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The cool breeze carried the briny scent of the ocean, making the fire flicker as you stared into it. The bright light felt like it was burned into your corneas, but you couldn’t look away as it twisted and danced before you. You were already more than a few drinks in, your body warm and languid as you settled into the patio chair.
You blinked, your gaze swept over the thinning circle of people before you landed on the man next to you. Francisco… or Frankie… or Catfish–you weren’t exactly sure. You tended to settle on Frankie.
Ben had brought you along to a get-together with his army friends and respective plus ones in Saint Pete: they’d rented a house that was just a ten minute walk from the beach. You had an extra pull-out couch with your name on it for just the price of some food and alcohol. It was a no-brainer to tag along.
“Hey, nena, it’s your turn.”
His brown eyes looked like caramel in the firelight, his body angled toward yours as he spoke. You’d only met him yesterday, but he seemed nice enough. Definitely more of the drinking type, so you were peas in a pod.
“Sorry,” you breathed, wiping the excess hard cider off your bottom lip as you crossed a leg underneath yourself. You’d taken one of the blankets from inside with you, draping it over your shoulders like a cloak. All eyes were on you, reminding you of the hands that were held up, various amounts of fingers remaining. You still had all five.
Never Have I Ever was a stupid game anyways.
“Um, well...” you tried to think of something that wasn’t pathetically uptight. You took a deep breath, your cheeks warm as you stared at the fire. “Never have I ever… been in a helicopter.”
You already knew the reaction you would get.
“Oh come on,” Ben sighed, his third finger folding over his palm.
“I’m literally a fucking helicopter pilot, s’not fair,” Frankie complained, chugging the rest of his drink as his last finger went down—hand in a loose fist for a moment.
The rules were shaky when it came to what to do when you reached the end of your allotted fingers, everyone had just settled on finishing their drink. Frankie grabbed a new beer from the cooler next to him, twisting the cap off and taking a sip before stretching his hand open again.
It was just the three of you left, the others having gone to bed but leaving their patio chairs and empty drinks like sentinels in their absence.
“Never have I ever banged a football player,” Ben said as soon as Frankie had his new drink open.
You chuckled, rolling your eyes. “Now that is a low blow,” you said, putting your thumb down. Playing games like that with Ben was never fun–the two of you had known each other since you were kids. You could exchange pointed shots all night at one another if you wanted to. “And I hardly call losing your virginity to a benchwarmer banging a football player.”
The laughs at your expense made you scoff. You took a drink of your cider to hide the flash of embarrassment on your face. “None of us even knew he was talking to you,” Ben said, snorting softly, “we didn’t think the kid had enough fire in him to handle you.”
“Well, I was stupidly waiting for another guy but settled for the first boy who was nice to me,” you mumbled in a sorry attempt to defend yourself, your face warm from more than just the alcohol.
Ben hummed his acknowledgement, eyebrows lifting. “Oh yeah, this super secret high school crush that you refuse to tell us about.”
You could feel Frankie cast a knowing look in your direction, one eyebrow quirked.
“Yeah because even though I’m over it you would make a big deal out of it because you know the guy,” you said, finishing your drink. You got up to get one from the cooler next to Frankie, hoping he would decide to take his turn already and change the subject of discussion.
Ben snorted, crushing his empty cup in a hand as he stood. “Whatever you say,” he acquiesced, stretching. Your gaze found the strip of skin that revealed itself as his shirt rode up, staring for a bit too long before you got a hold of yourself.
“Well, crazy kids, I’m going to bed.” Ben crushed you in a side hug, ruffling your hair despite your sound of annoyance. “Don’t let Fish keep you up all night, he’s a bad influence,” he said, hand rubbing over the cap of your shoulder as he stuck his tongue out at the other man.
“Psh. Don’t listen to him, nena, I’ll take good care of you,” Frankie protested, his lip twitched into a smirk as he gulped his beer.
“I think I’m plenty capable of handling myself,” you murmured, waving them both off with a hand. “Goodnight, Bennie.”
He wished you both a goodnight before disappearing into the house, you could hear the squeal of the sliding glass door closing behind him.
You lowered yourself into your deck chair, shifting it so you better faced Frankie at an angle. He still had his baseball cap on, strands of his dark hair curling around his ears and the nape of his neck. His cheeks were rosy from drinking, his smile a bit broader now.
“Whaddya say we keep playing?” Frankie suggested, watching you open your bottle. The condensation wet your fingertips, your nail picking at the softening label.
You were still too wired to go to bed. If you turned in you’d just be restless and on your phone until you finally passed out.
“Alright, fine,” you said, tapping your fingertips on the metal armrest of the chair. A smile found its way to your face, your five fingers stretching out. Frankie did the same, you could see the calluses on his fingers and palm.
“Never have I ever… skinny dipped.”
Of course Ben had told the story—your group of friends had decided to go skinny dipping in the nearby lake. But the moon wasn’t even out and no one could see much of anything. “I was in high school and it was dark,” you defended, putting your thumb down.
Frankie looked like he was the cat that caught the canary, drinking with you even though he didn’t have to.
“Okay, never have I ever played strip poker.”
He put a finger down. “Well I know what I’m making everyone play for tomorrow’s entertainment,” he said, taking a long gulp of his beer. “You’ve gotta let loose a little.”
Your face was hot, part of you wishing the ground opened beneath you and swallowed you whole. He loved to tease, his sarcastic tone making your stomach flip every time you heard it.
You gently shoved his chair with your foot, making it scrape over the paving stones. “I am loose enough,” you argued.
—
A snort pulled from you, morphing into a too-loud laugh. The empty bottles were nearly overflowing the side table you and Frankie were discarding them on. Both of you had finished your drinks of choice and resorted to passing a cheap bottle of wine back and forth, staining your lips purple.
“It was only one time, and you have to understand that I was so damn exhausted,” Frankie explained, leaning toward you as he spoke. His laugh belied his attempt at seriousness, his dimple showing as he snickered.
“You fell asleep during sex!” You let your head fall back against the chair, looking at the stars above you. They swam a bit. “That is kind of hard to do.”
“It’ll happen to you someday, nena, and you’ll think of this conversation.”
You snorted, rolling your eyes as you snatched the wine bottle from him, bringing it to your lips. The glass was cool against your mouth as you drank a swallow, just enough to warm your belly and keep your buzz. More than a buzz if you were honest with yourself.
“Never have I ever had sex with someone to make someone else jealous,” you countered, a knowing smirk on your face.
Frankie rolled his eyes, scoffing. “I didn’t realize that Ben was telling you all of our secrets.” He pulled his hat off his head for a moment, running his hand through his hair before replacing it. “Gonna kick his ass as soon as he wakes up.”
You wet your lips, trying to cover your giggles. “In his defense, he never thought we would meet,” you muttered, leaning against the armrest of the chair.
The fire was dwindling in the pit, casting tangerine-colored light across the two of you. Frankie said he’d put more wood on twenty minutes ago, but neither of you cared enough to actually do it.
“Well, it wasn’t my proudest moment,” he muttered, shaking his head. “This girl I was kind of seeing had been flirting with this other guy the whole fucking time we were out and I just lost it. Got a different girl to very publicly go to the bathroom with me.”
“So not only were you disgusting—you were disgusting in the bathroom of some bar?”
“Hey, hey, no need to judge me so hard,” he said, putting both hands up like he was pretending to be innocent.
Your eyes narrowed slightly, evaluating him. He had a similar relaxed posture, slumped against his chair in his white shirt and gray sweatpants. It was a miracle that he hadn’t spilled any wine on himself yet.
“I’ve just never been so desperate for someone’s attention,” you said, sitting mightily on your high horse.
That made Frankie guffaw, sitting up suddenly. “Oh yeah? Never have I ever had a crush on my childhood neighbor,” he said, a shit eating grin on his face as he scratched at the patchy beard on his jaw.
You could feel yourself stiffen, giving yourself away without meaning to. “I… I do not have a crush on Ben,” you protested, crossing your arms over your chest.
“Oh sure you don’t, nena,” he said, making you want to reach out and smack him. “Oh Bennie this and oh Bennie that, the only way it would be more obvious is if you had big fucking hearts in your eyes… well obvious to everyone except him.”
Apparently your embarrassment was loud and clear anyways, your attempts to be nonchalant failing miserably.
“Don’t be embarrassed,” Frankie said, trying to placate you.
You scoffed, standing up as you drank a bit too much wine from the bottle, the excess dripping down the corner of your mouth. “Don’t be embarrassed? I just found out that everyone has been watching me be a huge fucking idiot this whole time!”
He stood with you, hands smoothing over your shoulders as he crowded into your space. “I’ve got an idea if you’re game,” he said, catching your attention again.
“What?”
“Well… we could kill two birds with one stone, ya know?” It must have been clear that you didn’t know what he meant. “We can make Ben jealous… and cross something off your ‘Never Have I Ever’ bucket list.”
Your brow furrowed as you considered what he was saying. His hands rubbed down your arms, gently pulling the wine bottle from your fingers. He took a swig before setting it with the empty bottles, making them clink against one another.
Then it all clicked.
“You want to have sex?”
Frankie laughed, his big hands finding the flare of your hips. “I thought Ben said you were smart,” he teased, his forehead bumping against yours as he shuffled in closer.
You clicked your teeth at him. “I’m drunk… so what’s in it for you then?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” he asked, a smile lifting his lip. “I get to have sex, that’s more than enough reason for me to want to do it.”
You let out something between a laugh and a sigh, shaking hour head as you lightly smacked his chest. “Men are ridiculous,” you mumbled, grinning softly as you looked up at him.
Frankie was smiling, showing off his straight white teeth in the light of the dying fire and blue glow coming from the in-ground pool. He moved closer, his aquiline nose nudging against yours. You were close enough to feel the warmth of his breath on your face, smell the wine he just drank.
“Just tonight?” you asked, one eyebrow arched.
He nodded obligingly, grin growing impossibly wider. “I don’t catch feelings.”
You were drunk enough to think it was a brilliant plan—it would be impossible for Ben not to jealous if he heard you and Frankie next door. The idea was foolproof. “Okay, then let’s do it.”
—
Frankie’s room was just next to Ben’s, the two of you giggling with bottles of wine in hand as you followed after him. He’d grabbed an additional bottle from the kitchen when you snuck back inside to have on standby, the remaining quarter of the first bottle still sloshing around in yours.
You stood on your tiptoes to kiss him as you opened his bedroom door. He grabbed you around the waist and pulled you inside, slamming the door shut behind you both. “Frankie!” you scolded between kisses, mortified that you were being loud.
“Waking him up is the point, nena,” he said, half carrying you to the bed. You rolled your eyes, holding the bottle for him to drink from before he confiscated both and set them on the nightstand. “C’mon, loosen up for me.”
He leaned down to capture your lips, messily licking into your mouth. You could taste the wine on his tongue, making you hum as you returned the gesture.
“Get this stupid thing off,” you muttered against his lips, knocking his hat off and foraging your fingers in his thick curls. You gently tugged at his roots, making him groan as he smashed you into the mattress with his weight.
“Thought you liked the hat,” he said with a chuckle deep in his chest, pushing the offending accessory the rest of the way off the bed.
You desperately pulled him back to you, hitching one leg around his hip as his arm flattened near your head for support. “Fancy restaurant rules. Definitely not allowed in the bedroom,” you said with a smirk. He huffed his disagreement against your jaw, shaking his head as his blunt teeth scraped over the thin skin.
It was messy. Tongues meeting and teeth clashing and nails scratching over fabric and skin alike. Playfully suggestive hums and giggles filled the quiet of the room. You were sure you were disrupting the rest of the house, Frankie’s bedroom right in the center of it.
The alcohol made everything so easy, whisking away your shirt and sweatpants before you even realized. You took Frankie’s shirt along with them, tossing it somewhere in his room.
He nudged your chin up with his nose, his tongue flattening over your windpipe. Your breath tripped, eyes squeezing shut. Admittedly, it had been a while for you. Everything he was doing was making your head spin.
The kiss turned sloppy with tongue as he traced his thumb beneath the waistband of your panties. Your manicured nails traveled over the expanse of his bare chest, following the soft ridges of the lean muscle and stray scars to the line of dark hairs beneath his navel. It was your guiding beacon, your fingers following it to the elastic waist of his sweatpants.
“Off,” you asked softly, snapping the elastic against the thin layer of pudge on his belly. “Please.”
He obliged quickly, pulling you up with him as he got off the bed to ungracefully shove them down his legs and kicked them somewhere into the room. Tight black boxer briefs hugged his quads, stretching as he knelt onto the mattress.
“C’mere, nena,” he practically growled, grabbing your thighs as he yanked you up onto his lap. You yelped, giggling as your legs bent at the knee and toes anchored against the duvet. His fingers sunk into your ass, dimpling the soft flesh as he held you close.
One hand skated up your spine, unlatching your bra easily. You cackled, leaning back as he pulled the straps down your arms and tossed it aside. “Didn’t know you were such a slut, Frankie,” you murmured, smirking as he palmed at your freed tits. Your nipples were pinched between his forefinger and thumb, making you arch toward him. “Unhooking a girl’s bra with one hand?”
He muffled your words with more kisses, stamping his lips over yours. “That takes some practice–should I be impressed or disgusted?”
“You never fucking shut up, do you?” Frankie asked good-naturedly, nipping at your lower lip as one hand smoothed against the small of your back. He pulled you close, squeezing your ass as he leaned forward to devour you further. You tittered, your forearm pressed against the nape of his neck as the scoop of your palm found the patchy beard at his jaw. Your hips rolled into his, nose pressing against his cheek as you smacked wet kisses on him.
“I’m not well-known for being quiet.”
The world spun around you before your back hit the mattress, the memory foam absorbing most of the impact. His rough fingers pulled your panties off in a smooth motion, his palms finding the insides of your thighs and pressing them apart.
“I’m counting on that,” he murmured as he kissed his way to the echo of your heartbeat, sucking small welts into the flesh of your inner thighs.
You were stunned into breathlessness, propped on one elbow as you watched him map closer and closer to the ache between your legs. He breathed in deep as he hovered just above your cunt–something that would have mortified you if you were any less drunk, but it only made you moan.
The tip of his nose brushed your clit, making your pelvis jump toward his face. “You have a gorgeous pussy,” he said dreamily, the drunken slur finally making itself apparent in his voice. He parted your slit with his strong tongue, making your eyes roll back in your skull before he fully dove in.
Your fingers clutched desperately at his hair, your breaths choking in your throat as your brows knit together. He made out with your cunt, a soft rumble in his chest making his mouth vibrate against you.
Infatuation and desire consumed you, leaving you dizzy. His cheeks were flushed pink and his hair ruffled as his hands splayed wide across your thighs. You eagerly lifted your hips to his mouth as much as you could, whining as he lapped up the entirety of your sex, suckling at your clit each time before repeating the motion.
You found yourself thanking the attention to detail he was taught in the military: he picked up on every time your breath hitched or your voice became a whine and he made it happen again. And again. And again. To the point that you could feel just how soaked you were, not even the pace of Frankie’s tongue fast enough to keep your slick arousal from dripping to the duvet.
You’d never been so turned on in your life.
“Fuck,” you keened, the word tight in your chest as the oxygen left the room. You gripped his hair tighter, hips twitching. The tip of his finger pressed at your entrance, making your cunt flutter around the temptation of being full. His groan was muffled, met by your own grateful whimpers.
His jaw went slack, framing the entirety of your cunt as he pressed all of his weight into eating you out. The swirl of his tongue churning his saliva with each motion made you want to die.
Brown eyes met your half-lidded gaze from between your thighs. You were shocked to see just how pleased he looked, feasting upon you with the desperation of a starving man. Frankie had seemed like a lot of things, but a munch was not high on your list. Thank god you were wrong.
“You’re going to make me come so fast,” you gasped, almost embarrassed by how quickly you felt like your whole body was buzzing. Almost pathetically fast.
Steady presses of his tongue devolved into wet kisses sucked between your lips. You pressed the curls of his hair back from his forehead, a few beads of sweat dripping from his hairline. Soft lips wrapped around your swollen clit and sucked, bringing you to rapture as the tip of his tongue batted the sensitive bud.
It took one wet swirl around your clit to shatter you, your orgasm ripping through you. A wail escaped you before you clapped a hand over your mouth–even if you wanted Ben to know, you didn’t want to wake up the rest of the house.
Frankie grabbed the fat of your ass with both hands, pulling your cunt to his mouth as he licked you into oversensitivity. He didn’t stop until you were twitching with discomfort, pushing his forehead away.
He sat back, his facial hair shining wetly in the moonlight before he wiped it off on the back of his hand.
You were a panting mess, hardly able to think as he moved toward you. He massaged your buzzing skin with his big, warm hands, coaxing your soul back into your body. “You’re such a good girl,” he murmured quietly, his gaze steady as he watched you tremble.
The compliment split you open, endless hunger spilling out as you reached for him. You knew you wouldn’t be satisfied without having him inside you.
You could see the outline of his hard cock in his underwear, your free hand rubbing over it as he settled between your bent legs. The feeling of his weight above you helped your lungs find their rhythm as you pressed your thumb to the wet spot at his tip.
“So I’m that good, huh?” he teased, his voice unsteady as he started to grind himself against your hand.
Your laugh was breathless, your face on fire as you looked up at him. “I think all the booze helped, made me sensitive,” you said, your tone raspy and soft as your hand slipped into his boxer briefs.
The way his expression crumpled as your fingers curled around his shaft was delightful. A self-satisfied grin bloomed on your face as you started to stroke him, watching him through your lashes. His hips bunched into your hand, his forehead dropping to yours as he let out a groan.
“Shit,” he panted, one hand fisting in the white duvet. You relished in the way he already sounded wrecked. “I’ve gotta fuck you before you make me come in my boxers like some teenager.”
He grabbed your wrist, pulling you away from him before clumsily removing his underwear. The sight of his cock made your throat go dry, tip red and leaking. He looked painfully hard, curved up toward his stomach and a little to the left from a trimmed patch of dark, curly hair.
“Hands and knees, nena,” Frankie murmured, playfully swatting the outside of your thigh. “Wanna see that fat ass of yours–been staring at it ever since you got here.”
Your face was hot as you rolled over, spine arching like a cat’s as you settled on your forearms and knees. He grabbed you by the hips, yanking you where he wanted you: facing the arched mirror on the dresser. The sight of yourself made your arch deepen, your chest pressed to the bed as you presented yourself to him like a gift.
“Jesus,” he groaned, softly smacking your ass before he grabbed a handful of the soft flesh, shaking it. There was something close to reverence in his expression as you watched him spread your cheeks, dark eyes focused on your pussy. His thumb gently ghosted over your slit in a way that made you whine.
“Frankie, stop teasing,” you said impatiently, glaring at him in the mirror.
“Fine, fine, calm down,” he breathed, his knees finding their place between yours as his cock notched in the cleft of your ass. He rocked there for a moment before pulling back enough to ease into you with careful rolls of his hips. One hand planted between your scapulae, the other clutching your hip as you both exhaled your satisfaction with every inch of delicious friction.
It took you both a few moments to adjust, your went cunt finally relaxing enough to let Frankie fit entirely inside of you. He shushed you softly as you whined, barely fucking his cock into you as he rubbed circles over your vertebrae.
You rocked back against his thrusts, falling into a steady rhythm as the sound of your sweat-dampened skin smacking together filled the room. His hand moved from your back to the nape of your neck, grabbing a handful of your hair and tilting your head to make you look at him through the reflection of the mirror. The grip at your scalp was almost comforting as you melted into the sensation.
“You’re so fucking pretty,” he murmured low in his throat, his gaze taking in every detail of your reflection. Your flushed cheeks, your parted lips, your lidded eyes. Your hair was twisted around his fist, ass jiggling with every connection of your hips.
It was hard to keep your eyes open, moaning wantonly as you kept your gaze on Frankie. Your expression was pornographic–enamored and thoroughly pleased as he stretched you open on his cock.
He curled his body over yours, meeting you at his waist and shoulders as his lips found the back of your neck and shoulders. “Ben must be a damn idiot to not see how pretty you are,” he murmured, sucking marks into your neck. You were too lost in the pleasure of the head of his cock carving deep into you to respond.
“Squeezing me so tight, nena,” he grunted into your ear, his hot breath making shivers prickle up your spine. His hold on your hair kept you in place. “This is the sweet little pussy of my dreams, milking me so good.”
Frankie kept running his mouth, spewing filth and praise that made you melt into a puddle beneath him. You were possessed with pleasure, almost drooling as you whimpered and moaned.
His hand left your hip, weight pressing you even deeper into the mattress as his arm wrapped around you. You sobbed as his fingers skated over your belly, pressing against your swollen clit and rubbing tight circles against it.
“Frankie, right there,” you gasped, fingers bunching up the duvet as you tried to breathe through the sensitivity, still tingling from your last orgasm.
“Greedy girl…” he chastised, chuckling into your ear as he kept working your clit without mercy.
Your cunt was fluttering around his cock, your sounds becoming louder and more wanton. He exhaled through his teeth with each thrust, his breaths sharp and punctuated in your ear. “Frankie,” you moaned–his name being one of the few words you could even think of.
“That’s it, let ‘im know who’s giving it to you so good.”
Oh yeah.
You were still trying to make Ben jealous. The thought had slipped your mind entirely as you felt Frankie’s cock press over every slippery ridge inside your cunt, setting your body alight.
Who knew if Ben was even listening, if he was even awake.
You repeated Frankie’s name like a prayer on your lips, further and further gone the closer you got to your orgasm. He yanked your hair gently, making your eyes flutter open again to look up at him through the reflection.
His lips were moving, cursing in Spanish as his jaw clenched so hard you could see it flex beneath his beard. You could tell he was close, too, starting to lose his steady rhythm as he sped up. Bruising kisses were pressed to your neck and shoulder, his cock splitting you open with frantic thrusts.
Then he started to beg, almost making you black out. “Come for me, nena. Come all over my cock. I wanna feel you come all over me, squeezing me so damn tight.”
His thick fingers were still rubbing your clit, coaxing you further and further to the edge. Spanglish filled your ears as he grunted and groaned, clearly holding back until you finished first.
“Frankie! Oh my god!”
Euphoria left you strung out, ripping at the seams of your sanity as your pussy spasmed hard around his cock. Frankie turned your head by tugging on your hair, contorting you so he could smash his lips to yours as his hips started to stutter. You felt him pulse inside you, groans muffled between your mouths as his come spilled inside your cunt like lava.
You wilted together, exhaustion and drunkenness catching up to you as you collapsed to the bed in a heap of limbs and sweat and come. It would be smart to get up, to clean yourself up and go sleep on the couch. But you were already so comfortable, Frankie nestled close to your back as he started to softened inside you.
“M’I sleeping here?” you asked, already yawning as you and Frankie lay on your sides. He reached for the throw on the end of the bed, yanking the fuzzy blanket up and over the two of you.
He kissed your shoulder, nuzzling into your neck.
“Of course, nena, you gotta come out of my room in the morning for this to work,” he muttered against your skin, yawning in response to you.
This. The plan. You could hardly consider it as sleep pulled you under.
–
The morning light woke you up, making you groan as you rolled over to bury your face in Frankie’s neck. He stirred as you did, a hand running over your hip to placate you as he pulled you closer. “Morning, nena,” he murmured, voice raspy from sleep.
You hid from the sun in his clavicle, the warmth of his skin seeping into you. “What does nena even mean?” you asked after a few moments, voice sounding muffled.
Frankie’s hand ran up and down your side, clipped nails making goosebumps lift on your arms. “Means baby.”
It was simple enough. Just a normal nickname.
But you felt your cheeks warm, a thrill running through you anyway. “Yeah? You’ve been calling me baby this whole time?” There was a kernel of bashfulness in your voice.
He let out a huff of air, still too tired to laugh fully. “Yeah, I have.”
Silence lapsed between you two, your breaths even and slow as neither of you tried to move away. It was too comfortable for you to want to get up.
“You gonna go find Ben today?” Frankie asked, a twinge of something in his voice making you lift your head up.
You squinted in the sunlight, rubbing one eye with the heel of your hand as you fixed Frankie with your gaze. “Wasn’t planning on it,” you murmured, lips pursing to one side as you chewed the inside of your cheek. “Unless you wanted me to, of course.”
His tired smile soothed you, the hand running up and down your side inching closer and closer to your breast as he looked at you. “Nah, you should stay,” he said, thumb stroking over your nipple. He swirled it to hardness, heat already starting to pool in your lower belly despite your exhaustion.
“Okay, I’ll stay.”
–
Ben and Will drank coffee in the kitchen in the morning, nursing their hangovers just like everyone else. Most of the group was awake and in various levels of pain, Santi cooking breakfast and Tom still wearing sunglasses. Their girlfriends were laying on the couches in the living room, curtains drawn as they sipped cups of water.
A giggle could be heard from Frankie’s room, the creak of a bedframe. No one understood how you two still had energy after going to bed at three in the morning. But, lucky for them, Frankie was resilient.
“Did they keep you up last night?” Will asked his brother, a hint of a smile on his face.
Ben nodded, blue eyes focused on his coffee. “Oh yeah, and you owe me twenty bucks.”
Will rolled his eyes–betting that Frankie would wait until the end of the trip to hook up with you had been the stupidest thing he’d done in a while.