Can't Stand the Heat - Louisa Edwards [100]
One full night at Frankie’s, the best night of Jess’s life, in so many ways, and he couldn’t completely immerse himself in enjoying it. Not with the memory of Miranda’s horrified expression superimposed on the backs of his eyelids.
“I already knew that. One night wasn’t going to be enough to cool her out.”
“Big Sis has quite the hate on for me, it’s true,” Frankie bragged, throwing himself down to lie beside Jess.
“I still can’t believe how she acted. I was scared to tell her, but deep down, I really thought it was going to be okay.” Jess could hear the throbbing pain in his own voice, and he tilted his head up to the brightening skylight to hide his eyes from Frankie’s watchful black gaze.
He felt, more than saw, Frankie’s shrug. “That’s family, innit? They love you too much to let things go.”
“How can you be so . . . cool about it?” Jess asked.
“Can’t be anything else, Bit. I was born this cool.”
Jess looked over in time to catch Frankie’s ludicrous eyebrow-waggle.
Laughing like a hyena, Frankie easily ducked Jess’s halfhearted swipe with the paisley pillow.
“Watch the goodies! That one bruises.”
Jess tossed the pillow aside and wiggled across the few inches separating him from Frankie. With the ease born of a long night of new experiences and expanding horizons, he draped himself comfortably across Frankie’s wiry, hairless chest. His skin was cool and smooth under Jess’s hot cheek.
“I think it’s the corduroy,” Jess told him. “Makes the pillow feel all hard and overstuffed. Not that your bony shoulder is much better.”
He fought to contain a thrilled shiver when Frankie’s only response was a pair of long arms winding around Jess, holding him in a secure embrace.
“I guess I can make do,” Jess muttered, pressing his face into the warm, spicy bend of Frankie’s neck.
They were quiet together for a moment, Jess greedily absorbing as much sensation as he could, storing it in his memory for later. He didn’t know when he’d get another night like last night, all of Frankie’s focused attention for hours and hours, followed by this amazingly sweet and wonderful cuddling. If Jess were dumb enough to even call it cuddling, he was sure it would be withdrawn. He breathed deeply of Frankie’s smoky clove scent and forced Miranda from his mind. He would live this to the hilt, he promised himself fiercely, for however long it lasted.
When Frankie’s voice cut the stillness, Jess poured all of himself into listening to the rough cadence of it, adding another layer of sensation to the memory.
“I’m cool about it because she’s your big sister, Bit. Took care of you, loved you, protected you. For years, and that makes it a hard habit to get out of. If I were her, I wouldn’t want me sniffing round, tempting my innocent brother out to play.”
Jess unraveled that with a moment’s thought, and when he did, it just ticked him off all over again.
“I’m not some doe-eyed angel boy getting corrupted by the big bad punk rocker,” he said. “I wish people would stop acting like they’re thinking about calling Child Services or the Special Victims Unit or whatever.” He squirmed in annoyance, buffeting Frankie in the side with his elbow accidentally.
“Settle down. I know. But that’s just m’point. Eventually, most people will stop looking at you and seeing a fresh-faced boy who can’t take care of himself. You’ll get older, for one thing, and life leaves its mark in other ways, too. Miranda, though? She never, ever, will look at you and think, ‘Oh, Jess is all grown-up. Well done me, guess I’ll go take a kip.’ She’ll always want to protect you. That’s her job. Your job is to let her.”
That brought Jess up onto his elbows. “You can’t mean you think I ought to let her stop me from seeing you. Or worse, let her think she can somehow talk me out of being gay!”
“ ’Course not.” Frankie’s eyes were deep and black in the soft, filmy morning light. “But don’t throw her care and concern