Chapter 14
Gunnar
I’m being fucking ridiculous. It’s just a date. I’ve been on tons of them and have never been this nervous before, so what the fuck?
I mean, yeah, this will be my first real date with Frankie—meaning I’m actually picking her up and taking her to a nice restaurant—but it’s not like I don’t know what I’m getting myself into. We’ve been seeing each other a lot recently and she seems to be warming up to me, which is great, of course. But there’s still something holding her back. I’m trying not to push her; it’s just hard to know where I stand.
Maybe that’s why I’m so anxious. I feel like I’m being very open with my attraction to her and although I’m pretty sure she’s into me, I’m afraid she might still walk away and never look back.
Me, on the other hand . . .
Regardless, I just want to spend time with her and show her a good time, whatever that means. No pressure, just fun. She says the time she spends helping others, whether on the job or off, is what she does for herself, but surely there has to be something she enjoys just for her. I’d love to see her throw some caution to the wind—grocery shop on a Friday and eat donuts on a Saturday. Shake things up a bit.
Do I think I’m the guy to show her how to do that? Hell yeah, I do.
When I pull up to the shelter, Frankie is already outside waiting for me. She seems even more nervous than I am and I hate seeing her like that.
“Hey.” I greet her with a smile and a small bouquet of wildflowers I picked up on my way here, hoping they ease some of her tension. “You look beautiful.” She’s always beautiful in a natural way—no fuss—but tonight I can tell she’s made an effort to highlight some of her features, and she’s absolutely breathtaking.
“You, too,” is her reply and it’s kind of awkward but only endears her to me more.
“I look beautiful?” I tease.
“Well, yeah. I mean, have you looked in the mirror lately? You know what your face looks like. Plus, you have your hair pulled back, putting it on display. It’s not fair, if you ask me.”
“What’s not fair?” I try to keep the amused tone out of my voice but I can’t help it.
“You and your face. It’s not right to show off like that and make everyone feel inadequate.”
Now, I can’t tell if she’s joking or not.
“Alright, enough of that.” I grab her hand and pull it to my lips, waiting for her eyes to find mine. “This,” pointing to my face, “is just a face. It’s not perfect. I mean, there’s a scar and everything.” I give her a wink. “Yours, on the other hand, makes my heart skip a beat every time I see it. I don’t give two shits about what anyone else thinks.”
I place her palm against my chest, right where my heart is, and hold it there. I want her to feel the beats, the stutters, the pounding because she needs to know what she does to me. Her eyes grow wide and when she turns them back to me, I nod my head. “That’s all you.”
Frankie lets out a deep, shuddering breath and her body visibly relaxes. “I’m sorry I’m being so weird and anxious and insecure. This is my first really real date and you show up with flowers, all sweet and gorgeous and—”
“Frankie.” When she stops rambling and looks up at me, I continue. “Stop talking.”
A look of surprise covers her face but my tactic works. I don’t need her explanations, I just want her. Just to make sure, though, I lean down and gently place my lips against hers. She’s so fucking soft and sweet and it takes all of my power not to deepen the kiss. When I pull back, she seems a little disappointed but calm, which is what I was going for.
“Come on, we have a reservation.” I pull on her hand, leading her to my truck and helping her into the passenger seat.
It’s not until I’ve pulled onto the highway that she speaks again. “Thank you for the flowers. They’re beautiful.”
“You’re welcome.”
“What made you choose wildflowers?”
“Well, I wasn’t sure what your favorite flower is and I didn’t want to get you something typical or cliché. These, though . . . I don’t know, they reminded me of you. Beautiful, colorful, and full of life.”
“That doesn’t sound like me.”
I give her as stern a look as I can while driving. “You are all those things. You’re a wild child, Frankie Reeves. You just need to be set free.”
“I suppose you think you’re the one to help me with that?”
“Damn straight.”
**BC**
“I’ve lived around here my entire life, but I’ve never eaten at The Front Porch,” Frankie says as we both look over our menus.
“Really? From what I hear, this is the nicest restaurant in town. I know you didn’t date, but what about with friends for prom or homecoming or whatever?”
She shakes her head, not looking at me. “No, I never went to any of those either.”
“Why not?” It’s hard for me to imagine Frankie being a typical teenager but surely, she must have had some kind of social life. “What did you do for fun?”
“Same as now, I guess.” Frankie shrugs but I can tell her eyes aren’t focused on anything. She looks as though she’s lost in a memory so I give her time to continue her answer. “My mom didn’t want me hanging out with local kids, and besides that, we moved around so much, I didn’t really have any friends to hang out with. It was somewhat better when I was at college.”
“Only somewhat?” I’m trying to keep my reactions neutral but it’s a struggle. All I know is I want her to keep talking.
“It was quite the adjustment going from a sheltered kid to an adult with freedom. Plus, my social skills were lacking, to say the least. I’m a quick learner, though, and I did the best I could. Now, here we are.”
Her cheeks are flaming red and she still won’t look me in the eye, so I reach out and grab her hand. I watch as her eyes close, realizing how truly difficult this must be for her, and my heart aches. I give her hand a squeeze and whisper, “For what it’s worth, I think you’re amazing.” Her eyes close tighter and her chin wobbles, so I try another tactic because the last thing I want is for her to cry.
“When I was a freshman in high school, we had to wrestle in PE class. One day, I had to wrestle a girl, which was fine by me, until she accidentally slipped her hand up my shorts and grabbed my balls. I guess you could call it my first hand job, only it wasn’t as enjoyable as I would’ve hoped.”
Frankie lets out a loud snort before covering her mouth. “That really happened?”
Placing my hand over my heart, I answer. “I swear it did. A couple of years later, I took that same girl to the Homecoming dance. I was very pleased to learn her technique had improved immensely.”
“Oh, my gosh. You’re terrible, you know that?” Frankie wipes at her eyes, but I’m relieved the tears are from laughing and not crying.
After a fantastic meal and even better company, I reluctantly drive Frankie to her house and turn the truck off. I don’t expect her to invite me inside her place. We’re still moving slow, and that’s okay.