When Did Your Heart Go Missing?

Frank didn't stop until we'd reached a McDonalds about ten blocks away from the school. We sat on the fast food store's outside steps. We shared French fries because he's a vegetarian. And a soda because I'm broke.

Normally, a girl with a crush would be ecstatic to share a soda with the guy but...I'm more maturerer than that.

"You know, I saw Rodney..." Frank said 'subtly'.

"Do I care?" I asked rhetorically, even though I kind of did. But Frank's face lit up and he wrapped an arm around me.

"I'm so proud of you!" he said. I laughed. "But I do have something serious to ask you."

Serious? Frank? As in...both in the same sentence? This can't be good...

"Yeah?" I asked, nervously munching on a few fries.

"You guys really think my girlfriend is a bitch," he said this, sounding more like an accusation than a question.

I continued to nervously munch.

"Because you guys don't know her like I do," he continued.

"I wouldn't want to," I muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing."

But I knew he'd heard because he looked mad at me. "You used to be friends with her, Layla."

"Please just drop it, Frank. It's a nice day. We're eating decent French fries. Please don't ruin it."

Frank muttered something.

"What?" I asked.

"I said I'm not the one ruining it."

Don't you just hate awkward silences? Luckily for me, Frank did drop the subject. Unluckily for me, he brought up another that I didn't like.

"So what's with your mom?" he asked, taking a sip of our soda. I sigh.

"Nothing," I say. The most blatant lie...

"Liar. You have a goddamn scar on your head."

Frank touched my forehead briefly, where there had been a small cut not long ago from my mom hitting me against the bookshelf.

"I don't want to talk about it," I said softly, putting down the fry I had in my hand as I had lost my appetite.

"Then what do you want to talk about?" he said coldly. "Two depressed teenagers don't have much to talk about, huh?"

He sounded mad at me. I hugged my legs, bringing my knees to my chest. I felt suddenly alone.

"I'm sorry," Frank said softly. "I'm just...pissed, that's all."

"Go take it out on someone else," I hissed. He moved so that he was kneeling in front of me. I looked away. He grabbed both my wrists and pulled them away from my legs. He looked me in the eyes.

"Smile," he said softly. I refused. "For me? Please, Layla?"

I looked away. He pushed his palms on my knees, enabling me to extend my legs out. Now he was kneeling in between my legs and I couldn't help but look at him because...well, it was an awkward position.

He put his forehead against mine. I closed my eyes.

"I hate seeing you like this," he whispered over my lips.

Now I don't know who kissed who but before I knew it...well, we were kissing. Kissing. I felt ecstatic when Frank's tongue brushed mine. He was leaning into me so much, I had to put my elbows on the steps so that I wouldn't fall back. My face was in his hands. My hands were on his chest.

It was perfect. Pure bliss. I felt something kissing Frank that I didn't feel kissing all those other idiots. But-

"Shit!"

Frank pulled away. He pulled away.

"I'm so sorry," he breathed, sitting on the floor and looking horrified. Yes...horrified.

"I-I shouldn't have done that," he went on. Oh. So he had kissed me. And he's stuttering? Dear God...

"You already have too much to deal with, I'm so sorry."

I couldn't say a word. I stared at the floor. I was hugging my legs again. Frank hated kissing me and yet it was the greatest thing to me. He was apologizing, regretting...

I'm sorry, too, Frank.