08

𝓣𝓲𝓶

Frank handed me the towel the moment I got into the car.

I didn’t look at him. I grabbed it and pressed it to my face right away, covering myself completely. The towel was thick and dry, rough against my skin. I dragged it over my hair, my forehead, my eyes, moving slowly, deliberately, like I was only drying rainwater.

I was crying.

The tears slipped out before I could stop them. Silent and hot. They soaked into the towel quickly. My chest tightened so badly it almost hurt to breathe. I leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on my knees, hoping the angle would hide the shaking of my shoulders.

I hated this.

I hated that I was crying because Eric hadn’t come out with an umbrella. I hated that I had stood outside that hospital like an idiot, staring at the doors, waiting. I hated that some stupid part of me still believed he would show up. That he would choose me.

The rain outside was loud. It beat against the roof of the car and the windows, steady and unforgiving. It helped hide everything. My sobs, my breathing and most of all, my stupidity.

Frank didn’t say anything at first, just watched me cry.

After a moment, he spoke casually, like he was commenting on the weather. “Rain’s heavy. Your face is soaked. Dry properly.”

I knew what he was doing.

He was giving me an excuse.

A way to cry more without being embarrassed.

I wiped my face again, slower this time, dragging the towel down my cheeks and jaw. My throat felt tight, raw. When I finally lowered the towel, my eyes burned, but I looked normal enough. I didn’t look at him. I kept my gaze fixed on the dashboard.

“I’ll take you back to your hotel,” Frank said, turning on the engine.

“No,” I replied instantly.

He paused, the engine of the car hummed softly.

“No?” he repeated, glancing at me.

“I don’t want to go back there.”

The car didn’t move. Rain streaked down the windshield, blurring the streetlights outside. Frank studied me in silence, his gaze sharp but I couldn't tell what he was thinking at that moment.

“Then where?” he asked finally.

“A bar,” I said. “Anywhere.”

For a moment, I thought he might argue. Ask questions, but he didn’t. He nodded once and pulled into the road.

The bar he chose was dim with a sign that read “Old Paul’s” and trust me when I said it was crowded. The air inside was thick with alcohol and noise. Low music hummed in the background and people laughed too loudly, leaned too close to each other.

No one paid us any attention, and I liked that.

Frank ordered drinks without asking what I wanted. When the glass was placed in front of me, I picked it up and drank immediately. The alcohol burned down my throat, so sharp that it felt like a cleansing.

It felt good, and definitely what I needed at the moment.

I took another glass again. Then again.

Each swallow loosened something inside me. The tight grip I had on my emotions slipped little by little. My body felt warm, and my head felt light.

The ache in my chest dulled, but the feelings underneath only grew bold.

Frank drank slowly, calmly. He watched me without staring.

“You’re overdoing it,” he said.

“I’m fine,” I replied, even though my voice didn’t sound steady.

I ordered another drink.

The space between us felt smaller as time passed. Our knees brushed under the table, my arm pressed against his. Each small touch sent a jolt through me. I hated that my body noticed. Hated that it reacted.

When Frank stood, I followed without thinking.

The bathroom was small, dim and warm. The mirror was fogged and the hum of the bar was muffled behind the door. I leaned against the sink, gripping the edge to steady myself.

Frank stood in front of me.

Too close.

“You alright?” he asked.

I laughed softly, bitter. “Do I look alright?”

He didn’t answer.

The silence pressed in on me. My heart was racing, the alcohol blurred the edges of my judgment. I was too aware of him, of how steady he was. How controlled and how different from Eric.

That thought made my chest twist.

I stepped forward.

My hands pressed against his chest before I could stop myself. His body was solid, warm. Real. My breath hitched.

“Eric,” I whispered.

The name slipped out without me realizing it.

Everything froze.

Frank went completely still. The air shifted instantly, like something had snapped, the second I saw his expression change, shame crashed over me.

I shoved him away hard. “No. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”

He laughed. Not amused. Something bitter slipped into it, sharp and ugly. The kind of laugh that makes you feel small, like you’re being judged. Like I was one of those stupid kids who crushed on the popular jock in high school and never stood a chance.

“So that’s how it is,” he said. “Didn’t realize you were that devoted.”

My face burned. “You don’t know anything.”

“Oh, I know enough,” he replied calmly. “Your taste is terrible.”

Anger flared fast, hot and sudden. “What do you know about Eric?”

He raised his head slightly, studying me. “Honestly? You and my brother are a perfect match.”

My chest tightened. “What does that mean?”

“You both fall for trash people,” he said bluntly. “Him with Laura. You with him.”

The words hit harder than I expected. “What do you know?” I snapped. “You don’t understand Eric at all. You haven’t had any contact with him for years, let alone Laura.”

Frank’s expression didn’t change. “How do you know my brother and I are on bad terms?”

“I’ve been his friend for years,” I said. “Ten years. He’s never once mentioned you to me.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t understand the two of them,” he replied.

Something twisted in my chest. “Then explain it to me,” I said tightly. “I’ve wanted to ask this for a while. How can you be so certain? How can you say so confidently that nothing good would happen if I went to the hospital?”

His eyes narrowed, like he had been waiting for that question. “I have my ways,” he said. Then his mouth curved slightly. “I didn’t realize you were becoming curious about me.”

I frowned. “That’s not what this is.”

“Why not consider being with me instead?” he went on, voice low and maddeningly sure. “Instead of that idiot brother of mine. In every sense of the word, I’m much better than him.”

The way he said it made my stomach drop. Too confident and too deliberate. And before I could stop myself, my mind went somewhere I didn’t want it to go. His hands, his body and his awfully big cock.

The stupid, humiliating thought that he wasn’t just talking about feelings or choices at all.

“You’re an arrogant scoundrel,” I shot back, my voice shaking despite myself.

His brow lifted slightly. “I didn’t mean it that way,” he said coolly. “You’re the one whose mind went there.”

That was worse, much worse to be honest.

The shame hit me all at once, hot and suffocating.

Like I had been caught thinking something dirty and wrong. Like he had seen straight through me. Anger rushed in right after, fast and sharp, because I couldn’t stand how exposed I felt.

I didn’t think. I didn’t plan it. My body moved on its own, faster than my mind could catch up or stop it.

The sound rang out as my palm connected with his cheek.

For a brief second, everything froze.

Frank’s head turned slightly from the force. His expression shifted into something I couldn’t read. My hand stayed in the air before slowly dropping, the sting spreading through my fingers as reality settled in.

I stood there, breathing hard. My chest rose and fell like I had been running. My hand shook uncontrollably, not from the impact, but from everything behind it. My whole body burned, heat crawling under my skin, fueled by shame and anger I didn’t know how to control anymore.

I hated that it had come to this. I hated that he had pushed me here. I hated how weak I felt at the same time.

“Don’t,” I said hoarsely. “Don’t ever talk like that again.”