Page 104 of Washed Up

And yet, even the memory of those few stolen minutes alone in the dark with him at the Manor gave her goosebumps. There was definitely something between them. Something chemical, something undeniable. She was sure of it. Most of the time, she was sure of it. Was it enough to sustain something real? That was the question. Was there even a possibility of that right now? Was she a selfish cow for even thinking there might be?

‘Penny for them?’ said Sally, coming up to the reception desk to relieve Frankie, who jumped at her voice. ‘Also, your date is here.’

‘What?’ said Frankie, stupidly. She had indeed been lost in her thoughts.

‘I said, Dylan’s here. He’s in the restaurant,’ said Sally, smiling for what may have been the first time that day, from what Frankie had seen.

‘Oh. Oh.’ Her heart was suddenly racing.

‘Yup. Get going.’

Frankie leapt out of her seat, then checked herself. ‘Wait. Sal, how are you doing?’

‘Don’t worry about me,’ said her friend, though her eyes went glassy. ‘I’m okay.’

‘We’ll talk…’ said Frankie.

‘…later,’ said Sally. ‘When you’re not busy,’ she added with a smirk.

‘I’m so sorry. I can cancel if you need company,’ said Frankie, though her entire being was begging her not to say yes.

Sally snorted. ‘Ask you to cancel a date with Dylan Wright? Are you kidding?’

Frankie let out a breath. ‘Fine. But this is not a date. It’s just dinner. Just to be clear.’

Another snort from Sally. ‘Sure, it is.’

As Frankie made her way into the restaurant, she wasn’t sure herself. Dylan had maintained radio silence all day, but then perhaps he was dealing with the press, or just working things through. She had tried so hard not to disturb him, it had been painful.

And now there he was, sitting in a seat by the window, watching her as she approached. God, he looked good. His dark hair was mussier than usual, and that little worry line in his forehead was definitely more pronounced, but his smile as she walked towards him, that was a smile that could melt glass. A pang of self-consciousness shot through her, and smoothed down her green skater dress, borrowed in yet another fit of panic from Sally. It was a little tight to say the least, a little more revealing than her usual attire, but Dylan seemed to approve. Still, if this was going to be a regular occurrence, and oh how she hoped it would be, she desperately needed to go shopping.

‘Hi,’ he said as she approached the table.

Her stupid face had betrayed her already, lighting up into a beaming smile the second she’d set eyes on him, which now seemed to be fixed in place despite her efforts to control it.

‘You look amazing,’ he said quietly.

Her cheeks were already burning as she slipped into the seat opposite him, trying to ignore the whispers and stares from the other diners. Dylan seemed oblivious. He was used to it, she supposed. And he hadn’t taken his eyes from her face the whole time.

‘You okay there?’ he said as she settled back into her chair.

‘Yup. Uh-huh, mmm,’ she managed, her face on fire.

‘Glad we got that straight.’ He laughed.

She played with her cutlery. ‘Sorry. It’s just good to see you.’

‘Well, that’s rather lovely to hear. Are you going to look at me at any point or…?’

‘In a minute,’ she said, still looking down at the table. ‘I was worried about you,’ she squeaked out after a second or two.

‘Ah,’ said Dylan. ‘Yes.’ He put a hand on hers. The elderly couple on the next table had been openly staring at Dylan through this whole exchange and the move of his hand nearly sent them apoplectic. To Dylan’s credit, he continued to ignore them.

Meanwhile his touch was sending a buzz of little thrills down Frankie’s spine. She shifted in her seat.

‘How’s Sally?’ he said. ‘And your mum? Must have been a tough goodbye.’

‘It was, but they’re doing okay, I think. It was weirdly good to see him.’