She giggled. “Seriously, though, you’ve never done that? It’s like…you know something may potentially smell bad, but you sniff it anyway? I sort of get a sick pleasure from it.”
I bet you’re a little freak in bed.
I couldn’t help my thoughts toward her lately.
“Oh, right,” I said. “I did that to your dirty underwear once. First and last time I smelled them. Learned my lesson the hard way.”
“You’re lying.”
I threw another shirt at her. “I am.”
Although, I’d definitely fantasized about that—among other things.
She sniffed the second shirt, too.
“What does that one smell like?”
“Like your cologne mixed with tacos.”
Shaking my head, I said, “You never cease to puzzle me, Frankie Jane.”
“Why do you call me that? My middle name isn’t even Jane.”
“I don’t know. The two names seem to go together.”
“You just call me whatever you want, don’t you?”
“I’m sure you call me a lot of things under your breath.” I picked up the book she’d been reading from atop the dryer. “What weird shit are you reading this time?” I looked down at the title. “The Man Who Folded Himself? What the hell?”
“It’s a time travel novel.”
“What’s the gist?”
“The main character encounters various versions of himself in different time periods. He even has sex with some of them. He just got someone pregnant. I’m trying to figure out if he’s carrying his own child.”
“What in the ever-living fuck, Frankie? That shit is so twisted.”
“I know. That’s why I like it. The author’s imagination is endless. There are no boundaries when it comes to the human mind and what it can conjure up.”
“You find everything fascinating.”
That’s one of the things I love about her.
Frankie always found something interesting in everything. It was a testament to how much our attitudes shape our life experiences. The more I hung out with her, the more I realized what a miserable fuck I really had been all my life.
“I do have a pretty big imagination myself, which is probably why I appreciate books like this. But the imaginative mind can be a curse,” she said.
“What do you mean?”
“My imagination is too active sometimes and because I have an obsessive mind on top of that, it can cause problems for me. For instance, I’ll get a bizarre thought, and I’m able to visualize it so clearly that it feels like it could be true. But then I start to obsess over the thought, trying to find the meaning behind it.”
“Give me an example.”
“Well, like you might be talking to me, and I’ll have a random thought about stabbing you. The average person would just dismiss it as a fleeting thought. But someone with an obsessive mind like me would perform mental rituals in order to determine if there’s any validity to it. It’s a form of OCD. They call it Pure O. It’s like my mind never stops. It was worse when I was younger. I’ve learned to deal with it.”
“What did you do to make it better?”
“I read some self-help books and saw an OCD specialist. Basically, it all comes down to accepting uncertainty. Rather than freaking out about your thoughts—like the possibility of being a murderer—you just have to accept them for what they are: just thoughts. I used to try to mentally prove them wrong by ruminating, but it’s like an endless cycle. Instead, you have to tell yourself that the doubt you feel is just your OCD. The key is to accept the uncertainty that you might be a murderer and go on with your life. Anyway, how was your birthday weekend?”
“Only you would confess that you might be a murderer and ask about my birthday in the same breath.”
“I’m not a murderer. But I can’t actually say that…it’s reassurance. My OCD will just try to prove me wrong. So, let’s just assume I might be a murderer and move on.”
“Fine by me. I’ll hide the knives.” I smiled. “Kidding. Thank you for sharing that with me. I bet it’s more common than you think.”
An image of fucking her while she stabbed me in the back flashed before my eyes. Speaking of fleeting thoughts.
“Do you think I’m nuts?” she asked.
“I thought you were nuts way before you confessed your OCD. But it’s all good. I like your brand of nuts—not that hard to crack.”
“So…the birthday…how was it?”
Truthfully, being down in that basement with her was the best part of my birthday weekend. Being able to just relax…talk about anything…even weird shit…I would have chosen laundry with Frankie over most things lately.
“It was alright.”
“Just alright?”
“Torrie had a little party for me, surprised me with some of my friends.”
“That’s nice.”
“Yeah.”
I could always sense her jealousy whenever the subject of my girlfriend came up. I could feel it, even though she obviously didn’t express it. I’d always suspected that Frankie liked me more than just as a friend, but recently, Moses had let it slip that she’d actually said something to him. Even though I wished he’d never said anything to me, deep down, that news wasn’t anything I didn’t already know. He’d said he wasn’t happy about going behind her back but felt it was necessary to make me aware of it so that I would back off a little. It was basically a warning to check myself before I ended up hurting her. But the problem was, I didn’t want to stay away from her. Moreover, I didn’t know how to stay away from her as long as we were living under the same roof.
“That reminds me. I got you a present.” She reached into her laundry basket, picking up a wrapped box.
“Is it Anthrax? After all, you might be a murderer.”
“Not this time.”
I looked at her suspiciously as I ripped the paper. “Buffy the Vampire Slayer, the entire series…holy shit.”
Her face was turning red. “Yup. Thirty-nine discs. Seasons one through seven.”
“You look embarrassed. Were you nervous to give this to me?”
“I didn’t know if you were gonna like it. I remember once you said you used to watch that show when you were younger. At the time, I thought it was pretty much the one thing we had in common. I figured maybe you’d want to take a trip down memory lane.”
“Are you kidding me? This show was the best. When Willow and Oz broke up? I mean, come on!”
“Right?” She beamed.
“Seriously. This was sweet as hell. You didn’t have to do that. Thank you.”
My body stiffened, because I got the urge to hug her but thought better of it. I was afraid of what it would do to me to feel her body against mine. So, I restrained myself. More and more lately, my body was reacting to Frankie without even having to touch her. The physical feelings had been slowly getting stronger over the past month, and even though I knew it was wrong to feel that way, fuck if I knew how to stop it.
“One night this week we should watch an episode,” she said.
“You know, I probably wouldn’t have admitted my addiction to that show to anyone else.”
“But because I’m weird, you know I won’t judge.”
“I used to find you a little weird, yeah, but your quirks have definitely grown on me. In fact, normal things are starting to seem boring in comparison.”
“Welcome to my world.”
“It’s a compliment.”
She blushed as she often did whenever I said anything nice to her. I wondered if she could sense how badly I wished I could kiss her.
Frankie cleared her throat. “So, did you get any other surprises for your birthday?”
“Dad decided to stop by the party for like a half-hour.”
“Was he at least being nicer to you for the occasion?”
“That would’ve been too much to ask, so no, not really. He gave me a pen with Morrison engraved on it, though.”
“S
ounds kind of formal.”
“Yup. Typical Dad gift—cold and boring.”
“Well, you’re his only son. I suppose he knows you’re his only chance to carry on the family name. So, the pen was representative of that.”
“I’m painfully aware that he considers me his only hope to carry on his legacy. The problem is, I’m pretty sure he’s going to end up gravely disappointed. The more time that passes, the more I just don’t see myself following in his footsteps or even working for his administration at all. I haven’t had the balls to really break the news. I’m just glad I had the good sense to major in business undergrad, so I have something to fall back on when he cuts ties.”
“Well, if he truly loves you, he’ll end up supporting your decisions in the end.”
“You hit the nail on the head. I’m not so sure he does…truly love me. I think he cares more about himself and his political endeavors, to be honest.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“The verdict is still out. Honestly.”
Her expression darkened a bit, and it hit me that she might have been thinking about the fact that I shouldn’t have been constantly complaining about my father when she didn’t have one in the picture at all.
I suddenly felt like an ass.
“I’m sorry, Frankie. I’m complaining about my dad again when—”
“I told you not to worry about that.”
“You say it doesn’t matter, but I don’t really believe you. You seem to get sad whenever I bring up my father or ask you about your childhood. It’s not anything you say. It’s just the look on your face. I can see through you.”
She adjusted her purple glasses then looked away from me. “It is what it is. Maybe it does make me a little sad. I just try not to dwell on it.” After a long pause, she added, “It wouldn’t be so difficult if I weren’t reminded of him every time I look in the mirror.”
“You look like him? You never told me that. I thought you said you didn’t know what he looked like.”
“By process of elimination. My mother has dark hair and dark eyes. She once confirmed that he was a ginger like me, had blue eyes like me, too. I look nothing like her, so I just know when I look at myself, that in a way, I’m looking at him. I used to try to find him in my reflection when I was younger. But now that I’m older and know better than to glorify a man who abandoned his own child…I just resent the resemblance. It sucks.”
I wished she could see what I saw whenever I looked at her face: eyes equally full of wonder and humility and a beautiful smile that seemed to be the only medicine I needed lately.
“As someone who’s had the pleasure of knowing you, it’s his loss, Frankie. He just can’t imagine what he’s missing.”
I meant that. She was an extraordinary person. I didn’t think she had too many people in her life ever tell her that.
Her eyes were starting to water. “Great. You just made me cry.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
“You’re not supposed to say things like that. You’re supposed to be an asshole, Mack Morrison.”
“Oh, yeah. Thanks for reminding me.” I wiped her tears with my thumb. “Maybe you’re rubbing off on me.”
“That was the deal when we first met, wasn’t it? I’d rub my pussy on you?”
Fuck. Why did she have to say that? The image that it conjured up made my dick twitch.
I looked away and pondered what the fuck I was doing, letting myself fall for her when I had a girlfriend I wasn’t planning on breaking up with. I couldn’t have it both ways.
Frankie was taking her first load of laundry out of the dryer and stopped to bury her nose in a towel. “When I was younger, I would wait for my mother to throw the warm laundry on the bed. I’d jump in the pile and sometimes fall asleep in it.”
I’d love to fall asleep with you tonight, bury my nose in your chest, bury my dick in your—.
There came another inappropriate fleeting thought.
I felt like such a fucking scumbag lately. But how was I supposed to stop my innermost thoughts? It was impossible to control where my mind went when it came to Frankie. Unlike her OCD, these thoughts were based in reality. I told myself that I just needed to accept that these feelings would be there and that it was okay to have them as long as I didn’t act on them.
Frankie lifted a black shirt from her pile. “What do you think of this with some dark jeans for Friday night?”
“What’s Friday night?”
“I thought Moses said he told you.”
“Told me what?”
“He and I are going on a double date.”
Thinking she was making a joke about dating Moses, I said, “I hate to break it to you, but I’m pretty sure Moses is not interested in vagina.”
“He’s not my date. You know the guy he’s seeing?”
“Yeah, Brad or something?”
“Yes. Well, apparently, he has a brother who’s straight. He’s coming along to meet me.”
My stomach sank.
I swallowed. “Where are you guys going?”
“Not sure.”
My heart felt like it was pounding through my chest. I hadn’t realized how bad I had it for Frankie until that moment. I didn’t even know what to say, because I was afraid my jealousy would be obvious.
“I thought you were allergic to people.”
“Honestly, I’m not really looking forward to it, but I really need to start forcing myself. I haven’t been with anyone in a long time, and the longer I wait, the harder it’s going to be to get back in the game.”
“Do you even know what he looks like?”
“Nope.”
“It’s a blind date?”
“Yup.”
“When you say you haven’t ‘been with someone,’ you mean gone out on a date or had sex?” I cringed at the thought of her letting some guy take advantage of her.
“Both. I miss both.”
Hearing her say that she was essentially longing to be fucked made me ache.
Unsure of what to say, I asked, “When is this date taking place?”
“I already said…Friday.”
I’d lost my ability to think straight. She had already told me it was Friday.
“I’ll get to meet him, then.”
She looked alarmed. “You’re not going to D.C.?”
“Not this weekend, no.”
“Great.”
“Are you nervous that I’m gonna be here or something?”
“Kind of, yeah. You’re very intimidating.”
“Good. He should be very worried if he plans on messing with you.”
She was quiet for a while then surprised me when she suddenly changed the subject and asked, “Does Torrie know about me?”
“What do you mean?” I asked, only to buy myself some time. It truly amazed me that she hadn’t inquired about that sooner.
“Does she know you have a female roommate and that we’re friends?”
In hesitation, I bit my bottom lip. “Not exactly. She knows I have a second roommate named Frankie. She kind of assumed you were a guy. And I sort of…never corrected her.”
“Are you kidding?”
“No.”
“So, it would upset her if she knew you lived with a girl?”
“Upset isn’t the right word. It’s more like…she’d blow her lid.”
“Why didn’t you ever tell me that my being here could be a problem for you? I would’ve looked for another place.”
“It’s not a problem. I love having you here.”
“Yeah, but when she finds out, she’s gonna be pissed.” She stared off in thought. “Is that why you always go there, and she never comes here?”
“No. She never used to come here even before you moved in. She’s not crazy about flying, only does it when she absolutely has to. It would take too long for her to get here by train. So, I just go there. Makes it easier.”
“Can’t you just explain to her that she has nothing
to worry about and that I’m here because Moses took me in? From the pictures I’ve seen of her, I don’t think she’d be threatened by me.”
“Why is that?”
“I mean…look at her. She’s tall and gorgeous. Look at me.”
It pissed me off to hear her say that.
“You think you’re unattractive?”
“I can’t really be the judge of that. I don’t have a clear understanding of how people see me physically. But I’m certain I don’t compare to her.”
You’re right. You don’t.
My heart was pounding because I was dying to tell her what I really thought. I wished things were different, that for even one night I could’ve shown Frankie how attracted to her I was. She had no clue how badly I wanted to taste her lips. Just one taste. What would things have been like if I had been able to just let go of all of my inhibitions? I envisioned backing her up against the washing machine and pressing my erection into her so she could feel how much I wanted her. She’d never doubt my level of attraction to her again. I wished I could just make her feel good, take her body to places I bet it had never gone before.
Listen to yourself.
I needed to be realistic. I wasn’t going to cheat on Torrie. And breaking up with her to somehow be with Frankie would be a mess. My family and Torrie’s were too tied together. I was in too deep and pretty sure my father and her father would make my life a living hell—maybe even make Frankie’s a living hell, too. I couldn’t let that happen. More than that, I didn’t trust myself not to royally screw things up with Frankie, even if the other complications didn’t exist. Her father abandoning her when she was a baby really fucked her up. I couldn’t trust myself not to hurt her. As much as I knew this dilemma would be easier once grad school was over and I didn’t see her every day, I also couldn’t imagine never seeing her again. But that was what it would come to.
Despite everything, I wanted her to realize how beautiful she was, inside and out.
Her voice snapped me out of my thoughts. “Have I lost you?”
“Let me try something, okay?” I took hold of the side braid she was sporting.
“What are you doing?”
“I just want you to see something. Humor me.”
I slowly undid her braid from bottom to top and could feel her breathing quicken the longer I was messing with her hair. When all of the tresses were loose, I ran my fingers repeatedly through her red strands.
Mack Daddy Page 6
