Chapter 10
Gerard’s POV
I don’t know what made me take hold of Frank’s hand. It was just this weird, sudden impulse, and I acted upon it. I’m glad I did. His hand is warm, a sharp contrast to my icy skin. The heat warms my hand and spreads up my arm like fire.
Fire… don’t think about fire. Bad things happen when you think about fire, I mentally scold myself.
The walk from the front doors of the school to my car is short, but painful. I forgot to put my gloves on because I’m holding Frank’s hand, so my exposed skin stings. It feels like there’s a million tiny needles under my flesh, and they’re all trying to get out at once. My eyes hurt even worse, because I forgot my sunglasses. I try to walk as fast as I possibly can without dragging Frank or looking awkward.
When we finally reach my car, I reluctantly release Frank’s hand to open the passenger door. “After you,” I say politely, internally cursing myself as I do. It’s harder than it seems, trying to act modern.
Frank blushes slightly and climbs into the car, careful to not brush his injured leg against anything. I shut the door and get in to the driver’s seat.
“You have a really nice car,” Frank says in awe, stroking the black leather interior. “What kind is it?”
“An Aston Martin DB9…” I admit as I pull out of the parking lot, embarrassed. I hope I don’t come off as a… what do they call it? Douchebag. I don’t want to seem like a douchebag.
“Your parents got this for you??” Frank asks incredulously.
“Um…” I stammer. “It’s my mom’s car.” I blurt. Merda. I forgot a very important detail in my human masquerade. How am I supposed to explain that I live alone with my brother? My parents died back in Italy…
I shake my head as if I could shake off the memories. I don’t want to think about what happened to my parents now.
“And she lets you drive it?” Frank looks amazed.
“I… well, uh… my p-parents are never home, so…” God, I’m terrible at this. Where’s Mikey when you need him?
I could pop in now, if you’d like.
No! You’ll scare the shit out of him!
“What do they do?” Frank asks.
“They’re… art collectors.” I say unconvincingly. Okay, so that’s not really a job, but it’ll explain all the paintings around the house.
“Wow, that’s really neat!” Frank says, eating it all up. I feel bad for lying to him like this, but sometimes lying is better than telling the truth. And if Frank knew the truth… who knows what would happen.
“Want me to turn on the radio?” I ask quickly, eager to change the subject.
“Sure!” Frank answers. He looks at me and grins, lip ring glinting and eyes sparkling. Mio dio! I almost run over the curb. Frank is absolutely bello. He looks so small and precious against the black leather. His hair looks so touchable, his pink lips so kissable. And his skin… Dear god, his skin. I have to take a deep breath and look away in order to control myself.
“W-What station do you like?” I stammer, clutching the steering wheel tighter.
“Anything that plays rock or punk.” Frank grins again. Dannazione. This boy will be the death of me.
I turn the radio on and find a suitable station. Come As You Are by Nirvana drifts from the speakers. Frank instantly perks up a little in his seat. “I love Nirvana!” he exclaims.
