Page 67 of Washed Up

‘That’s not what I meant,’ said Jake.

‘What did you mean?’

He cleared his throat again. ‘Look, Frankie, when I said you needed to take what you wanted, I should have been clearer. You need to work out what you want, first. Do you want me? Really, I mean? Because you didn’t before, remember? Am I just, you know, here?’

‘Of course I want you. Couldn’t you tell from the kiss?’ But internally, Frankie winced. He was right, of course he was.

Jake stood up. Backing away from her. ‘The kiss was good,’ he said. ‘The kiss was very good. Believe me. But it’s not your heart, is it? Your heart belongs to someone else. Maybe you need to sort that out first.’

‘First?’ said Frankie, her cheeks hot under his gaze. She was a bit delirious. Was this what kissing always did to a person, or had she lost her mind?

‘And then?’

‘And then we…’

Her heart skipped a beat. ‘And then we what?’

His mouth lifted into a broad smile as he backed away. ‘And then we pick up where we left off.’

‘I can live with that.’

‘Goodnight, Frankie.’

‘Night.’

And with that, he was gone. Frankie let out a low whistle and tried to calm her hammering heart, to ignore the insistent heat between her legs.

What the heck just happened? And who knew Jake could kiss like that?

Dylan who?

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Frankie crawled into bed half an hour later, her mind still racing with memories of the kiss. Of Jake. In the dark. Her entire body was lit up with the sensation, as if she’d woken from a long slumber.

And it wasn’t just the kiss. Or the fact that it was her first. Or the fact that it had to be up there with the best first kisses of all time. Sure, in one kiss he’d banished all thoughts of her stupid brother. Of Sally. Of Dylan, even.

No. It was his words.

In one sentence Jake had changed her whole outlook on life. She was a changed woman.

So naturally, she reacted completely calmly and in a detached manner when her phone lit up twenty minutes later with an Instagram message.

New Frankie didn’t remotely care if it was Dylan – of course, it was Dylan. No one else messaged her on Instagram – but still, that was fine because she didn’t care anymore. She was a strong, confident woman who was going to consider her life goals, her objectives, and decide what she wanted. No more was she going to let life happen around her. No more being jealous of other people who were actually living their lives. It was time to live her own life, on her own terms.

So as she opened the message coolly, calmly, in a detached manner, she didn’t remotely care that Dylan had finished the message with three kisses this time. Or that he started this one with ‘Hey, gorgeous’. Her heart definitely did not falter in her chest at his words.

Dylan: Hey, gorgeous. Sorry it’s been a while. It’s been tricky to get time to message you. How’s the island? Your dad? How’s everyone doing? I’d kill for a pint in the Stargazer right now. Wrote a new song, thought you might like it. Take care.

Below the message was a link, which new and improved Frankie only clicked out of politeness and definitely not with a kick of excitement in her belly.

The song was called ‘My Heart is Full of You’, and the second the opening bars began to play, it was like an old friend, the sound was so familiar, somehow. When the lyrics began, when Dylan’s voice started up, when she heard the words he was crooning, his voice like silk, caressing every note, her own heart – which had already been through the mill today, it had to be said – very nearly stopped altogether.

The song was all about her.

Or at least, that’s how it sounded. The more she listened, the more she was sure of it. It was about their time together. That one magical day that she’d been starting to think she’d made up. But no, there it was. Dylan had felt it, too.

When the music finally faded, she put it straight on repeat, then lay back on the bed and let Dylan’s voice, those words, wash over her, her skin prickling all over.