculously start today. My move to New York didn’t help one bit. Something I never thought would happen to me regarding my dad’s best friend. It caught me by surprise the first time, and I could remember it like it was yesterday.

His knee bumps into mine again and knocks me out of the past, and I look up at him and give him a smirk. “Here,” I say before pulling out my phone and turning up the brightness on the screen before flipping it over to bring light to the menu in his hands. It’s better than shining a damn flashlight and causing a scene or getting judgy looks from the bartenders.

I know the bartender tonight, Hannah, wouldn’t mind, but she’d definitely laugh at Frankie. I would, too, but right now, my nerves are high-strung for some reason.

He leans into the menu under the bright light, and his stubbled chin accidentally touches my knuckle, making me pull away instinctively. His free hand grabs my wrist and pulls me back to the menu.

“Like that,” he breathes. “Perfect.”

I gulp, unsure of what the hell I should do. With my hand outstretched over his menu, I sit there, and his fingers wrap around my wrist perfectly. Images of unthinkable things come to mind.

I blame my job. Lately, it’s got me thinking a lot more about my preferences in the bedroom. Like a man with his calloused, big hands grabbing my wrists, pulling them above me, and tying them on the headboard. It’s not my fault that Frankie’s hand fit the image perfectly?—

“I’ll get the caviar,” he finally says.

I raise a brow. “Going all out, huh?”

He laughs, and it vibrates in the air and through his hold on me. “I’m in New York City, baby!”

The nickname fell so easily off his lips, and I swallowed a thick wad of cotton that developed in my mouth. He doesn’t seem to notice, and I pull my phone back, turning it off before chucking it in my purse. I shift a little in my barstool.

“I’ll get the roast chicken, and we can share,” I tell him.

“Fine by me, Rosita.” He finally turns to me and smiles. It seems to ease the thick tension because I smile back at him.

We flag down Hannah before ordering another round of drinks as well as what we’ve decided on for dinner. Conversation flows well like it always does with Frankie, mostly about my life here in New York and Dahlia. We love her so much, and he catches me up on everything.

Our food comes soon after that, and we take turns trying the caviar before diving into the roast chicken. The flavors are so well done that I can’t help but let out a soft moan while biting into the next piece of chicken. I widen my eyes before looking at him, and he chuckles and shakes his head.

“What?” I laugh, nudging him with my elbow. I hit his side, and he makes a small oof noise before settling back in his seat. He looks at me before picking up a piece, popping it in his mouth, and swallowing before answering.

“It makes me happy seeing you happy here. En esta ciudad.”

The conversation seems to have tilted to something that brings that same tension from before. I swallow any remnant pieces of chicken I’m chewing on before deciding on my next words very carefully.

Blurry lines. Don’t. Cross.

“Thanks, Frankie. I know my dad was super worried about me moving. But I love it here and had a good feeling about it even before I decided on it.”

“And I can tell. I’ve always wanted you to follow your heart, and now look at you, Rosalía.”

I swallow, looking at him. He’s never called me that. Only Rosita. The air has shifted once again, and I lean into it—into him.

It might be the two glasses of wine in my system mixed with an empty stomach aside from this roast chicken, but I don’t care. My inhibition screams for contact.

His eyes cast down to my lips before lifting back to my eyes. He leans into it a little, and I’m practically falling off my stool as I nudge myself closer, pressing my knees into his outer thigh.

“Look at you,” he whispers, almost to himself. The heat seems to increase in my body, and I know if there were lights in this restaurant, he’d see me looking like a tomato. The angel on my shoulder is screaming at me to stop, scoot back into my stool, and continue my meal.

But the devil on my shoulder tells me to place my hand on his thigh. And so I do.

He watches me intently before licking his lips and leaning more into our personal bubble.

“Rosalía, what are you doing?” he mutters under his breath.

“I-I don’t know, but?—”

Before I can reply, Hannah comes up to us and asks if we want another round. My hand on his thigh squeezes from the surprise, and a groan slips from his lips. I bite my lip to keep myself from giggling before looking at Hannah and shaking my head.

“Actually, I think we’re ready for the check,” he says a little too loudly. Hannah looks at me before nodding and heading to the register to close our tab. I scoot back into my stool, pulling my hand away from his thigh in the process, and I swear I hear a grumble of disappointment.

I glance up at Frankie, and he still has a smile on his face as he reaches for his drink and finishes it. Hannah quickly brings the check, and Frankie pulls out his wallet as I’m about to grab my card from my purse.

“It’s fine, Rosita, I’ve got it.”

It feels like my whole body deflates, alongside my ego, with the way he goes back to calling me Rosita.

I need him to call me Rosalía one more time. But he’s already cracked the illusion of what was going on just between us. The bubble has popped, and it’s like I can finally hear what’s around me. The noise is loud, and I want to leave. The sensory overload is making my skin crawl.

“Thanks,” I mutter a little too harshly before Hannah comes and takes the bill. She glances at me, and I give her a tight smile. She quickly returns with his card, and I peek as he signs and leaves a hefty tip.

Woah.I knew my dad made good money with his contracting company, but I didn’t think it was that much. Unless in the last year Frankie quit and got a different job that I wasn’t informed about it. Or won the lottery.

“Ready?” he asks, turning to me. I nod quickly before hopping off the stool and almost colliding into him as he does the same. His movement is much more graceful than mine, but he has to grab my shoulders to keep me from falling.

“Sorry,” I mumble before he gives me a warm smile that spreads like wildfire in my veins.

He gestures for me to go first, so I lead the way out of the restaurant until we’re on the street. A few cars zip by, and I turn to see him stuffing his hands in the pockets of his dress pants.

“My shift starts soon,” I say. I’d love for him to walk me to work, but I don’t need him telling my dad where I work. I don’t need Frankie to know where I work. I’ve kept this secret for so long, but it’s for the best.

It would be way more than I could handle if they ever found out. I love my job, but it’s not ideal and is often frowned upon once others find out.

“Want me to walk you? My friend is in town, and I don’t have to meet him for another hour,” Frankie starts. I shake my head, and there’s a clear disappointment in his face that makes me want to reverse time.

“It’s not too far.” I think of a quick lie. “My coworker lives just down the street, so I can walk with her. We’re working the same shift.”

It’s a white lie. Willow does work tonight, but she’s already there.

He nods before taking a deep breath and stepping closer. I hold my breath for a moment, looking up at him. I see his dark eyes study me. He’s so damn beautiful. I just never took the time to see it.

Or maybe I was stuck in the thought of seeing him as close family. But the time I’ve spent in New York has changed things and how I see things. How I care about things.

Maybe that’s why I’m still okay about my best friend and dad. It’s just something I’m cool with, and there was a reason. This job is perfect for me, and it all makes sense.

Forbidden aspects and secrets have become my favorite things. My coworker Willow loves to talk about Clementine and my dad whenever she gets the chance ever since I told her about them. My roommate, Luisa, even agreed and always wants to stay updated on all things Clementine and Dad.

They’d crack up if I told them about my current predicament. I haven’t told a soul about the slow glances, the soft touches, and the forbidden feeling I’ve had more times than I can count with Frankie. I know it’s probably all one-sided, but I’m falling deep into it.

Maybe it’s a genetic thing, now that I think about it. My dad went for my best friend. And now I’m fiending for his best friend.

“What are you thinking about?” He breaks my thoughts with his question, and I remember that I’m face to face with him. I chew on the inside of my cheek before smiling.

“Nada. Just stupid things. I’ve got to go, though. You’ll be okay?”

He laughs. “Usually, it’s me asking that. Yeah, I’ll be fine, Rosita. Let me know if you need anything. I’m a call away. Like I told you, I’ll be in New York for a little.”

I nod before he takes a step back, and I do the same. It’s like an invisible rope has been tied around us and loosens with each step, yet still tethered. I don’t want to leave for some reason, but I have to go to work.

I’ve got a long night ahead of me, and it’s not helping seeing Frankie like this. He raises a brow as if he wants to say something but doesn’t. He turns on his heels and starts walking in the opposite direction. He steals a glance when he’s almost halfway down the block, and my cheeks burn when I realize I haven’t moved an inch.

“Calmáte, Rosalía,” I tell myself before I turn and head towards work. It’s a twenty-minute walk, but it allows me to clear my head.