Hold on to Hope

To touch her and love her.

Take it all because I wouldn’t settle for anything less.

Managing a grin, I gestured to my raging hard on. “Think I’m going to need a cold shower.”

I helped her down onto unsteady feet, the girl’s eyes still unfocused while I reached over and turned on the showerhead.

She blinked incoherently, her head slowly shaking like she was trying to find a new foundation after the one we’d been standing on had been demolished. I leaned down and let my mouth brush across the shell of her ear. “Getting to touch you again, Frankie Leigh? It’s the best feeling in the world. But I want you to know . . . no matter what happens, you will always be my best friend.”

Turning, I stepped into the spray of the shower, letting the frosted door swing shut behind me.

I struggled to kick the lust that was still raging through my body.

Mind told me to wait, but the rest of me was figuring we’d wasted enough time.

A rush of that energy slammed me from behind, the girl a windstorm, a tornado and the softest, coolest breeze. She slipped into the shower, and I slowly turned around to face her, and Frankie was climbing down to her knees.

The spray pounded into my back. Only a slight drizzle made it onto her body.

She stroked me once, looked up at me with those cinnamon eyes, the lapping darkness filled with emotion. Drawing me into their depths. Right where I wanted to drown.

“You will always be my best friend, Evan. My first love and my last. You will always be my everything.”

And then Frankie took me into her mouth, silencing everything but the bliss of her touch.

Eighteen

Frankie Leigh

Eight Years Old

Jeers echoed through the air, rolling over the field at the back of the school.

“Haha . . . that’s right, run away, you freak.”

“Run off and cry, you pussy!”

“He’s such a pussy, he’s probably really a girl.”

Frankie stood at the edge of the sidewalk that led to the trail where they normally met to walk home. Evan wasn’t in their meeting spot. He was in middle school now, sixth grade, and he always waited for her right there.

Not today.

Her stomach twisted with that nasty sickness that made her feel like she was going to throw up, a pool of black dread, and her eyes immediately searched, terrified these boys were talking about Evan.

That dread nearly spilled all the way out when she saw he was already all the way down by the fence, walking faster than normal, like he wanted to run but wanted to pretend like he didn’t care about anything at the same time.

His backpack bounced fitfully with each of his hard steps while the ugly words were spewed at his back.

She was happy Evan couldn’t hear what they were saying, but she was bettin’ that he’d heard plenty enough when he’d been looking at their gross faces. She bet all these stupid jerks had said all kinds of things that made her want to rip them to shreds.

This feeling crawled over her body. Like she couldn’t breathe and couldn’t see and the only thing she wanted was to make them cry when they kept shouting horrible things at her best friend.

They were huddled in a circle over by the swings. She was already moving that way. “Shut up, you stupid buttholes!” she yelled.

Brent swiveled around to face her. He was the meanest of the mean. Her daddy told her to stay far, far away from him, but she didn’t care. She was going to teach him a lesson once and for all.

“Awww . . . look . . . the poor freak needs a little girl to stick up for him. Talk about pathetic,” he taunted, cracking up with laughter when he did.

Without giving it a thought, she shrugged out of her backpack, letting it thud to the ground behind her as she started to race their direction. A roar came up her throat like thunder rolling through the air. “You stupid bullies.”

“Ha . . . look at her . . . freaks actually do stick together. Check this weirdo out. Thinks she’s tough.” He gestured at her like he thought it was funny.

Frankie wasn’t laughing.

She didn’t slow. She attacked. Jumped on him, scratching and clawing and kicking as best as she could.

In less than a second, he’d shoved her off, and she stumbled back, landing on her butt on the hard winter ground.

“What the hell?” he spat. “Are you crazy?”

Jumping up before he expected her to, she grabbed his arm and bit down hard. Until she could tell she was breaking the flesh of his wrist and making him bleed, the taste of a penny filling her mouth.

He’d see who to make fun of now.

He jerked back, swearing like a sailor. “Motherfucker. You bitch. I’m bleeding. You are fucking crazy. You’re lucky my dad would kick my ass if I hit a girl.”