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His hands crawl along the rough edge of the bar, worn down by years of spilt beer and drunken elbows. The floor sticks beneath his shoes with every step, but he moves through the crowd like he’s being pulled by an invisible force. Shouldering his way between the bar and students that are flushed with liquor and the relief of finally being done.
Frank finished his last final two days ago, but he’d stayed around campus anyway—partly for the parties, partly for the satisfying weightless feeling of the semester’s end—
And partly to see her.
Mel.
His best friend who had spent the last few months buried in research and textbooks and surviving off of redbull and spite. Mel, who took school more seriously than anyone he’d ever met. Mel, who walks into the dark bar and somehow seems to carry light in with her, haloed by neon beer signs and tangled Christmas lights.
She looks different tonight, lighter than he’s ever seen her and somehow more beautiful.
His chest fills with something liquid and molten.
He’s fairly sure it’s not the whiskey in his stomach, because he’s felt this before—when she fell asleep on his shoulder while studying, and when she showed up at his apartment with pizza and wings. Her hair twisted into a messy bun on top of her head and bruises of exhaustion under her eyes.
It’s always been her.
Mel with her crooked smile that always cheered him up, and her tiny hands, and her body that haunted more of his dreams than he’d ever admit out loud.
The bass of the music thuds, loud and rhythmically around him, rattling up through the floor and into his ribs. A group of girls start shouting in the back of the bar and a cheer erupts as a glass breaks, but none of it matters.
Because Mel looks up and she finds him instantly though the crowd.
Something heavy grows in his chest, something certain and real. Maybe it’s the relief of graduation, maybe it’s the liquor, maybe it’s the way she’s smiling at him like he’s the only person in the place—but he knows.
This is the night he finally kisses her.
Her entire face lights up when he reaches her, and then her arms are around his neck before he can even say hello. He laughs breathlessly as he wraps his arms around her waist and lifts her off the sticky floor.
“Mel—” he breathes, his lips against the shell of her ear.
She shudders beneath his hands and it sends heat rushing through him. He’s sure he smells like whiskey, but he can’t be bothered to care as his hands sink into the plush softness of her hips—
“Frank,” she whispers into his ear as she wriggles against him and suddenly he remembers where they are, the smell of sweat and excited chatter swells back into his consciousness.
She lands back on the ground as he drops her but his hands stay glued to her hips and one of them finds its way beneath the black tank top she’s wearing so he can press his thumb into her hot skin.
“What do you want to drink?” He yells, though his voice is partially swallowed up by the jukebox.
Mel hoists herself up by his shoulders, simultaneously pulling him down to her level so she can put her mouth beside his ear. Her breath hits him, hot, and his stomach lurches with that familiar feeling of wanting her so badly that it makes his vision blur at the edges.
“Gin and tonic!”
Frank leans back and nods at her as the room comes back into focus.
“You got it—“ he yells again, and before he can stop himself, he laces their fingers together and pulls her through the undulating sea of students and grads to the far end of the bar. It’s quieter, though not by much, and there is exactly one open bar stool.
“Sit,” he orders as she skids to a stop and bumps into his side. She takes the seat and he presses close—against her back, his entire front aligned with her spine as his hands slip around her waist. She tips her head back against his chest to look at him and Frank thinks it's the cutest thing he’s ever seen as her lashes flutter and her eyes reflect the red neon of the bar.
Her brow raises in the way it always does when she knows he’s up to something.
“It’s crowded, don’t wanna lose you—“ he mutters as if it’s a reasonable excuse to have her so close. So close that her heat is starting to seep through his clothes and the smell of her hair makes his cock twitch in his pants.
He needs another drink too—and quick.
The pretty bartender eyes them and Frank watches as her gaze darts down to Mel, then back up like she’s trying to figure out what they are.
“Another whiskey?” She asks Frank, her yinzer accent thick and he nods. “And for your girlfriend?”
Mel’s entire body tenses against him and it gives him a thrill to be close enough to feel it. He wonders briefly what she’ll feel like in his bed when he finally gets her beneath him.
“A gin and tonic!” He replies, squeezing Mel’s waist reassuringly and watching the bartender take off.
“What are you doing?” Mel whispers, turning in his arms until he’s forced to loosen his grip on her, but then—he catches the sight of her looking up at him, and he’s somehow ended up between her legs.
“Getting you a drink.”
“Yeah b—but,” she starts, her voice faltering and tapering off against the noisy backdrop of the packed bar.
“But what?” He whispers, leaning in, and reaching for her again.
Mel puts her hands on his chest, those hands that are so steady in labs, that twirl the end of her hair when she’s lost in thought—they’re shaking against him.
Frank pushes closer, until she has to strain her neck back to look at him.
“Where’s Abby?”
Abby.
Abby, the girl he supposedly loved.
Who now feels more like an obligation.
He should have chosen Mel so much sooner.
He knows he’s an idiot for falling for the first girl to pay him any attention on the first day of undergrad.
He knows he’s fucked up for staying with Abby when he’s been dreaming about Mel for two years.
Ever since she transferred in halfway through sophomore year, if he’s being honest.
Lately all they did was fight—and she hated the way he kept his apartment a mess. He hated that all she seemed to care about was impressing her Lit professor…the one with the sexy mustache, as she put it.
But Abby always pulled him back somehow, dragging him to her family beach house over the summer, being there when he needed something easy and physical and being so good at it—
“Abby’s gone—” he murmurs, leaning past her to grab their drinks from the bartender.
The whiskey scorches all the way down when he drinks, rushing through his veins like fire.
“Gone back home?” Mel asks, just lifting her glass without drinking, one eyebrow raised.
“Yeah—but also—” he swallows the thick feeling in his throat as the admission bubbles up onto his tongue.
Mel’s eyes are wide and she finally takes a long sip of her icy drink. Frank’s gaze gets stuck on the way she presses her mouth to the glass, and her tongue darts out to lick at her lips.
“Also?”
“Also we broke up.”
Mel chokes on her drink and a cool spray of gin and tonic hits his face.
“I’m sorry,” she says immediately, reaching up to wipe at his cheek, as her own burn red in the dim light.
Frank lets her wipe the drink off his face, and his lips tip up into a smile at the sight of her. Before he can stop himself he laughs. It infects him from somewhere deep in his chest and her surprised giggle in response just makes it spread faster.
“If I wanted a taste of your drink I would have asked.”
He doubles over, still laughing, until his forehead presses into her shoulder as they both devolve into the kind of laughter that feels hard to recover from. Like when he’d tripped over Mel’s pile of books in the library three weeks ago, and they’d had to hide under a desk until they’d been able to stop the fit of tears and chuckles.
Mel’s breath is hot and a little wet in his hair.
He leans back so he can see her smile.
He fell in love with that first, before he started dreaming about what she’d do with her hands when he finally got her in his bed, or what kinds of delicious noises she’d make when he kissed her all over—it had been her smile. The way it was rare, like a prize for him to win.
He found himself constantly playing the game of getting her to smile, or laugh. Cracking jokes just for her to hear, and coming up with bits that slowly became inside jokes—all for his reward of catching a glimpse of the way her nose wrinkled across the bridge when she laughed.
And there it is again—bright as ever even in the dark bar.
And now she knows Abby is gone and she still hasn’t pushed him away from the spot he’s found between her thighs.
“You’re all wet,” she murmurs through her smile, and when her hands come up to cup his cheeks and wipe droplets of gin off of them with her thumbs, one of them drags over his lower lip.
Frank’s brain short circuits at the feeling, her skin is so soft against his lips and he’s wanted to taste her for so long.
Without thinking, he turns his head and chases her hand as it slips away from his mouth.
“Frank—” the syllable drops from Mel’s mouth as her smile dims, only slightly, and he catches the fleshy part of her hand, pressing his lips against it.
They stare at each other for a second that feels too long, and then she snatches her hand away and wraps it around her now sweaty glass.
“How many whiskeys have you had?” She asks, in that tone she uses when she’s trying to sound light and easy, like when his frat brothers are around and she wants to seem fun.
“Three or four—” he admits softly, but still doesn’t pull away entirely. “You should catch up.”
Frank nudges her glass up towards her mouth, and smirks at her in a way he hopes comes off as charming.
She takes a heavy swig and he can’t stop watching her mouth—
“If I catch up to you I’m not sure if either of us will make it home—”
Frank isn’t nearly as drunk as she thinks he is though. Four years of frat life have trained him well, still though, he finds it cute that she thinks he is.
Cute and maybe a little sad that she thinks he’d only kiss her, even just on the hand, if he was.
He leans back a little, suddenly aware of her hesitation. If she wanted to kiss him, wouldn’t she have kept her hand at his lips? Wouldn’t she see that it was an invitation for more?
She downs the rest of her drink and sets the glass on the bar before looking back up at him.
Mel has this face she makes when she’s studying something that doesn’t quite make sense to her yet—he’s always found it irresistibly adorable. Now however, as he becomes the subject she’s studying, he feels like he’s been put under a microscope.
It makes his pulse jump.
“So you’re not drowning your sorrows about the breakup?” She asks quickly as the song from the jukebox skips and he lets out a huff that might seem a little callous as he rolls his eyes.
“Definitely not—Mel, we should have broken up a long time ago.”
He knocks back the remainder of his whiskey and places the empty glass beside hers on the sticky bar top.
Mel chuckles and shakes her head. “Yeah—was wondering when you’d come to your senses.”
His eyes snap to hers. That’s new.
She never talked about Abby, even when Frank was clearly in a mood over something to do with his floundering relationship, even when he appeared at her apartment after an argument—she never told him to stay. She never told him to leave.
“Oh, you were?” he says, and his voice comes out lower than he means it to as he shifts and finds her thigh with his fingertips.
“Yeah, I think everyone was—”
She says it like she’s trying to backtrack, soften the implication, but her hand slides down her thigh until she reaches his hand.
Their fingers meet and it jolts Frank like he’s been shocked.
“Well, should we get another drink? To celebrate my singledom? Since apparently everyone’s been praying for it?”
Mel snorts and her fingers clench around his briefly before she pulls away too quickly.
She turns to flag down the bartender.
“This round’s on me,” she says over her shoulder as the bleach blonde in the skimpy top approaches.
Frank’s gaze is glued on Mel, though, and he nods.
“I should probably switch to beer—”
“Good idea,” Mel says with a small laugh.
She orders his favorite and another gin and tonic for herself.
“Thank you,” he says as he gingerly takes the freezing cold glass from her hand when the bartender passes it to her.
“Cheers to being done,” Mel says, raising her glass and tipping it towards Frank.
“Done with lots of things, but just beginning others,” he adds when they clink together and he notes the way her brows lift as she watches him intently.
There’s a cheer from the entire bar as the rock and roll from the jukebox transitions into something more upbeat, and as Mel sips her drink, her eyes light up.
He recognizes the Nicki Minaj song from the nights where they’d resorted to blasting hip-hop just to stay awake to study more. He knows she loves it.
“Wanna dance?” he asks, though his voice is swallowed up by the sudden increase in the overall volume of the bar as the drunken revelry spikes.
“What?” she yells, leaning close to hear his answer.
“Do you want to dance?” he shouts, matching her movement so his mouth comes close enough to her ear that he feels her hair tickle his jaw.
When he pulls back, she’s already nodding enthusiastically and it makes Frank’s cheeks hurt with how hard he smiles back at her.
“Knock that back then, let’s see those famous King Moves.”
She laughs and downs her drink in three long gulps as he does the same—he’s glad he’d ordered a beer this time. Then he does something that he normally wouldn’t when they set their glasses down at the same time.
He grabs her by the waist and pulls her against him as he weaves backwards through the crowd towards the dance floor, already bobbing to the beat.
They push into the surging mass of graduates, and Mel relaxes against him as she closes her eyes and lets the music take over.
It’s a sight to behold.
Melissa King, notorious lightweight and wallflower, letting loose as she dances, still pressed tight to his chest.
His hands slide down from her waist to settle on her hips as they jump to the beat, and he can’t really be bothered to care that they’re touching in more places than they ever have before. Or what that means for their friendship, because she looks so happy.
Lighter than he’s seen her, maybe ever.
As Nicki raps about her Maybach, Frank pulls her closer, and the liquor hits him all at once, or maybe it’s the closeness of Mel, the feeling of her beneath his hands—that makes his head spin.
Mel’s fingers start tenderly at his sides, like she’s not sure if she can touch him and when he looks down at her, her eyes are open again.
She looks at him like she’s waiting for something.
Frank nods and squeezes her hips as his heart stutters in his chest and his stomach rolls.
Her fingertips inch their way to his stomach and when they curl into his tee shirt, he thinks he might pass out.
He needs to be closer, he needs to be inside her, but since they’re surrounded by people dancing in the middle of a crowded bar, he settles for slipping his hands around her back and pressing them into her spine.
They’re already so close that the only way he can get her closer is to slide his thigh between her legs—she exhales sharply against his throat and then melts against it. And the immediate heat of her makes all the blood rush to his cock that’s slowly becoming noticeably hard in his jeans.
Alcohol and Mel and relief of being done with school for the next three months and free of any obligation other than day drinking beer on the roof and hopefully fucking Mel silly on a regular basis, all combine into a rush of euphoria.
He tips his head back, closing his eyes and losing himself to feeling.
Feeling everything.
The shake of the floor as a hundred twenty somethings jump to the music.
The familiar heady rush of alcohol loosening his limbs and warming his stomach.
And most of all, the completely unfamiliar feeling of Mel’s body as she grinds against his thigh in time to the beat, and her hands. Her hands that have worked their way up the front of his shirt to tangle at the back of his neck.
They’re hot—even against the heated skin at the base of his skull, they burn.
The beat slows as the song changes from bouncy hip-hop to a slower, R&B rhythm.
Frank’s brain might be overheating, but he can still recognize the slung snare of the song.
He focuses on the syncopated beat and tries to let it steady him, but Mel seems to be determined to command his full attention, because she slows her hips and pulls him down with her hands as they slide into his hair.
“Mel—” he groans, his vision swimming when he finally opens his eyes.
She doesn’t hear him, or doesn’t acknowledge that she heard him.
And she spins in his arms until her ass is pressed to the front of him and suddenly Frank is the one who doesn’t know what to do with his hands.
His jeans are too tight and he’s sweating everywhere, and Mel is wearing a skirt that rides up her thighs as she grinds against him.
Her thighs.
He reaches for them, feeling her sweat slicked skin beneath his palms.
It’s almost too much.
“Mel—” he says again, as he presses his chin into the crook of her neck.
She shivers against him when his lips brush her throat, and he knows she’s heard him this time, because her head tips back against his chest and he feels it more than hears it when she murmurs his name back to him.
The music is still too loud.
He wants to hear her voice that sounds like bells.
“I think I might be a little drunk—” he murmurs into her ear.
And she laughs.
Her body shaking against his as she does.
He starts to press closer, unable to stop himself, and drops his lips to the skin beneath her ear.
Mel’s fingers clamp down over his hands on her thighs.
“Tell me to stop—” he whispers.
She shakes her head, and Frank presses his lips to her throat immediately.
She tastes like salt and perfume and something underneath both of those things that is just unmistakably Mel.
He keeps his mouth against her skin as he pulls her back into him, and her footing falters for a second when she loses the rhythm of the music.
He loves it.
The feeling of catching her weight against his chest. The way she melts into him without hesitation.
The music pulses around them, loud enough that it starts to blur together with the rush in his head, and soon he can’t focus on anything except the heat of her body beneath his hands as they slide slowly up to the crease of her thighs.
When he finally lifts his mouth away long enough to breathe, Mel slips her hand behind his head and guides him back down with her fingers tangled in his hair.
“You’re so hot, Mel,” he breathes.
She tips to the side exposing her neck again, and her fingers curl, almost painfully against his scalp.
In his wildest dreams, and there’s been some wild ones, Frank could never dream up anything like Mel’s receptiveness—it’s open ended and overwhelming and it makes him bolder.
It makes him brave enough to slide his hand up her torso, over her breasts and up her neck, tilting her head into his mouth so he can kiss up her jaw to the side of her face.
And she lets him.
She lets him press his hungry mouth to her cheek, just at the side of her lips.
Another jolt of bravery courses through him.
“Let’s get out of here—”
He breathes it against her cheek before he can think better of it. He knows it sounds like a line, maybe a little cliche—but she nods in his hands and against his mouth and it’s all the approval he needs.
He pulls her off the dance floor as the song changes again and the crowd surges around them with a burst of energy.
He finds her hand and laces their fingers together tightly so he doesn’t lose her in the swell.
When they break through the fray and Frank is able to breathe again, he tugs her towards the door at the back of the bar.
There’s a short hallway that’s dark and lined with couples making out against the walls.
Frank thinks about pushing her into the corner there and joining them, but he needs air, and he needs to see her when he kisses her lips for the first time.
The dark hallway simply won’t do.
He pushes the heavy metal door open and it swings with a creak as cool night air rushes over his flushed face.
There are people milling about the back of the bar, smoking and laughing, and as the door thuds shut behind them, the music fades to an indistinguishable bump of bass.
He thinks about looking back and making sure Mel is still with him—of course she is. He can feel her hand curled into his, but he wants to see her expression.
Instead he continues onward towards the alley, the alley that leads directly to the back door of his apartment building just two blocks away.
“Frank.”
Her voice cuts through his single minded train of thought and his feet skid to a stop on the rough pavement of the alley.
Mel tugs on his hand to get him to finally turn back to her, and when he does, she’s standing there, stock still looking at him with wide eyes.
In the orange glow of the streetlight, he can see her more clearly than he has all night. Her usually carefully styled hair is mussed and she looks disheveled in a way that he never sees her.
He can do nothing but stare.
They look at each other for long seconds, both breathing heavily before she opens her mouth.
“Is this some kind of rebound thing?”
He just blinks at her.
She shakes her hand out of his and gestures at something invisible between them.
“What?” He asks, stupidly. Everything comes to a crashing halt in his mind as he processes her question.
“This isn’t like—you’re drunk and want to get back at Abby, and I’m just here, so—”
“Mel, no,” he says, more quickly than he thinks possible, given the booze and the haze hanging around him.
“No, you’re not drunk or no, this isn’t a rebound thing?” She asks, her words a little slurred and her brows knit close over the rim of her glasses. She looks frantic.
“No, I’m not that drunk, but also no, this is definitely not a rebound thing.” Frank tries to explain, shaking his head to try and get ahold of his thoughts.
She makes the face again.
The one that tells him she’s not understanding something about the situation, and he steps forward.
She steps back.
Every muscle in his body freezes, suddenly worried he’s pushed her too fast and too soon.
“Mel—” he breathes, as his heart pounds against his ribs, his voice low like he’s trying to sooth a spooked animal.
He wants her so badly, he’s wanted her for longer than she could possibly know. He can’t stand to see her pull away now.
Not now that he’s tasted her skin and felt her body pressed against his.
He takes another cautious step in her direction and this time she stands her ground—Frank steels himself with a deep breath and closes the distance between them until the tips of his sneakers touch the toes of her boots.
“I’ve wanted to kiss you since the night we went to that stupid drive-in movie theater.”
His admission falls from his lips heavily. Like it’s tied to an anchor.
Mel just stares at him, her lips parted and her eyes unblinking.
The movie theater had been her idea.
Of course.
Just like everything they did, that was fun and weird and slightly off the beaten path. But Frank indulged her, like always and they’d sang along to the radio as they made the drive out of the city
He’d thought it before the rain started—that he could just lean over and kiss her—but then half way through the showing of Jumanji, the sky had opened up and their overpriced popcorn and the leather interior of his convertible Miata had gotten soaked.
He thought it again when she looked up at him with her wet hair plastered to her forehead and her eyelashes dripping with fat raindrops.
Her face shifts and her gaze shoots around like she’s not sure where to look for a moment. Frank can’t help himself, he reaches for her.
His hand lands on her cheek and he guides her face up to his as his chest continues to shake with his rattling breath and heavy heartbeat.
“That long?” She asks simply, but to him it sounds like an admission of her own.
Like she’s been waiting to hear him say it.
“Yeah—” he sighs with a self-deprecating smile.
“Then you should probably kiss me already,” Mel whispers with a tremble to her voice that betrays her outwardly composed expression.
“Yeah—probably,” he breathes, hardly able to believe that she’s here, that he’s touching her and that he’s about to press his lips to hers. “So, I can? Kiss you?” He stutters.
Mel reaches for him and her fingers wrap into the hem of his shirt, pulling him the rest of the way towards her.
“Yes,” she whispers, just before he tips into her and his lips land against hers, less gracefully than he planned.
It’s overwhelming and amazing in a way that throws him off balance, and Frank stops being able to tell which way is up or down.
All he can tell is that Mel’s mouth starts to part from his and suddenly he knows he can't have that happen. He crowds against her as he chases her lips, backing her out of the middle of the alley until she lands against brick.
Her arms find their way around the back of his neck as she pulls him down to her level and slots her mouth over his again.
Frank is finally kissing Mel and Mel is finally kissing him back, and her lips are the softest and yet most insistent thing he’s ever felt. She kisses him like she’s hungry, all needy nibbles and roving tongue. How she pressed her lips to her glass inside flashes in his mind.
He can taste her gin and tonic again, and this time, it's so much sweeter.
“Frank—” she whispers, when she finally leans back to breathe.
He wants to keep kissing but he has to know something.
“When was it for you?” He asks, still trying to catch his breath.
Mel tilts her head and he presses their foreheads together as she leans back against the wall.
”What?”
”When did you want to kiss me? I told you mine was at the drive-in.”
Mel shakes her head and laughs with a sad little sigh that makes his heart clench. She’s so cute and somehow, even more so now that he knows what she tastes like.
“Oh come on,” Frank whispers encouragingly, bumping their noses together and trying not to just give in and keep kissing her. He wants an answer before he gets too carried away.
“I can't."
“Why not?”
“Because it's embarrassing, and because you had a girlfriend up until…what, two hours ago?” Mel says quickly, looking down at her hand where it's fisted in his shirt . He doesn't mean for her answer to make him laugh, but suddenly he feels giddy as a rush of realization floods through him.
Mel’s wanted him for a long time too.
Maybe almost as long as he’s wanted her.
He gives up his hunt for the truth, knowing that he’ll be able to get it out of her eventually, and takes her face in his hands, tipping her head back as he does.
Her eyes are sparkly in the warm light, and browner than they look during the day with little gold rings around her inky pupils. If he wasn't so familiar with her face, from studying it whenever he thought she wasn’t paying attention, he might not notice that there are tears in her eyes.
“Can I kiss you again?” he asks, leaning over her.
“I’d be mad if you didn’t,” Mel whispers, so close he can feel her breath on his face.
“Well, I wouldn't want to make you mad,” he chuckles, before pressing into her for a third time. This time they kiss slowly and Frank holds her still as he sets the agonizing pace. She opens for him the second he runs his tongue across the seam of her lips.
He wonders in a stupid, fleeting and jealous flash who taught her how to kiss like this, because it sure as hell wasn't him. He hates the thought of anyone but him kissing her.
Even some imaginary guy who might not even exist.
He delves harder against her mouth and tries to drive it away. It helps when her hands slide down his chest and her fingers press into him distractingly.
“Can we go to my place instead of yours?” Mel asks breathlessly when they break apart, making Frank’s body flush. She wants to go home with him.
He wants to take her to his place though, it’s a two minute walk and he needs her now.
“Mine’s closer,” he whines, nosing into her hair at the side of her face.
“You have roommates and my bed has clean sheets,” she laughs, and nudges him playfully in the stomach.
Mel has a point.
And he wants her to be comfortable.
“Fine—”
She pulls him down and presses a harsh but quick kiss to his lips before ducking under his arms and pulling him down the alley in the opposite direction of his building, out towards the main road again.
Frank watches her in awe as her little hand curls in his and she practically skips ahead of him. They hadn't really talked about this—but here she is dragging him home, to her one bedroom apartment—and she cares if the sheets are clean.
“Mel,” he murmurs, tugging on her hand to get her to slow down.
She does, but keeps moving forward.
“What?” She throws over her shoulder casually, making Frank laugh.
He lengthens his stride to catch up and finally falls into stride beside her as she looks up at him.
“Should we—I don’t know, talk about this?” he asks, softly, as they weave in between the students on the sidewalk just heading out for the night.
“I thought we did,” Mel says, squeezing his fingers. “you said you wanted me since the drive-in—”
“I did—”
Technically Frank had said he wanted to kiss her since the drive in, but he loves that she took it that way, because it’s also technically accurate.
“Have you? Before?” He asks tentatively, and when she looks over at him, with her eyebrow raised, he adds, “have you—had sex?”
Mel steps off the curb without waiting for the walk signal, and Frank jumps to usher her to the other side of the street as a cab hurtles past them. She keeps moving towards her apartment like she doesn’t even notice that she was almost flattened.
Just when Frank thinks she’s not going to answer, and he opens his mouth to prod her again, she looks up at him and nods.
“Yeah, I have.”
His breath comes shorter, and it feels like he’s been punched in the gut. He must look like it too, because Mel shakes her head at him, making a little indignant sound.
He returns the gesture.
“Don’t look so surprised,” she snaps.
“I’m not!” Frank sighs, looking past her up the street as they reach the next block. He puts his arm out to keep her from crossing into oncoming traffic again and she pauses. “I just hadn’t thought about it—you never said—”
“I never said that I was seeing anyone because I didn’t want you to know,” Mel says quickly, cutting him off. The walk signal flashes ahead of him, but he suddenly can't move his feet.
“Why?”
He supposes they never talked about that kind of thing—he certainly never told her anything about his sex life with Abby, he can't imagine talking to her about it, even now. He wants her in a way that’s separate from anything that came before—for him and for her.
He wants her to himself.
“Because it was—stupid and it didn't really mean that much to me—and I—I didn't want you to think I was taken in case—” Her voice trails off as Frank’s stomach rolls.
“In case?”
“In case you and Abby broke up.”
Frank thinks to kiss her again right here on the street, but he can see her building on the next block now, so he tugs her across the road and up the sidewalk as quickly as he can.
It takes her a moment to fish her keys out of her purse and she fumbles with the key card at the front door with shaky hands. As he watches her, his gaze drifts over her bare shoulders and long limbs and he can't stop himself from reaching out—his hands land on her hips as he crowds against her and tucks his chin into the crook of her neck.
The song from the bar echoes in his mind as his fingers slide down to her thighs.
“Frank,” Mel sighs, when the door finally buzzes and beeps open, and she looks over her shoulder at him exasperatedly. “Come on.”
He kisses the spot under her ear just as she reaches out and catches the door before it closes.
He’s left empty handed when Mel tugs away from him, but her hand wraps around his and she pulls him into the building where they race up the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator. It's only three flights, but Frank might spontaneously combust if tonight was the night the century old elevator finally stopped working and they plummeted to their deaths before he got to touch her.
As they stop at her door, with the little sunflower magnet next to the brass number six, the stairwell fills with the sound of her jingling keys and of their uneven breath.
She pushes the door and the second it flies open to reveal her dark apartment that smells, as always, like lavender and vanilla, he pushes her through, and kicks the door closed behind them.
Their mouths crash together in the darkness and Mel’s teeth scrape over his bottom lip as he slides his hand along the wall to find the light switch, which seems to have moved since the last time he was here. Just as he finds it though, Mel shoves him against the wall with her hands on his stomach.
He catches the switch, and the overheard light flickers on as he looks down at her in surprise.
“Shoes off—” she murmurs and grins at him like she’s drunk—maybe she is.
Frank kicks his sneakers off and one of them flings itself across the room to disappear behind the sofa.
“Don’t worry about that,” Mel whispers, stepping out of her own boots as quickly as she can and then jumping at him again.
He catches her around the middle and lifts her off the ground as he continues to kiss her, again and again, longer and deeper every time.
Finally she takes him by the arm and guides him towards her room—where he’s slept on the floor more times than he can count, after drunken nights out when he couldn’t make it back to his place, and after studying for so long he passed out on top of his books. She’s not leading him to the floor though, she pulls him straight to her bed and he can hear his own heart beating obnoxiously in his head.
Mel stops just before she reaches the edge of the mattress and turns towards him.
“No outside clothes on the bed.”
That’s right, she’s very particular about her bedding. It’s why he’s always slept on the floor—that and he had a girlfriend.
Frank still comes up a little breathless at the idea of getting naked so soon. They’d only just started making out.
Of course he wants to see her naked though.
So he nods and steps a little closer.
The light is dim with just a sliver of gold entering the room from her open door, and the bluish light from the city outside her window, and when he lifts his hands to pull her top off, he realizes how unsteady they are.
“You’re shaking,” she points out uselessly, but her voice sounds like a wind chime with how sweet and clear it is.
He huffs a dry laugh.
“Uh—I guess I’m a little nervous.”
The admission is true, but it doesn’t relieve him to get it off his chest. He feels a little too vulnerable all of a sudden, and Mel puts her hands over his as he lifts her shirt up, over her torso, guiding him, and it helps a little.
“Can I?” she whispers when her tank top hits the floor and she steps closer, fingers catching the hem of Frank’s shirt.
All he can do is nod, lifting his arms as she shimmies him out of the cotton.
They stop talking for a while as they fumble at each other’s waistbands. Frank gets her skirt off faster — it only has a zipper — but Mel isn’t far behind, shoving his jeans over his hips the second she gets his fly undone.
Frank is painfully hard — she can definitely tell from the way his cock tents his boxers — but her skin is bare and pale only inches away, and he knows she wants him.
He kicks off his socks and lunges for her, the nerves in his throat sinking into his stomach. When he lifts his hands to comb through her hair, he realizes they’ve stopped shaking.
They kiss slow and steady until Mel backs him towards the bed and he falls onto the mattress with a surprised huff—their mouths breaking apart.
Her gaze turns uneasy when she stares down at him for a moment and her glasses have slid down her nose. She looks so fucking hot looking at him like she’s inspecting him. Like he’s some kind of specimen, like she’s stacking up the reality of him to her imagination…
When she seems satisfied with her findings, she smirks and slots herself between his thighs, pressing her way in as she forces him to open for her.
“Do you have condoms?” He asks, reaching up and wrapping his hands around her back to unhook her bra.
“No, but I’m on the pill—”
Frank's fingers falter.
He’s never fucked anyone without a condom.
Not even Abby, who thought birth control pills would make her fat.
“That—that’s alright? With you?” He stutters.
“Yeah, I, trust you—”
Frank shakes his head because he can’t believe she’s okay with this, that she’s here and that this isn’t a dream.
He manages to get the final clasp of her bra unhooked and her tits greet him as the fabric falls away to reveal soft swells of pale skin.
Her nipples are bright pink and they point upward and in either direction a little.
They’re the most perfect things he’s ever seen.
“Frank?” Mel murmurs, pulling his attention back to her.
“Hmm?”
“You kinda froze—is everything—I know they’re not big…like—” her voice trails off and she starts to move to cover herself, but Frank's hands shoot out and he stops her by the wrists.
He catches her before she can hide from him and tugs her forward until she’s flush against his chest. There’s nowhere for her to go except into his lap, knees settling on either side of his hips as she climbs over him in a clumsy rush that makes his chest ache.
Now there’s only the thin drag of their underwear between them. Two flimsy layers of fabric, already warm and damp where they press together.
Frank grips her waist and rolls his hips up instinctively, pulling her tighter against him causing her to let out a soft, startled sound that catches somewhere deep in her throat.
It nearly fucking undoes him.
“Jesus Christ,” he breathes.
She’s breathing hard now too, eyes wide behind her crooked glasses, her hands gripping at his shoulders like she doesn’t know what to do with herself. Like she can’t get close enough.
Frank slides one hand up her spine and bends toward her chest, pressing his mouth against the soft swell of her breast. He kisses her there once, then again, slower this time, and Mel’s head tips back with a broken little moan that sends heat straight through him.
“Fuck, Mel,” he murmurs against her skin. “You’re so gorgeous.”
He drags his mouth across her chest and looks up at her from beneath his lashes. She’s staring down at him with her lips parted, expression dazed and disbelieving, like she still hasn’t fully accepted that this is real either.
“Can I touch you?” She whispers as her eyes seem to come back into focus and her hands slide down his chest, through the light dusting of dark hair, and to his stomach.
His cock twitches in his boxers again and she must feel it, because she makes another surprised sound that sets his nerves on fire.
“Yeah—yeah, whatever you want, baby,” he pants, leaning back to make more room for her hands.
“Baby?” she repeats softly, sounding almost shy, despite the grin pulling at her mouth.
And everything disappears except her hand as her fingers wrap around him though a single layer of thin material.
“Fuck—” he groans, blinking rapidly as he tries to get some kind of control back over his body.
“You’re so sensitive,” Mel notes as he jerks into her hand while she strokes him slowly.
“Take it out, baby. Please, I need to feel you,” he begs, barely recognizing the neediness in his own voice.
Mel smiles down at him, then shimmies back a little on his lap so she can pull his boxers down just enough for his erection to spring free.
It aches almost painfully in her hand.
“You’ve been teasing me all night, Mel. I’ve been hard for you all night,” he babbles, leaning up and trying to catch her mouth in another kiss.
She pulls back just in time to dodge his lips.
“You’re the one that’s been teasing all night, Frank.”
Her tone is stern but her hands are gentle as they slide his foreskin down his shaft, and he's sure he’s never been this close to coming from this little stimulation. He feels like he's on fire everywhere their skin touches.
He looks down, and the sight of her hands on him, one clenched onto his bare thigh and one slipping back up his length, almost knocks him out.
“Mel,” he pants with a hint of warning in his voice, and she freezes.
“Is this okay?” She asks softly, suddenly sounding less confident.
Frank’s never been more okay in his life.
“Fantastic, I just…I want to touch you too,” he mumbles, leaning forward so he can rub his face in her tits again. “Lay down,” he adds between kissing her soft flesh.
She looks down at him as she pulls away, and her nose is scrunched, her lips parted like she wants to say something.
“What?”
Mel drops her head until her face is buried in his neck and when she speaks, her breath washes over his throat like warm honey. “I—I’ve done this before but—not a lot,” she whispers. “Will you tell me if I do anything wrong?”
Frank groans at the feeling, and at her question. How she thinks she could ever do anything wrong is beyond him.
“You’re perfect, everything you do is perfect,” he moans, tipping his head to the side so she can press her perfect lips against his neck.
She latches on, and sucks at his skin, surprising him with the force of it, and working her way down his throat. Finally she finds his collar bone and continues pressing hot little kisses along it.
“I don’t wanna mess this up,” she whimpers.
Frank doesn’t either, he couldn't stand it if she thought anything less of him—he couldn't stand it if this only happened once.
“Baby, lay down, let me show you how much I want you,” he whispers into her hair, and he wraps his arms around her, pulling her down into him and rolling her onto the bed so that she is pressed into the mattress and he is half on top of her.
Frank sits back and leans up on his elbows above her. She looks like a fucking goddess as she wriggles against the sheets and her hair drapes over her shoulders, hair tie seemingly lost along with her clothes.
“Pretty girl,” he whispers, leaning in to kiss her gently. She bucks her hips up and the contact sends stars across his field of vision.
“Frank,” she whines.
He fixes her with a placating smirk.
“I know, baby,” he whispers, and starts his descent.
He kisses her mouth once more, just long enough to toy with the edge of her lips with his tongue and when she opens for him, he pulls away, trailing kisses down her jaw, her throat, and between her tits.
She makes a small frustrated sound and rocks against him again, impatient, and Frank smiles against the side of her breast.
“I’m getting there,” he chuckles softly before nipping at her skin in warning.
Mel stills immediately, and the sudden obedience nearly goes to his head.
He takes her nipple between his lips, and the little sound she makes in response almost makes him laugh. Almost.
Instead, he uses his free hand to knead gently at the soft flesh of her breast while he takes his time with her, slow and deliberate, switching his attention between them until her breathing turns uneven beneath him.
She’s still watching him, head raised off the pillow as he grinds his erection into the mattress for some relief for his throbbing cock. He’s pretty sure he's getting pre-come all over her nice clean sheets, but he doesn't care, and neither does she right now. Not with how she moans and shakes beneath his hands.
He loves how he affects her.
He loves to see her so desperate for him.
Frank needs to see her pussy. He needs to taste it.
He kisses her stomach, her belly button, and along the waistband of her bright purple underwear. They have a little bow at the front and for some reason, that makes him ache with even more want.
“I’m gonna take these off now,” he whispers as he noses into the fabric covering her.
“Please—” She whimpers, and lifts her hips to help him pull them over her thighs.
And then she’s spread before him, bare, and flushed from head to toe, and he loses himself in her.
“Have you ever had your pussy eaten, baby?” He whispers, tossing the panties onto the floor before settling back between her legs.
He doesn't wait for her to answer because he is suddenly confronted with Mel’s pink slit inches from his face, and he drops his mouth against her before he can think better of it.
She smells amazing, she feels so soft against his lips, and he can’t get over how the light hairs over her entrance tickle his face.
He looks up through his lashes at her and finds her shaking her head.
“No? Really?” He whispers, finding the strength somewhere deep in his chest to lift his head away from her. “Is this okay?”
“Yeah, god, yeah,” Mel whispers, her voice husky and low. He almost growls when her fingers slip into his hair, brushing the unruly strands back from his forehead. Even the smallest touch from her drives him insane. He’s not sure how he’s supposed to survive this.
He drops his mouth back between her legs and the sound she makes shoots straight through him. And if he thought she smelled good before, it’s nothing compared to the taste of her.
There’s something unmistakably Mel about it. The same thing that makes kissing her feel addictive, only stronger now—warmer, muskier, completely hers.
She starts moaning in earnest when he slides his tongue lower, deeper between her folds, tasting just how badly she wants him. Her arousal coats his lips and chin as she writhes beneath him, and Frank suddenly wants nothing more than to bury himself inside her and never leave.
But first, he needs to show her exactly what he can do to her.
“Relax, sweetheart,” he whispers against the inside of her thigh, taking a second to catch his breath as he nibbles gently at the sensitive skin there.
Mel listens. Her head falls back against the pillows and he feels the tension slowly leave her body as she lets out a shaky breath.
When he lowers his mouth back to her pussy, he’s more deliberate this time. Slower. He laps at her before dragging his tongue up to her clit and drawing it between his lips.
But more than the taste of her, it’s the sounds she’s making that drive him completely insane.
Frank thinks suddenly of the night they ordered Thai food from the only place still open in the city, and how it turned out to be the best either of them had ever had. Mel had slurped noodles into her mouth and let out this long, breathy little moan, and when he looked over at her, she’d gone bright red.
She’d blamed the spice.
Meanwhile, he’d jerked off to the memory of that sound for the rest of the week.
And now she was giving him enough material for the rest of his life. He already knows he’s going to replay every whimper and groan she makes tonight every day from now on.
“Frank, god, that’s—” she murmurs, her voice pitching higher as her thighs clamp around him suddenly.
The sound she makes afterward nearly wrecks him. He thrusts his erection into the bed, groaning into her as he gets a little relief of his own.
Her body shakes beneath his hands, fingers tangled painfully in his hair, and as she falls apart he’s struck with the desperate need to keep her exactly like this for as long as she’ll let him. In his arms. In his bed. Wanting him.
But her breathing starts to steady again, and her movements turn frantic. Her thighs tense and her hands tug harder at him.
“Frank, stop—god, stop.”
He lifts his head immediately.
Mel’s face is flushed deep red, her eyes bright and glassy in the dim light.
“Mel—” he murmurs, scrambling back up the bed to cradle her face between his hands. “Hey, was that too much? Are you okay?”
His kisses land against her cheeks, her forehead, anywhere he can reach while panic flickers through him.
“It’s never been like—like that before,” she whimpers, nuzzling weakly against him, her body still trembling with the lingering aftershocks.
“In a good way?” He chuckles as he pulls back to see her face.
A small smile tugs at her lips, the faintest flash of white teeth visible as she nods.
“Fuck,” he murmurs, dropping back down to kiss her again. “I’ve been thinking about that for ages, Mel, every time you came over, every time we were alone—I just, I can’t help it, you do something insane to me.”
“We should’ve done this sooner then,” she laughs into his parted lips, her words hitting him deep in his chest. She’s right of course—she always is. He thrusts into her thighs, his cock slotting between them and rubbing over her mons.
She shudders.
“Can I—” he breaks off, panting softly as he searches her face and rolls his hips into her again. “Can I fuck you?”
Mel looks at him, her glasses askew, and her brows raised like she’s surprised he’s asking, but as his next thrust notches his cock against her entrance, she inhales sharply.
“Please, baby” he whispers, dropping one hand down to hold himself and tease her clit with the head of his cock.
“Oh, wait, keep doing that.”
Frank laughs roughly.
It does feel good, her wet clit circling the underside of his erection, but it feels too good, and he needs to be inside her.
“I’m not gonna last if I keep doin’ this,” he mumbles, his voice lazy and slurred.
Mel shimmies and gets her elbows beneath her so she can look down the flat plain of her torso and see what he’s doing.
“You’re big—” she says matter of factly, like it’s the fucking weather report.
Frank laughs under his breath. He supposes she’s right—he’s never exactly had any complaints—but he’s not deluded enough to think he’s got some kind of monster length. And the clinical way she says it nearly kills him.
“Think you can handle it?” He whispers, his voice scratchy as he decides to play along, and he dips his head down lower to nibble at her ear as he aligns himself with her entrance. He breathes hard as he pauses there for a moment, giving her a chance to stop him—if she wants to.
He notches perfectly into her.
“Say you can handle it, baby,” he whispers, suddenly shaking with anticipation.
Mel falls back into her soft pillows and nods as she watches him intently.
“I can handle it, please Frank. I need you.”
Her plea strips the last of his restraint away and he doesn't waste a second, pushing into her tight, waiting, heat.
His gaze drifts helplessly over her body, until it lands on where they’re joined. Her legs are spread wide and the sight of his length disappearing into her pink folds sends a rush of heat through his body so intense he nearly loses his breath. He can’t look away.
“I wish you could see what I’m seeing right now,” he stammers breathlessly, and comes up against some resistance as she clenches around him.
“Tell me,” she moans, the words strained and shaky, like she might fall apart if he stops talking.
Still unable to tear his eyes from her, he slides his hands over her waist and stomach, trying to soothe her even as he feels himself unraveling too.
“You take me so well, baby, you look so beautiful, you—you feel so—”
His words die in his throat when she lets out a soft whine and pulls him deeper against her.
He pulls out of her halfway and as the overwhelming sensation of her clenching around his cock recedes, he's able to finally look back up at her face. Mel is open mouthed, panting, and looking as entirely lost in him as he feels lost in her.
He experiments with a few careful movements and a couple of shallow thrusts just to see what kind of reaction he can pull from her. He’s rewarded almost immediately with her signature nose scrunch, followed by her eyes fluttering shut as her head falls back against the pillows.
Frank’s hands grip at her hips as he pins her in place, preparing to push into her fully.
“Ready, Mel?” he whispers.
Mel nods frantically, her eyes locking onto his like she can’t look anywhere else lest she get overwhelmed.
He understands the feeling, and it only gets worse when he shifts his hips and finally slides his cock into her to the hilt.
The sensation nearly knocks the air from his lungs. His arms give out for a second and he falls forward against her, bracing himself over her body as he tries to recover enough to think straight again.
He’s aware that he’s shaking, he’s aware that Mel is making soft sounds and kissing the side of his face, he’s aware of everything, but still none of it feels entirely real. Maybe he fell over drunk in the bar and hit his head and this is all some kind of sick concussion fever dream—
But then Mel nudges her nose against him and murmurs something low, and hot.
He leans back a fraction of an inch to blink down at her.
“Move baby—” she whispers again, and his brain catches up to reality in an instant. Mel is beneath him, and around him, and calling him baby.
He manages to get a hand on her headboard and uses it to hold himself up enough as he starts moving against her in earnest . The feeling of her nearly destroys him. She’s warm and impossibly slick around him, every movement dragging pleasure through his body so intensely that he briefly thinks maybe they should’ve used a condom after all. Maybe then he’d stand a chance at lasting longer than five pathetic minutes.
The thought disappears as quickly as it came when Mel cries out softly—
No, he needed to feel her like this—skin to skin.
Mel’s hands slide around his back and her nails scrape across his shoulder blades as she starts moving with him, matching the roll of his hips instinctively. Every time he presses fully into her again, she sucks in a sharp breath that goes straight to his head.
Frank focuses on those sounds.
It helps a little. Enough that he can find an actual rhythm instead of completely losing himself to the overwhelming feeling of her and how drenched she is around him. Soon their bodies are moving together steadily, skin slapping together softly, punctuated with Mel’s tiny moans and huffs.
“Frank—I’m—” she whimpers, her hips faltering beneath him.
He recognizes the change in her immediately. The quickening breath, the tension building through her body—it’s the same way she sounded earlier when he’d coaxed her to orgasm with his mouth, and the realization that he’s about to do it again, sends a fierce wave of pride through his chest.
“Let go, Mel,” he whispers.
His words come out rough and desperate as he is suddenly overtaken with the need to feel her fall apart around him. He needs the overwhelming proof of the way he makes her feel so badly that it distracts him from the dangerous edge of his own release, and Frank is able to fuck into her faster for a few hard strokes.
She gives up trying to match his movements and becomes liquid in his hands, limp and boneless as pleasure takes over her body.
When she comes, her breath stutters, then stops for a second—her face goes red and patchy and then her cunt clamps down around him, and she lets out a cry that has the same musical quality of her voice but is drenched in pure sex.
As she writhes, he continues to pump into her, working her through her orgasm and nearing closer and closer to his own.
“I’m gonna come, baby,” He breathes harshly as the familiar tightening of something inside him becomes too intense too soon.
“Don’t—” Mel breathes and he panics for just a second, unable to fathom a world in which he can last another fucking second. “Don’t pull out,” she finishes with a shaky sigh, and it takes him tumbling over the precipice of his climax immediately.
He snaps his hips against her harder and harder until he loses the ability to keep up with any kind of pace, and his thrusts falter, and every muscle in his body goes tight.
Mel is crying and moaning beneath him as he pumps into her haphazardly, and finally, Frank sucks in a ragged breath though his teeth as he spills inside her, his cock twitching and his brain buzzing with her.
Everything is too sensitive and too wet, but he can’t bring himself to pull out just yet and he collapses into her arms. She wraps them around her hands carding though his hair as aftershocks rock both of them and their breath syncs up into a slow rhythm.
“I knew I was gonna kiss you tonight, but—but I never thought we’d do that,” Frank finally breathes once he regains the ability to speak.
Mel shakes slightly with quiet laughter. “Oh, you knew you were gonna kiss me?”
“I’d been planning that part for a while actually,” he sighs, pressing his mouth into her hair as laughter spreads through him.
Mel huffs softly and tangles her fingers into his hair, tipping his head back just enough to make him grin despite himself. The sting is pleasant, distracting in a way that immediately sends his thoughts somewhere dangerous again as he pictures pulling her hair next time—
His cock gives a lazy twitch at the thought and as he watches Mel, she winces slightly.
“Let me clean up—” he whispers, ducking his head and slipping out of her carefully.
His carefulness doesn't help, because the second he slips free, his come dribbles out onto her already rumpled bedspread.
“Sorry,” he mutters immediately, lunging for his abandoned T-shirt somewhere near the edge of the bed.
Mel watches him with obvious amusement as he awkwardly tries to clean both her and the bedspread at the same time.
“I don’t think that’s helping,” she says through a laugh.
“Yeah, well,” he mumbles, still dabbing uselessly at the sheets. “Maybe we should’ve gone to my place.” It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d gotten bodily fluids all over his comforter.
He glances back at her sheepishly from the side of the bed, and the sight of her there—flushed, smiling, completely his for the moment—hits him all over again.
Mel shivers and lifts her arms toward him. “Come back.”
“Yes Mel,” he breathes instantly.
Her name sounds different now. It feels different on his tongue, like it’s softer and heavier somehow.
And when he collapses into her, Frank can barely believe that it's been less than two hours since he lifted her off the sticky floor of the bar while she laughed against his cheek.
—
That summer, Frank and Mel have a lot of firsts.
He takes her to the Renaissance Faire for the first time, and she dresses like a French peasant woman with her tits crammed into a little leather corset she bought off Etsy. When they get back to her apartment later, Frank makes her strip down to nothing but the corset and fucks her against the window while the city glows golden outside.
Mel introduces him to her sister during a long weekend at the beach, and even though they have to be quiet in the room they rented in the shared beach house, she gives him a life-changing blowjob after a day of too much sun and salt water.
They drive to Valley Forge and learn about the winter of 1777, when the American troops nearly froze to death in the little cabins scattered through the park. Mel tells him she would’ve kept him warm through the winter if they’d been there, and Frank laughs before kissing her beneath the trees.
Hours later, sitting in the tall grass and no doubt getting bitten by ticks while the sun sinks low behind the hills, Frank tells her he loves her for the first time.
Mel goes very still. Then she tells him she’s never felt more loved than when she’s with him, and that no one has ever said that to her before.
Afterward, they make love in the back seat of her station wagon in the parking lot and lose track of time so completely that they have to find a park ranger in the dark to let them out after the gates close for the night.
By the time the nights begin to cool and the smell of fall filters through the open windows of her apartment, Frank knows for certain that he has never been happier—or more in love.
He’s already packed up his apartment and moved most of his boxes into student housing across the city in preparation for his first year of med school, and Mel is still in the process of labeling boxes and carefully wrapping knickknacks in newspaper when he realizes. She’s slotted herself into his life so seamlessly that he can no longer tell where he ends and she begins.
Frank steps up behind her while she stands at the kitchen counter packing glasses into a cardboard box, and wraps his arms around her waist. She startles before immediately melting back against him.
“What are you doing?” she laughs, tipping her head against his shoulder.
“Hugging my girlfriend. Is that alright with you?” he murmurs, slipping his hands down to toy with the waistband of her sweatpants.
“More than alright,” she sighs, turning in his arms and rising onto her toes to kiss him softly.
And Frank knows then that as soon as they’re done with med school, he’s going to marry her.
Just like he knew he was going to kiss her all those months ago, he feels it deep in his bones.
He hasn’t been wrong yet.