Home > Franco (Bright Side #3)(6)

Franco (Bright Side #3)(6)
Author: Kim Holden

"Night, Gem."

Her fingers wiggle a goodbye before the door shuts.

Fucking hell.

That's all I'm thinking.

Fucking hell.

I feel like I've lost it.

And not in a bad way.

I have to close my eyes for a minute and regain my senses because she's stripped me down in such a basic elemental way. A few hours ago I wasn't thinking about much, just trying to clear my mind and have a good time out with the boys. And then Gemma appears and blows everything apart like a grenade. I felt her with everything inside me. It was like she set fire to a pile of kindling with her presence and I was standing right in the middle of the pyre, being devoured quickly and thoroughly.

And now I can't think about anything else but her.

She makes me happy.

And horny.

And everything else in between.

I can't wipe the smile off my face. I usually smile. But this? This is the kind of smile that will take hours to fade. My cheeks hurt already. And I fucking love it.

When I return to the bar Jamie and Robbie rib me. I don't give it back. I don't give them anything except my gigantic Gemma-induced smile. And they laugh at me. And I don't fucking care.

We drink another round. Or three.

Jamie and Robbie play another round of pool. Or three.

It's late, or rather early when we head back to the apartment. I've had my fill of alcohol and I'm relaxed. My extremities feel loose and detached as if sleep is already settling in, but the core of me, my mind and my organs, are still buzzing with the excitement of the evening.

The boys are still giving me shit as I unlock the door of our apartment and we're all laughing as we walk in. For a second I think I should shush them, because we're all drunk, and loud, and Gus is probably sleeping, until Gus walks out of the kitchen in his underwear carrying a glass of milk. And the sly smile on his face tells me he's up to something. Or was up to something. It's obvious he's had a stellar night too.

"You should've come with us tonight, scrote. I met a wild little strawberry blond from Northern England named Gemma. She's got a penchant for leopard print, You Me At Six, and gin. She's perfect. Got her number. A good time was had by all." I'm phishing. I know if I share, so will he and I want to know what that goddamn smile means. I love seeing him this happy again. And then I catch a whiff of something heavenly, and I know exactly who put that smile there and what he's been up to. And my stomach is growling because I know there are cookies in this apartment. And I know who baked them. Which means they're the most delicious cookies within a five hundred mile radius, because that girl can bake. I need cookies. "Was Scout here? Where're the cookies?"

Jamie breaks me from my bloodhound-like response to the scent when he says, "Holy shit, what happened to the table? And the wall?"

I look down to the small table next to the door, and the drywall is history. It took some punishment from the table, which looks like it didn't fare so well either.

Gus's eyebrows lift in an admission of irreproachable guilt. The guy never hides anything, I love that about him. He's the real deal and doesn't hide from what's going on in his mind. It reflects in his expressions because he doesn't filter. He doesn't mask. "Girl Scout may have stopped by tonight to deliver some cookies."

That explains the property damage. The table versus drywall debauchery makes perfect sense now, Scout didn't make it two steps inside the door before it was on like Donkey Kong. Good for him. Good for them. But I poke him anyway because it's kind of my job as his best friend. "That doesn't explain the property damage."

He raises his glass of milk and shrugs in true Gus, easygoing form and says, "Let's just say they were really good cookies. Excellent even. Probably the best cookies I've ever had," as he walks away in victory toward his bedroom.

And fucking hell.

Now I'm thinking about Gemma again.

And how I would give anything...anything...to taste her cookies.

Friday, January 19

(Franco)

We've been in the studio all day. And all day I've been on my game, focused on the music. But the moment we all climb in my truck to head back to the apartment I'm thinking about Gemma. And the fact that she's the first woman in a long time to wind me up like this.

I know she's only here for a few more days, but I can't stop thinking about her. And I don't think last night was a one-sided attraction; that kiss was a sincere connection. A physical act so blistering it couldn't have been faked. She was into me.

Fuck it.

I'm texting her when we get home.

I text from my truck in the apartment parking lot, Dinner tonight? because apparently, I'm already obsessed with this woman and can't wait another two minutes until I'm inside.

I'm holding my phone in my hand, staring at the screen, like some lovelorn sap from a chick flick, waiting for an immediate response. "Chill the fuck out, dude," I say it out loud. It's a reminder to stop acting like a goddamn hyper puppy.

My phone pings in my hand before I step over the threshold, so I shut the apartment door and step back out into the parking lot. I close my eyes and take a deep breath because my heart is racing in my chest. It's that rare pounding that reminds me that I'm alive, and more than that, it reminds me that another human being can create need and want and lust in an instant so intense that it's a drumroll beneath my ribs. It should be terrifying, but it's not.

Gemma: I've eaten. I have leftovers if you want to come over.

   
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