ANGEL ROSE
The drive back to my apartment feels surreal, with Frankie’s headlights a constant presence in my rearview mirror. My mind keeps replaying his words from earlier. We can do this. I know we can. What did he mean by that? After the cold shoulder he gave me before I sang, the shift in his energy afterward has my heart doing a hopeful little tap dance. I wonder what his family said to him, but honestly? I like this version of Frankie a whole lot more.
After Lorenzo and Kassandra beat us at pool, we hung around for a bit. Frankie paid for drinks—and when the happy couple called it a night, I decided to head home too. The whole evening was a blur of flirty glances and slow, intentional dancing that left my skin tingling. When Frankie offered to follow me home to make sure I got in s
