Free Everything I Need by Natalie Barnes Page B

in a fluffy white towel. My hair is soaked and sticking to my back. I’m so lazy right now that I don’t even want to brush it. I will not, and I mean, NOT, drink like I did last night ever again.
    Padding across the tile floor, I open the door and steam pours out into the hallway. Pausing between there and the bedroom, I hear a faint sound, like music being played really low. What the? I have to check this out. Creeping into my living area to investigate, I clench my towel tighter to me.
    Peeking my head around the corner, I see Frankie, listening to music from his phone with headphones on. He’s arranging books on a shelf, shaking his hips from time to time. He’s wearing tight metallic blue pants with an off-the-shoulder sparkly silver tee. His hair, as always, is flat-ironed bone straight.
    Observing him silently, I have to suppress a laugh. I wish I had my phone in my hands right now; I would so be recording this. Just then he stops what he’s doing and pulls out his phone. Lifting it above his head, he sings, “Let me take a selfie.” He puckers his lips to the lens. Oh my God! That’s the trash he’s listening to?
    I can’t hold back anymore. I start laughing from my gut at this sight. It’s not so good for my stomach, but this shit is too funny. Frankie spins around on his heel without missing a beat and dances his way toward me.
    Shaking my head ‘no’ at him, I step back, but his long arms reach out and pull me into him, all soaking wet. He snaps another picture. I look up at him and he’s now pulling his ear buds out.
    “I love that fucking song! It was so made for me,” he winks.
    “That song, Frankie,” I say to him, pointing at the phone in his hand, “is not a real song. Sorry.”
    I shrug my shoulders at him, but he just tosses his hair over his shoulder, more for dramatic effect than anything because his hair isn’t quite long enough to reach his shoulders.
    “Honey, you’re so wrong. That’s my anthem.”
    “I thought Lady Marmalade was your anthem?” I laugh. He always listens to that song when he’s getting ready to go out.
    “Well, yeah. That, too. But this is so me. Please girl, I invented selfies. Back in the day with my Polaroid . . . mmmkay.” He snaps his fingers a couple times at me.
    Gawd! He’s so funny sometimes. Shaking my head at him, I walk back to my room. As I step through my bedroom door, I hear Frankie calling after me.
    “Better hurry, I have plans for us today!”
    Fuck.
     
    ************
     
    Lux sent a car for me at four this morning. I’m so tired and I slept like shit last night. Benny thought it was just nerves about flying, but I know fucking better. It’s not that at all. It’s fucking Tristan.
    I hate that I still have any kind of feelings for him. I try to tell myself to just stop, that he’s an asshole, but I can’t. I’ve had asshole boyfriends before who did the same exact thing to me, but Tristan technically wasn’t my boyfriend.
    The question I keep going over in my mind is, how can he, when he says he has feelings for me, just go and sleep with someone else at the first sign that we weren’t going to be together? I thought I’d let that go, but apparently not since the first time I’m around him again sends all those feelings back into overdrive. Fuck me.
    The car pulls up to one of the private entrances at John Wayne where Lux’s jet is waiting. I’m chewing on my lip so hard that I feel it starting to turn raw underneath my teeth. And my stomach . . . fuck butterflies! They’re more like fucking wasps taking flight in there.
    Pressing my palms down on my lap, I try to remove some of the sweat that’s built up on them. Okay, I can do this. I’m a professional and other than Tristan, I know this is an unbelievable track. I keep saying this to myself for reassurance. It actually kind of helps when I do this . . . kind of.
    I open the door before the driver even comes around. I don’t know, I still feel weird or out of place when