Read Everything I Have (Everything I Want #3) for Free Online Page B

black leather pants and a barely there white t-shirt, I run my fingers through my hair. It's kind of tangled down at the ends since I was banging my head a lot while performing, but not too much for Frankie to fix.
    Looking into the mirror before I head out, I sigh. I can’t believe I have to fake fucking drunk tonight. This is so ridiculous. Okay, just do what Frankie said. Smile. Okay, easy enough, I guess. Staring at my reflection, I fix up the widest fake smile I can and I freaking scare myself. My face drops. I so don’t want to do this. That look alone is pretty fucked up in a, 'that looks dumb' way. Shit.
    Taking a deep breath, I pull the door open. Frankie is outside, sitting in the chair I was just in, sipping his gin cocktail. Oblivious to me coming in, he's humming to himself, stirring his drink. Not saying anything, I stand here still ’til Frankie lifts his eyes to me.
    “Holy shit, girl!”
    He drops his straw. Giving him a half smirk, I shrug my shoulders.
    “What? You've had me wearing way less than this.”
    I actually don’t mind these clothes. The pants are a little uncomfortable, but the shirt isn’t bad. It’s just showing a sliver of my stomach. Frankie lifts himself off the chair and starts walking toward me with his arms open.
    “Girl, you’re so beautiful…”
    “Frankie, are you sure you aren’t the one with the hormones?” I laugh back at him.
    I look the same as I always do. Frankie is so sensitive, I swear to God. Frankie steps up in front of me and dips his fingers into his glass, then starts flicking the alcohol on me. Like, everywhere.
    “Hold still,” he says.
    “What the fuck are you doing?” I try to grab his hand but he’s too fucking quick for me.
    “You need to smell like booze for this plan to work. Just hold still.”
    “No!” I screech back at him.
    “Oh, stop being so dramatic.”
    Frankie leans in more with his drink, dipping his fingertips in the cool liquid before flicking them against my chest and shirt, like a priest would do with holy water at a Mass.
    Right in the middle of me laughing and screaming at Frankie to stop, a loud pound hits the door once before it flies open. I pause with Frankie in the middle of sprinkling me with the booze. Tristan pushes the door open, his eyebrows lifted and the corner of his mouth raised in a smirk.
    “Ah… hi? ” His deep voice comes out in a rough chuckle.
    “Hey, Tristy!”
    Frankie smiles at him, still leaning over me with my hands firmly gripping his wrists. Letting go of him suddenly, I brush my hands down my front and smile up at Tristan. Fuck! Okay, I know I can’t “fake” drunk yet cause it’s still too early, but what the fuck do I do?
    “Nice job tonight.”
    He looks from the gin bottle, to me, to Frankie, and back to me. He leans against the wall, folding his arms over his chest and nodding his chin at me.
    “You still gonna crash?”
    Frankie bats his eyelashes at Tristan before giving me a sneaky smirk. Little shit.
    “Oh, she’s so going out tonight, that’s for sure.”
    “You are?”
    Tristan's eyebrows knit together in confusion. I was pretty distant earlier from the “news.” I wasn’t lying when I said I felt like shit, but Frankie is right. Right now, I gotta keep up appearances. Gotta keep it cool for just a bit longer.
    “Yeah,” I shrug my shoulders. “What the hell, right?”
    Tristan pushes himself off the wall and stalks toward me. I swear I just heard Frankie gasp as Tristan grabs the back of my head with his hand before he crashes his mouth down on mine. Breathing him in as his mouth devours mine, everything else fades away and I have to stop myself because I’m about two seconds from pulling down my pants before I realize that Frankie is still here.
    “Tristan…” I breathe, but he ignores me and continues with this kiss, his tongue fervent.
    Fuck. I love this.
    Finally, I push off his chest slightly. His eyes are still closed as he pulls himself away, catching his