I sound like a creeper knowing that. But having unrequited feelings for a woman for over three years, with no appropriate opportunity to socialize outside of work without raising suspicion, you soak up every little detail you can when you’re together.
The faint noise of a dog barking comes from the shore. I follow the sound, opening the sliding doors onto the deck, and I’m greeted by a sight I wish I’d had the wherewithal to prepare for.
Frankie in yoga pants and another oversized sweatshirt. She stands barefoot down on the shore, tossing a ball for Pazza who bolts along the packed sand, then scoops it nimbly away from foamy waves curling toward her. Wind sweeps Frankie’s dark hair into inky ribbons that glow against the sunrise. The sun creeps over the water’s edge, bouncing off her cheekbones, the soft upturn of her nose.
Her smile is small, her thoughts seemingly far away.
There’s rarely a smile warming Frankie’s face. Most times her mouth is set in a hard line. The guys joke about it—Frank the Crank, they call her. But I’ve never seen her that way. She’s serious. No bullshit. But often women feel they have to be like that to be respected in their work, to ensure men don’t get ideas and cross boundaries.
Also, she has arthritis. She doesn’t always seem to be uncomfortable, but I can tell when she’s in pain, and it’s not infrequent. I wouldn’t exactly walk around smiling constantly if my body hurt like that.
Not that you’d believe inflammation riddles Frankie’s joints as she whips the ball through the air in a fastball pitch. An involuntary whistle of appreciation leaves me, and her head whips my way, the portrait of surprised.
Then the weirdest thing happens. Her eyes crinkle. Her mouth tips into a wide smile. The dimple pops. And my heart nearly tumbles out of my chest. She looks…happy to see me.
I soak it up, greedy, starved. A look like that is once in a lifetime. Because Frankie does a lot of grunting hello. Cursory, no-eye-contact waves. Of course, I know she respects me, that she trusts me to be a decent person as it pertains to our work, but this?
This is new. Rare. A knot of nerves tightens my stomach as I lift a hand tentatively.
She raises her thermos of coffee in response and yells, “Come on! I can’t throw this ball forever!”
Jogging down across the sand, I take the ball from Pazza when she next bounds back with it. Then I throw it in a high arc through the air.
Frankie watches with narrowing eyes. “Show-off,” she mutters into her thermos before she takes a sip.
“Says the woman with a mean softball pitch.”
She glances up at me. “You saw that, did you?”
“I did. You been holding out on me, Zeferino?”
“Hardly.” She sips her coffee again. “I haven’t thrown a softball since junior year of high school, before…” Anther sip of coffee. “It’s been a long time. And it hurts like hell. How I didn’t dislocate my elbow pitching like that, I’ll never know.”
When she returns, I give Pazza an affectionate pat to her side, then throw the ball for her again. “Well, it looks like you still have it.”
Frankie gives me a sidelong glance. Her cheeks pink a little, before her eyes dart away. “Thanks.”
Silence falls between us, but I don’t mind it. I grew up with chaos—a family of six siblings and two busy parents—and I know my way around it, how to yell loud enough to be heard, how to shove and tease and vie for attention. But two years into living in my house on the beach, this big house that I hope one day grows as full of lovable chaos as the one I grew up in, I’ve learned to enjoy quiet. So, I listen to the waves break on the shore. I watch the wind curl Frankie’s hair up into the air as sunrise breaks over the water. And it feels inexplicably right.
“Zenzero.”
I snap out of it. “I was staring. Sorry. You look good backlit by the sunrise—that is, I mean, that was a strictly platonic statement…” My voice fades as a blush burns my cheeks.
Frankie grins up at me. “Don’t worry. You’re still cute, even tripping over your words, Mr. Calm-Cool-and-Happy.”
I frown at her. “That’s how you see me?” Try Crazed-Hot-and-Bothered.
She shrugs and returns her focus to Pazza. “I’m starting to figure out there’s more to you than that sunshine smile.”
“And what’s that?”
Pazza comes barreling our way, and skids to a sandy halt at our feet as she drops the ball. Tipping her head, she glances between the two of us, her tongue lolling happily out of her mouth.
Frankie sweeps up the ball from the sand and tosses it softly into the air, catching it as she walks by me. “A bashful, dorky, sweetheart. I pity the women of Los Angeles when this gets out, Ren.”
“Wait.” I scramble to catch up to Frankie, which isn’t hard. She moves slower in the morning. She’s also not using her cane, so she favors her left leg and walks carefully. “Frankie, just to be clear, I want my personal life to be just between me and friends.”
Frankie stops at the bottom of the steps up to my deck. “So, we’re friends, are we?”
“You said so the other night.”
She lifts an eyebrow. “True. But if my hazy weed memory serves me correctly, I made you impersonate a tomato when I said it.”
I scrub my neck. “You caught me off guard. I didn’t know you liked me enough to call me a friend.”
Frankie’s smile disappears. “What?”
“No, wait.” I swallow nervously. “That came out wrong. I-I need coffee. Let’s go inside, and I’ll try that again.”
Frankie leads the way, but Pazza stops, blocking my progress as she looks up and gives me an incredulous look.
“Trust me,” I mutter to the dog. “Ryder’s told me all about it. I’m the king of sticking my foot in my mouth.” Pazza huffs, then trots off ahead of me.
After Frankie hoses off Pazza’s paws and her feet, we settle into the kitchen. The sound of a dog lapping up her meal is the only noise in the room as Frankie stands at the island and grins at me over her coffee. I swallow a scalding gulp and try to formulate my thoughts. I’m so infuriatingly clumsy with my words around her.
Setting down my coffee, I narrow my eyes at her amused grin. “Enjoy watching me squirm?”
Frankie’s grin deepens and out comes the dimple. “I can’t lie, Zenzero, it’s entertaining. You’re usually so chill.”
I turn my coffee mug slowly, clockwise. “I’ve learned things go better for me when that’s what other people see.”
“But that’s not all there is, is it? What most people see is…incomplete.”
My eyes lift and find hers. Her irises glitter, forest green dappled with gold, like sunlight peeking through a canopy of leaves. “Yes.”
“Well,” Frankie says as she sets down her coffee and clears her throat. “I very much empathize with that, Zenzero. Your secret is safe with me.”
I tip my head, hoping she’ll give me more. Instead she shifts on her feet and says, “While we’re on the subject of privacy, I want you to consider how my staying with you looks. I need it to be very clear with the team that extenuating circumstances, and nothing else, led to me staying with you.”