#them... they...

Frankie may not like parties, but he’s always game for a good night at their local bar. Mulligan’s has been the home of many of Frankie’s favorite memories—especially the wilder ones. Of course, he’s never the one at the center of the action. His memories come from his perspective standing at the bar or in a corner, laughing at either Benny or Santiago making an idiot of themselves. Many of those memories come along with Luciana’s laughter in the background, whether she’s standing next to him or joining in the fun. Luciana will let herself be a little looser at bars than at parties, and Frankie doesn’t mind. She never lets herself get out of control.

Luciana’s gone out with her friends outside of the group a few times before, but Frankie never usually caught her leaving or coming back. She’s confessed something about it to him before: she wears different clothing when she’s with the girls, because it’s a different kind of experience. With the guys, she’s not out to impress anybody. With the girls, anything’s fair game.

This has stuck in Frankie’s mind for a reason he refuses to acknowledge.

But now, he’s curious—because Luciana’s coming into the kitchen where everyone’s gathering, and she’s wearing something Frankie would consider to be in her “with the girls” wardrobe. She has a deep v-neck lavender-colored shirt on that hugs to her body and crops just above the waistband of the cut-off denim shorts that are much shorter than anything Frankie remembers seeing her in. He tries not to make his studying of her too obvious, but he can’t help it. He’s not judging—he’s admiring. It’s showing off things Frankie never paid much attention to before. It’s not helping with everything he’s trying to keep buried within.

So, why is she wearing it?

Frankie assumes that Luciana’s probably meeting up with her girl friends at the bar. He feels slightly disappointed at the thought of it, wishing they could stand together and make fun of their idiotic friends, but he also wants her to do whatever she wants to. Frankie wouldn’t hold her back. He could try to keep up with the not-as-drunk-but-still-shitfaced Tom and Will—or stand in the corner on his own. It wouldn’t be the first time in his life he’s done that, and it probably wouldn’t be the last.

“Frankie?” Luciana’s voice suddenly snaps Frankie out of his thoughts, and he blinks a few times before looking to the source. She’s standing a few steps away from him, waving her hand gently under the brim of his hat. “You awake? The night hasn’t even started yet.”

Frankie chuckles, tucking his thoughts away as he focuses on her amused yet concerned gaze. He makes an obvious point to look there and not anywhere else—specifically the assets she has on display. He wouldn’t want to disrespect her. “I’m—yeah, sorry,” Frankie manages to finally answer, watching as Luciana lifts a doubtful eyebrow. “Just thinkin’.”

“About what?” Luciana presses curiously. Her brow then furrows into further concern, and she looks around to make sure the boys are properly distracted before taking a step closer to Frankie. “Are you okay? Do you need to talk?”

Frankie gives her a reassuring smile, feeling a warmth in his chest at her eagerness to comfort him. “I’m alright, Luce,” he assures her softly. “It wasn’t anything bad. I just…” Frankie sighs, trying to find the right words to be honest with her, “… I was wondering if you were meeting up with your other friends.”

Luciana’s face relaxes, and she shakes her head at him as she steps away. “No, we weren’t planning on it. Why?”

Frankie hesitates, trying to think of an excuse quickly. “I—.”

“You’d really miss me that much, Flyboy?” Luciana chuckles, an amused twinkle sparkling in her eye. Frankie nearly breathes a sigh of relief.

“Don’t flatter yourself like that, Luci,” Frankie jokingly scoffs, earning a punch to the shoulder. “Maybe I was hoping I’d get some time away from you.”

“You fucking asshole,” Luciana curses, pushing him backwards a bit as she laughs. Frankie also laughs gently but keeps an eye out to make sure no one’s witnessing the exchange actively. He’s satisfied to see Tom, Will, and Benny lost in their own conversation. Thankfully, Santiago’s usually the last one to come downstairs—who knows how long it takes him to gel his hair just right and put on his four layers of cologne—and so he doesn’t have to worry about increasing his suspicions.

As if on cue, Santiago walks into the kitchen, and everyone grumbles with divine-directed gratitude as they start to file out the door. The bar is on the other side of the street from the dive, and so they all decide to walk there. It’s safer for everyone and it allows them to drink as much as they want. For Frankie, the latter incentive doesn’t factor, but he doesn’t mind the walking; it always calms him.

That is, until he realizes how humid it is. It’s been a little over a week since their last storm, and Frankie wonders if the spring’s about to bring them another one. He even has to undo an extra two buttons on his tropical-printed shirt to allow himself more room to breathe. Sweat has already started to coat everyone’s foreheads, but it remains ignored as the group makes casual conversation.

Once they get to Mulligan’s, the usual routine starts to run. Frankie holds on to his reliable bottle of lite beer while the others down shots to get started. Luciana even joins in with them, and Frankie has to hide his smile at the sight of her having fun with them. He also has to swallow back the way he feels upon seeing her take them so powerfully, as if they don’t affect her at all. She’s even tougher than her brother. Frankie likes tough.

He shakes his head, looking down into his bottle. Frankie has no idea what he’s looking for. Or at least, he wishes he didn’t.

Frankie only looks back up when he feels a hand on his shoulder, and he meets Luciana’s sparkling gaze right away. “You should take one, Frankie!” Luciana encourages him, raising her voice over the hum of the bar’s many guests and the music playing much louder than it probably should.

He laughs and gives his head a shake. “You know me, Luce,” he responds, also having to raise his voice. “That’s not my thing.”

“Just one!” Luciana pushes, giving him a small smile. “I won’t make you do it if you don’t want to, but if you do, you’d only have to do one!”

Frankie sighs softly, searching Luciana’s gaze for a moment. It’s full of such fun, excitement, and hope—hope that Frankie will at least try to take a part in all of that, too. He doesn’t want to let her down. Plus, it’s not like he’s never done a shot before. Maybe he could use a little change. “Alright,” Frankie finally agrees, causing Luciana to whoop in delight. “Hit me with it.”

Luciana leads him closer to where the boys are still going, and they give a loud cheer as Frankie approaches. He tries to keep the heat away from his cheeks, putting his beer bottle onto the bar as he accepts one of the shots that’s sitting there. Before he takes it, Frankie looks over at Luciana, throwing her a wink that he wishes was more confident as he throws his head back and lets the alcohol burn down his throat. He scrunches his nose upon identifying the liquor as tequila. He thought it would’ve been vodka.

“What a fuckin’ legend, Fish!” Benny hollers from behind him, grabbing him by the shoulders and giving his body a few shakes. Frankie laughs at his friend’s dramatic reaction, tipping his hat on his head as he reaches for his beer bottle again. “I bet you could do, like, ten of those in a minute.”

“I probably could,” Frankie agrees, placing his hand on Benny’s shoulder. “But then I’d be dead.”

Benny laughs—harder than he probably should, but Frankie knows his liquor’s already kicking in—and steps away from Frankie. “You’re hilarious, man.”

Frankie shrugs, taking a swig from his bottle as he stays on the outskirts of the group. He watches and rarely comments as they dare each other to drink more or try their luck with girls, witnessing as they slip further and further out of sobriety and start to gravitate towards the livelier part of the bar. Mulligan’s has a larger space left for dancing than most bars, which is part of the reason why the group loves it so much. Frankie’s never partaken in that. He hasn’t wanted to.

Frankie watches as his friends lose themselves in the crowd, some staying together while some split off and find some pretty thing to dance up on. That’s their way of relaxing, enjoying life, and de-stressing. Frankie has other ways, like watching his friends have fun and taking solitary walks. He can’t be as open as they are because he’s closed himself off. Frankie used to be funny and hyper. And then life caught up to him—it surpassed him.

He still hasn’t caught back up to it.

The only thing grounding him has been people like Santiago, Luciana, and the boys. His shell protects him from experiencing any further damage, but he lets them see underneath it. They understand it. They don’t try to peel it away. So, when Frankie stands here and watches his friends dance the night away like he might’ve had life been different, he doesn’t feel left out or sad. He feels… relieved. At peace. Happy that his friends won’t make him feel like he should be doing something he doesn’t want to.

But then Luciana gives his arm a tug, and he looks over to see her glancing up at him with that sparkle in her eyes—and he knows she’s about to ask him something out of the ordinary. It doesn’t anger him, though, or make him uncomfortable. He trusts her. “I love this song,” she tells him, and Frankie tunes in to hear “You Shook Me All Night Long” by AC/DC playing through the speakers. “Will you dance with me?”

Frankie’s eyes widen a bit. “Luce, I… you know I’m not—.”

“I’ll guide you,” Luciana insists. Frankie knows she’s more buzzed than usual—he can tell by the glossier texture of her eyes. But she’s still partially sober. She’s conscious of what she’s doing. And that makes him question things. “Don’t be scared.” Luciana reaches to ease Frankie’s nearly empty bottle onto the bar, taking his hand and gently pulling him in the direction of the dance floor.

“Luci, what about your brother?” Frankie starts to panic. “If he sees us, my ass is grass.” There’s a million other things going through his head right now, and he’s not sure what to do about it. His brain’s screaming at him to remove himself from this situation and think off on his own, but his heart’s telling him to enjoy this moment—like he might’ve used to.

“He’s absolutely hammered and completely invested in that blonde chick over there.” Luciana jerks her head on the opposite side of the dance floor, where Frankie observes Santiago practically falling onto the blonde who’s dancing on him. He lets out a sigh, looking back to see Luciana’s hopeful gaze.

“Alright. I’ll… uh, try.” Frankie often finds himself lacking confidence, but he’s never felt less confident about anything than he does about this. Dancing—with a girl, even if it’s one of his closest friends—is definitely not his strong point. Frankie can feel how stiff he is as he attempts to move in sync with Luciana, who’s easily able to move her body to the beat in ways that have him feeling a little dizzy. All she’s doing is standing right in front of him, and his heart’s beginning to race.

It doesn’t take long for Luciana to pick up on his rigidity, and she lets out a soft laugh as she places her hands on his shoulders. “Hey, it’s alright, Frankie,” she soothes, and Frankie can feel some of the tension roll off his shoulders at her touch. He nearly feels numb when her hands move to his hat, flipping it around on his head so that the brim’s backwards. She then places her hands on the sides of his face to pull his forehead to hers, forcing him to look into her faded yet lively brown gaze. “Relax. It’s just me—just us. Move with me.”

Frankie tries to keep himself from trembling at this odd yet comfortable moment of intimacy. He watches as Luciana releases Frankie’s face and lets them separate again. She turns around so that he’s facing her back, and she looks over her shoulder as she moves to the rhythm of the classic tune. Frankie attempts to mimic her in a masculine way, trying to drown out the rest of the crowd so that he’s only thinking of himself and Luciana. He doesn’t want to share this moment with anybody else, and if he starts thinking of the other people present, he’ll lose the tiny shred of confidence Luciana’s attempting to give him.

The rest of the bar truly disappears the moment Luciana brings herself closer to Frankie, eliminating the gap between them until she’s right up against him. With every movement, she’s brushing up against him, and Frankie’s sure now that it’s not just the exercise of the dancing that’s making his heart beat out of his chest. He doesn’t know what to do—where to look, how to act—and he feels frozen again. Luciana senses this, and Frankie hears her release another chuckle. She reaches over her shoulder with one arm to capture the side of his neck, bringing his ear to her lips as she reassures him. “It’s alright, Frankie.” Luciana pauses, using her free hand to take one of Frankie’s and gently ease it onto her waist. “You can touch me.”

Frankie swallows back his hesitance and does what she says. He lets his other hand meet her waist as well, and soon his grip on her becomes firmer. It feels natural to him. Frankie swelters in the heat of the moment as Luciana leaves her hand on his neck, her lips instead beginning to brush over the perspiring skin of his neck as they keep moving together. He never would’ve expected something like this to feel so right, as if that line between friendship and something more has been blurred for a lifetime. He never would’ve expected he’d be looking down at her like this, admiring the way she moves against his body. He never would’ve expected to be eyeing the way her shorts ride up and reveal more of the assets he’d tried to ignore before, or the view he has down her shirt from this angle.

But what Frankie truly never expected was the way she turns herself around so that her chest is pressed against his, unfastening one more of his buttons before she firmly brushes a hand over the skin there. She’s reciprocating. And that insecure part of Frankie wants to tell himself it’s because she’s had too much to drink or that those shots hit her harder than usual. But he knows that’s not true. He can look into her eyes and see that she’s still there, maybe not completely sober but still entirely aware of what’s happening. Frankie’s always thought she was beautiful—in a way he couldn’t match. He knew that one day, she’d fall into the arms of a man who was equally as attractive. Instead, out of all the people surrounding them at the bar, she’s chosen to dance with him, to give him all of her attention, to make him feel as if he’s the only person in her world.

He can’t process that. Frankie doesn’t make himself process it.

He absorbs the moment he’s in now, losing himself in her gaze as his hands draw her waist even closer to him. Frankie feels bolder now than he ever has before, and he clings to that shred of confidence Luciana’s actions have brought him. He even lets his touch fall a little lower, getting closer to the fringe of her cut-off shorts. Still, Frankie hesitates, wanting to make sure Luciana consents with everything he’s doing. Once he earns a small nod, he lets his hands fall farther, until the soft skin peeking out from under her shorts is brushing against his palms.

The temperature of the bar rises even more now, especially as Frankie hears Luciana release a pleasured sigh at the feeling of his hands against her. Her hands that have come around his neck give the hair peeking out from under his hat a tug, and Frankie tries to bite back a pleasant grunt as his grip on her tightens in response. Luciana draws herself even closer to him, her hands easing his head back down until her lips are brushing against his ear.

“Frankie,” Luciana’s soft voice begins, the tone balancing between something kind and something sensual. It drives Frankie crazy to hear her say his name in such a way. “Has anyone ever told you…” she pauses for a moment, sliding one of her hands onto the skin of his chest and rubbing over it, “…how sexy you are?”

Frankie almost chokes upon hearing the words, but instead he ends up releasing a growl as her one hand grips his hair yet again. He tightens his grasp on her ass in a way that he’s sure will leave marks for at least a few minutes, causing Luciana to hide her face in his shirt-covered shoulder as she releases a half-gasp, half-moan. Frankie doesn’t know whether to blame the liquor or some instinct deep within for the full confidence he’s now gained, especially as he whispers back in her ear. “I only want to hear you say it,” he states lowly, almost like a demand. “As many times as you want to.”

Luciana lifts her face from his shoulder, her eyes darkened so much that they’re almost black. She bats her lashes up at him, and Frankie feels a bead of sweat drip down the side of his head. “I’ll say it as much as you want me to,” she assures him, her hand running over his chest once again before she secures it to the back of his neck. Her eyelids then flutter closed, as if she’s placing herself into a daydream. Frankie brushes his thumbs over the mixture of skin and denim he’s holding in his grasp, causing her to wince in delight as she hides her face in his shoulder again. “Fuck, Frankie.”

“I know,” Frankie assures her, his lips brushing against her ear in the haze of it all. Her body has never stopped moving against his, no matter how firm his grip’s gotten or how many times they’ve spoken to each other—and it’s put Frankie in a daze. This shouldn’t feel so right. This is something Frankie didn’t even know he had buried deep within him. This is an admiration for one of his closest friends that he never knew existed—or at least, that he attempted to keep under lock and key. Now, it’s loose, and Frankie doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to put it back in its cage again.

And then, just as suddenly as the long moment began, it ends. Luciana turns her head rapidly to the side, and Frankie follows her stare to see her brother and the other guys starting to head back in their direction. They separate quickly upon noticing that, and neither one of them speak as they help the stumbling men get back to the house safely.

The whole way there, Frankie can still feel himself buzzing from the excitement of what he and Luciana just shared. At the same time, he can’t stop worrying about it. Things have to change now. They can’t deny the way they just acted with each other, the things they just revealed without even having to say the words. What’s brewing between them goes deeper than friendship—even deeper than the plain admiration Frankie thought he held for Luciana, and vice versa. This was more than a “date” for milkshakes at the dive. This was more than a night spent in Frankie’s truck eating pizza and listening to classic rock. This was touching, and gasping, and confessing, and bringing each other to a feeling that’s not easy to come back from. Frankie can only hope he hasn’t ruined things for them by giving into these tensions.

He’s afraid he has up until they start to get settled in for the night. When the boys are properly distracted by completely passing out in their beds—though Bennie only made it to the couch, and needed to be dragged up the stairs—Frankie passes Luciana in the hallway and has his arm caught by her hand. He immediately stops, looking her in the eye to see nothing but the same fondness she’d shown him moments before the heat intensified at the bar. Frankie relaxes as he waits for her to speak.

“Thank you, Frankie,” Luciana whispers, trying to make sure the guys—regardless of their states of consciousness—don’t hear what she’s saying, “for such a fun night. I’m glad you loosened up. I had a really good time.”

Frankie ends up biting back a smile at her words, taking a moment to form his own in his head. “I should be thanking you for helping me to loosen up,” he retorts, earning a smile from Luciana. “I had a good time, too—a great time, actually.”

Luciana says nothing, choosing only to widen her smile and give his arm a gentle squeeze before she walks off towards her room. Frankie stares after her for just a moment, letting his eyes soak in that final view of her assets before he disappears inside his own room. He flops onto his bed and releases an airy sigh, staring at the ceiling and letting his smile grow.

Frankie wonders if this is what it feels like to finally fly, because he’s sure his spirits have never risen higher than they have right now.

next part: chapter 4: dark clouds

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