Heart of Steel ~ Winn Schott

For Your Eyes Only

"Are we really going to have this argument again? It was cute the first time, but this is seriously getting ridiculous."

"Forgive me for thinking that there's something going on between you two. You're out all day doing God knows what, how am I supposed to know where you are?"

Frankie stared at Brad, her eyes wide. From the floor next to the nightstand, glistening light bounced off shattered glass and reflected onto the ceiling, reminding her to avoid bringing water to bed that night.

"I'm out every day trying to find a job so I can pay you back for this fucking apartment! I don't go out and get high at three in the afternoon and call it 'stockbroking,'" she yelled, adding air quotes for extra emphasis.

"You've spent months looking for a job, I'm finding it hard to believe that no one's hiring you."

"You did not just say that."

"Frankie, I swear, this kid has been calling you every day for the past month and you expect me to just act like it's nothing?"

"Who are you calling 'kid,' he's older than me!"

Brad stepped around Frankie and as he walked past, his shoulder brushed hers with just enough force to make her stumble. Righting herself quickly, she watched as he stormed back into the kitchen, picking up the containers that he'd brought home for dinner.

It was funny really, the amount of energy that she'd spent ignoring Winn. At first, it'd had something to do with trying to avoid this kind of situation, this exact argument, but once it became clear that there was nothing she could do to protect Brad's fragile masculinity, she'd kept turning Winn's almost constant calls to voicemail as a matter of habit.

Plus, she had no desire to make the situation any worse.

"You've never met Winn, how could you possibly know anything about him?" Frankie yelled, moving into the kitchen as well.

"He's a dude, dudes are all the same." Brad stopped in the middle of throwing the lobster box in the trash and whipped around to face her, pointing it in her general direction. Frankie had to suppress the urge to move out of the way, despite the number of feet still between them. "They don't call you like that unless they want to put it in! It's as simple as that."

"Just because you don't have a sensitive bone in your body doesn't mean every other guy in the world walks around with his dick in his hand twenty-four-seven."

"Fuck off, Frankie. I'm being serious, here."

"So am I!"

A knock from the front door stopped Brad from saying anything else and Frankie breathed a sigh of relief.

After a few seconds of neither of them moving, it became clear that he had no intention of opening the door, so Frankie walked over to the entrance and the closer she got, the more she could recognise the sound of sloshing liquid.

Now undeniably curious, Frankie opened the door and standing in the hall was a woman, looking absolutely exhausted, a baby asleep in a sling over her chest and a bottle of some frothed, milky looking beverage in her hand that she was shaking vigorously. As Frankie stood back to take her in, she stopped mixing the drink, but the sound of it carried down the hallway all the same, eerily echoing off the high stone walls.

"Hey, sorry guys but uh... my name's Joanna. I live underneath you- thirty-three B- and I hate to interrupt," the woman said quietly, not whispering, but clearly making a conscious effort to not disturb the baby she was carrying. "This is the third time this week I've noticed you two and I'm starting to get slightly concerned by the noise that's coming from up here."