still no reason to take it out on me

She’s stopped sobbing, but doesn’t budge from where she’s curled into Frank’s chest. He’s rubbing her back and his hand is so warm through her thin cotton top. Before this happened, she hadn’t even had a chance to do her braid. Some of her hair was wet from her tears and snot.

“What were you going to do with that girl?” She says that girl with as close to vitriol she ever gets, which is flat and short, tension wrought into her words.

She’s so jealous and she knows he can tell. She doesn’t know why, but she felt like her heart was breaking clean in half watching that girl hold her brother’s face from underneath him, pushing aside his sweaty hair, seeing him like that, just the two of them—it wasn’t right. He knew that.

“Francis,” she whines, anxious. “Tell me.”

Frank looks down at her and pulls her head back by her hair. They make eye contact and he smiles, like he’s had an idea.

“I could show you, Mels,” he whispers to her, suddenly nose to nose, hand sliding down her back to her hips, holding her in a way he hasn’t before.