Hey guys! I know I'm late to the party, but I recently bought Grand Theft Auto V and fell absolutely in love with some of the characters (Franklin mostly lol, he's amazing). I decided to write a cute little Valentine's day one-shot with him and Tracey, I hope you guys enjoy it! This is in Tracey's point of view, and it takes place after the events of the game (choice C, death-wish), so just a heads up.

Tracey

The strong rays of the late afternoon sun streamed through my white window shades, illuminating my room with a warm golden glow. The soft hum of birdsong danced lightly in my ears. It was a beautiful day outside, but instead of enjoying it, I was trapped inside my house in my pajama shorts with nothing to do.

I laid on my bed, staring at my phone through wet, teary eyes. Everyone was gone—Mom, Dad, and even my idiot brother, Jimmy. My house was completely empty, silent and lonely. No one would bother to return my calls or texts. It was like I didn't exist. No one cared about me. I was a terrible person, a nuisance everyone wanted to avoid.

Today wasn't supposed to be like this. Valentine's Day was supposed to be special. Where was my knight in shining armor to whisk me away from this terrible, empty place? Where was my Prince Charming, and my hugs, and yummy milk chocolates? Didn't I deserve to be loved? I'll admit, I wasn't the best person in the world, I was far from it actually, but I deserved better than this. I was stuck in a nightmare—a dark and lonely, friend-less nightmare, and the struggle to wake up to reality was impossible. My life was literally in shambles.

I closed my sore eyes, and hugged my legs to my chest, silently wishing for something, or someone, to help piece together the broken shards of my miserable, pathetic life.

KNOCK! KNOCK!

The sudden, harsh noise snapped me out of my stupor. Startled, I leapt out of bed. Someone was at the front door.

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

I skulked out of my room into the plush, carpeted hall. Slowly, I descended the stairs. Could it be the police? Were they after my dad? My heart sped up. I knew it was only a matter of time before his deranged, psychotic ways caught up with him. Mom was going to be so pissed, he promised he'd go to therapy and stop being a lunatic. Typical Dad, he was such a liar.

I inched to the front door and stole a glance through the peek hole. There was a black guy on the other side, his warm, deep brown complexion gleamed beneath the sun's vibrant rays. He didn't look like a cop though, he wasn't wearing a uniform, and I didn't see any badge.

In fact, he had an urban swagger about him—a pair of dark joggers hung loose around his hips and hugged his toned legs. Half his face was hidden behind the brim of a black snapback, and his hands were buried within the pockets of his black designer hoodie as he waited patiently at the door. The man looked familiar, I've seen him before, but I couldn't put a finger on where exactly…

He was definitely a looker though, his shoulders were broad, and arms large. Maybe he played sports, football possibly. Regardless, he was nice on the eyes. At least, that's what it seemed like. I was looking at him through a teeny-tiny peephole, after all.

He was probably one of daddy's shady business partners. I let out a sigh of relief. Thankfully, it wasn't the police. Daddy wasn't home, and I wasn't in the mood to deal with any of his stupid friends, even if they happened to be tall, dark and handsome. Hopefully if I kept quiet, he'd get the memo and hit the road.

I crept back to my room and gazed furtively through my window blinds. From my vantage point, I could see the entire front of the house, including the sunshine glancing off the freshly mowed lawn, as well as the gravelly driveway. It didn't seem like the stranger planned on leaving anytime soon, unfortunately. He was stretched out on the front door steps, with his sporty, silver motorcycle parked in the driveway, casually tapping away at his green smartphone's screen. Ugh, why wouldn't he just go away? What did he want?

A black sedan with tinted windows abruptly swerved into the driveway, and broke into a hard stop. For a second, I thought it was Dad, but my hopes were quickly shot down as a scrawny boy with a headful of messy blonde curls hopped out of the vehicle. Wielding a camera in hand, he jogged toward the entrance of the house, his flip-flops slapped against the pavement with every step.

The blonde boy's lips curled in disgust at the sight of the man sitting on the steps. "Hey you, butler," he called out as he scrambled toward the house.

"What?" Nostrils flaring, Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome sprang into a stance, and blocked the blonde-haired boy's path. The blonde looked abnormally small and bony compared to the other male, he had to be at least a foot or so shorter. "Ay, man, who the fuck are you?" the stronger man's voice was shamelessly loud, and deep. When he spoke, he demanded attention, and everything else in the world seemed to come to a sudden halt. "And who the fuck you callin' a butler, dog?"

"Well, you certainly aren't a De Santa," the blonde boy smirked. "I mean, c'mon, look at you. You might not be wearing a butler's getup, but I can tell. I got eyes, buddy. Hey, you aren't trying to steal anything, right?"

"So just 'cause there's a black man in Rockford Hills, he's gotta be a fuckin' butler, or a thief? Is that what you think, punk ass motherfucker?" Hands balled into fists, the stronger man stalked toward the pencil-necked boy, his powerful frame hovered over him.

The boy cowered and launched his hands into the air defensively. "W-whoa, whoa, calm down bro, I'm sorry. I'm not racist, okay? I love black culture, and I'm down with the Black Lives Matter movement. I've been to a few of their rallies—"

"Man, like I give a fuck."

"Listen, I don't wanna fight, bro. Me and my pals, we're looking for Tracey De Santa. You know, the dumb, smoking hot blonde from Fame or Shame? Please, I just want an autograph. It'd be the perfect finishing touch for the shrine I'm making of her. You should see it man, it's amazing."

My stomach churned. He was the third obsessed stalker I've encountered this week. Muscles quivering, I pulled up the window, leaned out of it and shouted at the creep below. "Who are you calling dumb, freak?"

His eyes widened at the sight of me. "Tracey! I love you! Can I have your autograph?"

"No, you're never, ever going to get my autograph. So, you can just go home and jack off in front of your stupid shrine of me, because that's all you're ever going to get, sicko."

"Don't be such a selfish bitch," he snapped.

I gasped, my hand flew to my chest. How dare he? I was a second away from telling the creepy little turd to go screw himself, but the strong man quickly came to my defense, shoving the boy a few steps back.

"Watch yo' fuckin' mouth," the strong man threatened.

"Or what?" the blonde boy taunted. "You going to hit me, huh? Touch me, I dare you! I'll sue you into next week."

"Seriously?" I shouted out the window. "You are such a pussy! Do you have any idea who my dad is? Huh? Do you?" I pointed at the strong man. "Hey, you! Can you kick that creep's ass for me? He called me a bitch! He totally deserves it."

"Shit, my pleasure, girl," the strong man smirked, and cracked his knuckles.

Face turning ashen with fear, the blonde boy cringed, and slowly shrunk away toward his car. "W-wait, let's talk about this—"

Bam! The strong man punched the boy without a shred of restraint or remorse, the strike swept him off his feet and onto the pavement.

"Argh!" The blonde boy wailed, clenching his bruised face. "My nose! My fucking nose—god, why do you hit so hard?"

"Grow some balls, homie," the strong man grinned. "I wasn't even tryin'."

"Hit him again!" I demanded. "Don't stop now! I'm enjoying this."

The strong man glanced up at me. "I think he got the message, girl."

"Are you sure? Maybe you can stomp on him a couple of times? Or maybe run him over with your motorcycle, just to make it stick?"

The strong man merely chuckled, and then turned his attention back to the boy lying on the ground. "Go on, man, get yo' stupid ass outta here before I change my mind, dog."

"Fuck you, cocksucker," the veins in his face becoming engorged, the blonde boy reached underneath his polo shirt, and in an instant, a handgun leaped into view, pointed straight at the strong man.

I squealed, my joints locked in place, my entire body frozen. Time seemed to come to a slow. The blonde boy whistled, and the passenger doors of his black sedan suddenly opened. Three men exited the car—each of them just as scrawny as the blonde boy, one carrying a rope. They rushed to his side. The strong man stood completely still, feet rooted to the ground, he stared into the barrel of the gun, unfazed.

"Not so tough now, are you?" the blonde boy grinned, and his peanut gallery followed suit, laughing menacingly as well. "I'm gonna get that autograph whether you like it or not."

"Damn, y'all clowns really serious 'bout this shit, huh?" The strong man shook his head. "A'ight then, the fuck you waitin' for, dog? Pull the trigger, bitch."

"Get out of our way, and we won't have to. And don't even think about calling the police, we'll be long gone before they get here."

The strong man cautiously stepped aside.

"Bullshit, I'm gonna call the police," I cried. "You psychos!"

"The hell you are!" The blonde boy and his pencil-neck posse of morons charged toward the house.

I pulled away from the window, and hopped onto my bed, clawing through my sheets in search of my phone, the sound of my heartbeat thrashing in my ears. I was hyperventilating and panting like a dog in heat by the time I friggin' found it.

Bang! Bang! The stutter of gunfire filled the house. There was a shootout going on right outside my room!

I sprang up and twisted the lock to my door, hoping that'd be enough to hold the psychopaths off. Adrenaline pumping through my veins, I shifted my focus to getting in touch with the police, but my sweaty fingers wouldn't stop shaking.

"Shit, shit, shit," I muttered, frantically tapping my phone's screen awake, and dialing 911. I pressed my phone to my ear, eagerly waiting for an operator to answer. However, my call was answered by a stupid automated message instead.

"You've reached the Los Santos 911 center. We are currently experiencing a high volume of calls. Please hold, and stay on the line for the next available operator—"

"Are you kidding me?" I whimpered, pressing a hand to my sweaty forehead. This can't be happening. I felt so lightheaded. It was getting so hot in here; my skin was practically burning. I thought I was going to faint…

Snap! My door broke off its hinges and plummeted to the floor. I cringed, dropping my phone.

Three men appeared—the blonde boy who happened to still be armed with a gun, the strong man who was currently in the process of wrestling with the blonde boy, and then there was a third guy I didn't recognize. The third guy clung to the strong man's back like a spider monkey, arms wrapped tightly around his neck and legs straddling him in a desperate attempt to pin him down. Miraculously, the strong man managed to ignore the guy riding his back and focused on wrangling the pistol from the blonde boy's grasp.

My heart was on the verge of bursting from my chest as they tumbled into my room, engaged in heated combat. They carved a path of destruction in their wake, smashing and damaging my belongings as they scuffled. I skipped onto my bed for safety, successfully evading them.

"Hey!" I shouted as they bumped into my widescreen TV. "Be careful! My dad is going to be so pissed if you guys break that!"

"Tracey, I love you!" The guy riding the strong man's back yelled. "Marry me! I need the tax break."

"Ew, only in your wet dreams, creepo."

Thankfully, the strong man successfully grappled the pistol from the blonde boy's hand, and bashed his elbow into boy's face, knocking him senseless. I had no clue why he was fighting to defend me, but I was super glad. With the blonde boy out of the way, he managed to shake off the guy riding his back quite easily, flipping him onto the floor. The strong man drew the handgun he obtained from the dangerous ordeal and aimed it at the guy lying before him. Nostrils flaring, and broad chest rising and falling with harsh, rasping breaths, his finger touched the trigger.

I dropped down from my bed and clutched the strong man's sleeve. "Don't," I muttered.

He gazed at me, the smoldering anger in his eyes gradually faded, his deep brown stare softened. "Come on," he said, grasping my hand and leading me into the hall. The stench of sulfur filled my nose the moment we departed my room, and there were bullet holes all over the walls. My parents were gonna have a stroke if they saw the house in this condition…

The floor downstairs creaked with heavy footsteps. We weren't alone. There were crazy people still lurking around the house!

"What are we going to do?" I whispered, huddling close to the strong man.

His rough, calloused hand squeezed mine lightly, and he beckoned me to follow him. Our footsteps whispered over the floor as we made our advance to the end of the hall, past Jimmy's room. He led me into the bathroom, and eased the door closed behind him, turning the lock.

He proceeded to the window and carefully opened it. Quietly, he dipped low and climbed out into the warm, afternoon air, dropping down onto the patio's wooden awnings. I gaped at him from the window, hesitant to make a move. There wasn't much distance between the us and the patio, but I wasn't a fan of heights. My stomach twisted in knots. The thought of jumping out a window made me anxious…

"Come on, girl," the strong man muttered.

"I-I can't," I mumbled. "This is crazy."

He reached out to me. "It's a'ight, you can do this. I'll catch you."

Loud footsteps approached the door. The knob began to twist erratically. "I know you're in there," a menacing voice grumbled from the other side. "You can't hide from us forever. We're gonna get ya…"

I swallowed deeply. It was either jump out a window to safety or get caught by an obsessed stalker who probably wanted to lock me in a basement and wear my skin as a jacket. The choice was simple, I had to get the heck outta here.

My knees weak and wobbling, I crawled onto the windowsill, and stared at the awnings below. "Promise you'll catch me?"

"I got you," the strong man reassured.

I sucked in a deep breath. Okay, here goes nothing…

I jumped down, and the strong dude broke my fall, capturing me in his muscular arms with little effort. Thanks to the narrow distance between the awnings and the patio, he managed to drop to the ground with me still secured in his warm embrace. He whisked me to his motorcycle, and gently set me down. The gravelly driveway was uncomfortably hot and rough against my bare feet.

I winced. I was totally not dressed appropriately for the occasion.

We mounted the bike, and he turned on the ignition. The engine came to life and whined loudly, the exhaust pipes fuming. "Hold on tight," he demanded.

I clung to him, and we shot forward, peeling out of the driveway. Wind whipped against my face as we weaved between cars, blazing a path through the strangle of rush hour traffic. His uncaring attitude toward traffic laws reminded me so much of my dad. God, I was starting to get a feeling he was crazy too. But it was no surprise really, everyone in this city had a couple of screws loose in the noggin, me included.

Once we were a safe distance from my house, he reduced the speed, and we slowly cruised along with the drone of traffic.

"Holy shit," I sighed, my sight blurred with tears. "I can't… I can't believe that just happened."

"Yeah, that shit was crazy," he replied. "You good?"

"I'm fine," I sniffed. Although I tried my hardest to hold it back, tears spilled from my eyes, flowing down my cheeks uncontrollably, like a broken dam. My chin trembled. Cheeks burning with shame, I nuzzled my face against his back, hiding my sorrow. Never had I ever been so touchy with a stranger. But the warmth of his muscular body, and the tantalizing scent of cologne rising from his skin—a fresh, woodsy aroma, combined with subtle hues of cigarette smoke…it captivated me, begged me to linger and bask in his closeness for a little while longer.

I must had been going crazy, my feelings were all over the place—devastated from my near-death experience, but also relieved, and super grateful of the stranger who intervened. If it weren't for him, who knew what those jerks would had done to me?

"T-thanks," I managed to choke out, my voice barely a whisper.

"You sure you a'ight?" he asked.

I didn't have the strength to reply. I sat there quietly, listening to the motorcycle's purring engine, and the annoying honking of car horns as we slowly drove forward.

"Yo, my name's Franklin, in case you were wonderin'," he said.

I cleared my sore throat. "S-shouldn't we call the police, or something? Those nutjobs are still at my house, who knows what they're doing. They could be looking through all my stuff and stealing my belongings—those creeps could be sniffing my panties as we speak!"

"If they are, let's be glad the desperate motherfuckers only got your panties, shit coulda gone much worse. We can't get the Five-O involved though."

"What? Why not?"

"I work for your dad, a'ight? And you probably already know, or have some idea, that the big ass house you got, and the rich ass lifestyle you live wasn't earned the legitimate way. The last thing you want is a police investigation on your property, it ain't the best way to keep skeletons buried."

"Are you saying my dad is some kind of petty criminal? I'll have you know that he's a movie producer now. He doesn't do illegal crap anymore."

"Fo' sho', I never said he was petty. When your pops makes moves, he makes 'em big."

"What do you mean? What kind of moves does he make, exactly?"

"Look, if your dad ain't tell you nothin', I ain't finna tell you either. That's between you and him."

"Ugh!" I whimpered, realizing I didn't have my phone. "This is horrible! I told my dad not go to on that stupid vacation, but he never listens to me."

"Yeah, he hit me up this mornin' talkin' 'bout it. Seemed real out of the blue."

"Yeah, it was a sudden, spur of the moment type of thing, for Valentine's Day. My mom talked him into it. They went to Hawaii, been gone since this morning."

"What 'bout Jimmy?" Franklin asked.

"He's hanging out with his gross drug dealer friend, and hasn't been returning my calls. He's such a self-entitled idiot. He treats me and my parents like doormats, like we're nothing more than his human servants."

"Jimmy ain't so bad. I mean yeah, he's an idiot, but he loves you, and your dad. He's just got a funny way of showin' it."

"Bullcrap. All he cares about is himself." I let out a long, drawn-out sigh. "I swear, my life cannot get any worse. I'm stuck out here with you, some friggin' stranger who's probably a psychotic, murdering, crack junkie like everyone else in this stupid, two-bit, crap city. With the amount of literal insanity that happens around here, I'm surprised the government hasn't quarantined the entire city and hired a firing squad to put us all out of our misery."

"Damn, you a real pleasure to be around, you know that?" Franklin teased. "You and your dad got a lot in common, both of y'all depressin' as shit. Yo' pops sees a shrink, don't he? Maybe he can recommend you—"

I gasped. "Seriously? I'm glad you saved my ass and everything, but you don't have to be such a judgmental asshole."

He chuckled. "What's good with all the name callin'? Am I psychotic, murderin', crack junkie? Or a judgmental asshole?"

"You're both, howbow dah? If you don't like it, you can cash me ousside. Now do me a favor and do an illegal U-turn right now. I wanna go home."

"As much as I wanna take yo' ungrateful ass home, I can't. Your pops would kill me if somethin' happened to you. The reason I dropped by your crib in the first place is 'cause your dad called in a favor—he wanted me to babysit."

"What?" I blinked. "Are you kidding? I'm twenty-four years old, I don't need a babysitter. I'm a fully functioning adult."

"Coulda fooled me, girl."

"And if I had to choose someone to babysit me," I continued, "it wouldn't be a criminal, like yourself, no offense. I'd rather have a sweet old grandma who can make a killer batch of homemade cookies and milk."

"Grandma woulda had a hard time fightin' off them motherfuckers who were after you. She ain't gon' be makin' too many cookies after them dudes pop a cap in her ass."

"Not funny," I frowned.

"Look," Franklin paused to sigh. "Your pops made the right call, you need somebody watchin' out for you while he's gone. He said he'd be back by tomorrow, so we gotta deal with one another until then. Once he's back, we can deal with the fucks who tried to hurt you, and you can go back to doin' whatever yo' spoiled ass be doin' on the daily basis. Sound good?"

I grimaced, his words repeated in my head—'spoiled', 'ungrateful'. Maybe I was a little spoiled, and sometimes I was ungrateful, but it wasn't on purpose. I really was happy he saved me. I guess I did have something in common with Jimmy, we both had a crappy way of showing how appreciative we were of other people.

"H-hey," I mumbled. "I was being a bitch, wasn't I? I can't help it sometimes. No, I'm not on my period or anything like that, I'm just emotional, and tired of everything going wrong in my life, so what I'm trying to say is—I'm sorry."

"Uh…" Franklin's body tensed as he fumbled for words. "Yeah, don't mention it. I know how it feels when shit keep goin' wrong, and after what you been through, I don't blame you for bein' upset. It's all good."

I smiled, relieved that he accepted my apology. I was absolute crap at apologizing and admitting my mistakes out loud. I wanted to be a better person, not the spoiled brat everyone made me out to be. Realizing that my family and I were all dysfunctional sociopaths was a vital part of the recovery process, at least that's what Dr. Friedlander said.

"Ay, you like Suburban?" Franklin asked.

"The clothing store?" I shrugged my shoulders. "I guess it's not bad. Why?"

"There's one nearby. Let's get you somethin' to wear."

"Thanks, but I don't have any money on me."

"Don't worry 'bout the paper, I got you."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. Can't have you out here barefoot."

"Okay," I feigned a smile. "Um, thanks. I'll pay you back as soon as I get a chance."

"Really, don't worry 'bout the expenses. I got you."

After five painful minutes later of slowly inching forward through traffic, the sun had begun to dip behind the horizon, painting the city skyline in deep shades of red and pink. A large Suburban store soon appeared in the distance. Once we neared it, Franklin made a curving right off the main road and we glided into the clothing store's parking lot. He nosed into a space and cut the engine. The place was a lot more busy than usual, cars pulled in and out of the parking lot, and crowds of shoppers could be seen inside through the large, storefront windows.

A wave of heat shimmered over the busy lot, the humidity caused my hair to frizz. I swept it into a pony-tail and wiped my sticky hands on my purple pajama shorts. My stomach dropped at the thought of my bare feet touching the dirt, the city ground was layered with trash, litter and broken glass.

Franklin rose from the bike and gazed at me.

My face burned beneath his warm, studious stare. "What?"

"I know you ain't plannin' on walkin' 'round here with no shoes. Motherfuckers might think it's weird, me carryin' around a half-naked white girl," Franklin formed a sad smile. "Not only that, but you look like, well, shit."

"Huh?" I peered into his motorcycle's rear window. My face was as red as a tomato, black streaks of makeup stained my cheeks from crying earlier, my pink eyeshadow was smeared near my forehead. My hair was a disaster zone. "Oh my god," I cried. He was totally right, I looked horrible—worse than the five-dollar hookers my dad used to bring home. "I'm a celebrity, Franklin! I can't be seen like this. Do you have any idea what the tabloids are going to say?"

"Chill, stop drawin' attention to yourself," Franklin grumbled. "Stay here, and keep your head down, a'ight? I'll get you some shoes, and then you can come in the store with me and pick out somethin' nice to wear, if you want."

"Don't leave me, I can't be alone like this—"

"I'll be right back, girl."

Franklin jogged toward the store.

"I'm a size six!" I called out to him. "Oh, and I prefer sandals, open toe please, so I can show off my new pedicure!"

He waved a hand at me in dismissal, disappearing through the automatic sliding doors. I took his advice, bowing my head and hiding my face against the silver fairings of his motorcycle. If paparazzi showed up, I was screwed…

I stood in front of the narrow bathroom mirror within the Suburban store and gawked at myself. It felt like ages before Franklin returned to get me, but he eventually came, and bought me a pair of tan colored, open toe sandals, just as I requested. The straps were embellished with small, sparkly jewels. The gems probably weren't real, considering Suburban wasn't the kind of high end place I was used to shopping at, but it'd have to do. Surprisingly, I kinda liked it.

I struck a pose in the mirror, admiring my new pair of blue skinny jeans, and my white spaghetti strap top. Simple, but effective. Now all that was left to do was fix my makeup. I washed away the impurities on my face with damp water, and happily exited the lady's room. It reeked of perfume in there.

Franklin waited patiently for me outside the bathroom. He escorted me through the store's automatic doors, and into the warm, evening air. Night had fallen over Los Santos, but the city was still bustling, cars, and buses passed us by in a hurry, repeatedly honking their horns as they sped along the street. Franklin and I made a slow advance through the parking lot toward his motorcycle, side by side.

I gazed at him, curious of the dangerous, yet generous stranger. At my angle, the flat brim of his hat did little to hide his face, the street lamps illuminated his youthful brown complexion. He was attractive in rugged, masculine way, his bone structure sharply sculpted and cheeks adorned with a neatly trimmed beard. His nose was wide, and lips full, but usually pressed in a slight scowl—grumpy much?

Chin held high, he emanated an aura of self-assured arrogance, the wide-legged gait of his powerful body taking up more space than needed. There was an inherent strength in his broad shouldered posture. Strong, proud cheekbones chiseled out of a face of masculine, dark beauty—he was a man others would think twice about crossing. It was intimidating to say the least, but intriguing all the same.

My brows furrowed in thought. Was he always this grumpy? Regardless of his rigid demeanor, his deep brown skin and ruggedly handsome face glowed with a mysterious elegance beneath the stars. Sure, he was rough around the edges, but there was a glint of softness within his profound amber gaze, and I longed to explore it.

He glanced at me, probably realizing I've been staring at him this whole time. Our gazes locked, a glint of confidence shone in his intensely gorgeous gaze. His eyes seemed to change color under the influence of the bright lights, a starburst of a gold danced within his pupils. Captivated by his beautiful eyes, my pulse raced, his heavenly scent graced my nostrils. He smelled good, really good. It had to be cologne, or body wash, maybe.

He was a lot different from the guys I was accustomed to. I didn't mind, it was like a breath of fresh air, a welcome change.

I broke out in nervous giggles due to the extended eye contact, my gaze dropped to the ground. He chuckled too, his laugh was light, and adorable. How old was he? He looked young, maybe in his early twenties, but his eyes were wise. He claimed he worked with my dad, and he seemed to know a lot about my family, but I didn't know much about him. Maybe it was time to do some prying.

"That was really gentlemanly of you," I murmured. "Buying an entire outfit for me. You didn't have to do that."

"Yeah, well…" Franklin formed a weak smile. "It's cool. I've been workin' on buildin' up my karma lately."

"I think you've really impressed the karmic gods today." I crouched on the leathery seat on his motorcycle, and gaped at the dark, cloudy sky. "This is totally not how I expected my Valentine's Day to go."

"Yeah?" He stood beside me. "How'd you expect it to go?"

"For one, I was supposed to be hanging out with friends. We made plans to go to Vespucci Beach, just us single ladies—that is, until they all secured a date out of the blue, and bailed on me. There's an awesome festival taking place there tonight in celebration of Valentine's Day, I wanted to go there so bad. People can be so freaking unreliable, right?"

"I learned not to expect shit from anyone. That way, you never get disappointed."

"That doesn't sound like a fun lesson to learn. Do people usually disappoint you?"

"All the fuckin' time. It's just a part of life." Franklin reclaimed his seat on the motorcycle. "Ay, you still down to go to that festival?"

My brows narrowed. "Seriously? You'll take me there?"

"Fo' sho', we can kick it. I ain't got shit to do, and since we stuck together, we might as well have a good time."

"Fuck yes, let's go!" I locked my arms around his waist as he turned on the motorcycle's ignition. "We have to go on the Ferris wheel. And I need ice cream, or maybe cake— I am dying for some sweets."

"You always this damn bossy?" He flattened the gas pedal, and we surged onto the lively, city street.

It was a lengthy, and surprisingly enjoyable drive to Vespucci, considering we weren't stuck in rush hour traffic the entire time. Franklin really cranked up the speed once we maneuvered onto the freeway. Los Santos was full of shitty drivers, but thankfully, Franklin was one of the good ones—maybe the best one I've had the pleasure of riding with to date.

We zipped past and cut in front of every vehicle in our way, wind whipped through my hair, and cooled my skin, warding away the humidity. My surroundings became little more than a blur as we accelerated down the road, adrenaline pumped through my veins. Although I was having the time of my life, it was hard to ignore the little voice in my head warning me that speeding, and reckless driving could very well end up with us both dying horribly. However, I did my best not to be a worrywart, and allowed myself to relax, and enjoy the ride.

Franklin parked on the curbside across the street from the beach. The sidewalk was crowded with people making their way to and from the festival. A huge, sparkling Ferris wheel could be seen in the distance. Loud music, screaming and laughter filled my ears, and the delicious smell of fried foods seeped into my nostrils. My stomach growled. I took Franklin's hand and using my nose as a guide, I followed the yummy aroma.

We crossed the street onto a sandy boardwalk and made a right onto the bustling fairground. There were all sorts of people here, from noisy teenagers and cute couples, to seniors in wheelchairs. Sticky-faced children carried around stuffed animals, while others rode the glowing carousel placed in the center of the fairground, laughing happily as it slowly went around and around. Big canvas tents surrounded the area, hosting a wide variety of carnival games, such as ring tossing and target practice. There was even a petting zoo! Out of the many activities to take part in, my attention was drawn to the red food trailer selling fried goodies beside the ring tossing tent.

There was a lengthy line of hungry people waiting to make an order. I was too starved to be deterred from my quest for food, however. I hustled toward the trailer, my feet sinking into the warm sand with every step, and secured a spot at the end of the line. Thankfully, it wasn't a long wait. I ordered a funnel cake, which Franklin volunteered to pay for, and we took a seat on a nearby bench.

"This is great," I said with a mouthful of fried, powdery goodness. "You should seriously try this."

"Nah, I'm good," Franklin replied. "It's all yours, looks like you really enjoyin' that."

"I am, but I hate eating alone." I ripped off a piece of my cake and held it to his full lips. "Take a bite, c'mon. You know you want to."

"A'ight, a'ight." He took a bite. "Mmm, that ain't bad." He nodded in approval, savoring the taste before swallowing it down. "That shit ain't bad at all. Gimme another piece?"

"Nope, I don't think so," I teased, shifting away from him. "You didn't say please."

"So?" Franklin's face twisted into a scowl. "You want me to beg or some shit?"

"Um…" I paused to clear my throat, thrown off guard by his sudden irritable mood. "Just a little?"

"Nope, you can keep yo' greasy ass cake then."

"Oh my gosh, don't be such a grouch," I shoved the cake in front of his face. "Here, you can take the whole thing."

"Nah, I don't want it anymore."

"Frank!" I clung to his powerfully built arm. "I'm sorry. You don't have to beg, okay?"

Franklin's annoyed expression abruptly cracked, and a devilish smirk spread across his handsome face. "It's cool, I was just playin' with you, girl."

I let out a sigh of relief. "Holy crap, has anyone ever told you how scary you look when you're mad?"

"Yeah, a couple of times. You straight?" He pressed a thumb to the corner of my mouth, gently wiping away specks of powdered sugar lingering near my lips. "I ain't mean to scare you. Don't sic your pops on me, a'ight?"

Heat rose to my cheeks. I lowered my head, hoping he didn't realize I was blushing. Damn it, Tracey, pull yourself together. Stop being so awkward. "Er…you aren't scared of my dad, are you?"

"Nah, but I know how protective he is of you and Jimmy. The smallest shit sets him off."

"Fine, but no more being a grouch, or pretending to be one, anyway. I'm not having a very good day, and at this very moment in time, I'm feeling super vulnerable, and I just need a friend, okay? Now shut up, and let me clog your colon pipes with processed, sugary goodness."

Franklin chuckled, and opened his mouth. I tore off long pieces of mouthwatering funnel cake, and hand fed it to him.

"So…" I murmured, watching his sculpted jaw flex as he chewed. "Who are you, really?"

"Told you already," he said with his mouth full, "me and your pops do business together."

"How'd you guys meet?"

"I used to do repo, boostin' cars and shit, I met Michael on the job. Ended up gettin' fired, and he hooked me up with some work."

"Oh, sorry you lost your job. That must've sucked."

"Nah, it was a good thing. If that shit ain't happen, I wouldn't have sought your dad out for help. I woulda never made it out the hood."

"Wow, you used to live in the hood?" I gasped. "What was it like? Lots of drive-bys, drug deals and gang violence? Like in the movies?"

"Yeah, somethin' like that," he chuckled. "Lived there for years. It doesn't happen as often as it does in the movies though. Forum Drive ain't a warzone, but livin' there wasn't easy either. Most motherfuckers 'round the block ain't have shit to live for, they'd creep on a nigga for dollar and change if they could."

"Jeez, they'd kill someone for only a dollar?"

"Well, maybe not just a dollar, I was exaggeratin', girl. But you get the point, right?"

"Yeah, I think so. How'd you survive as long as you did?"

"I joined a gang, and kept my fuckin' head down, that's how."

My eyes widened. "You joined a gang? Oh my god, why?"

"Where I'm from, gangs are a necessary evil. You rep the set, and your homies watch your back. Gangbanging is all I've ever known, I was raised into that shit. And after my moms and grandma died, all I had was my homies. Hustlin' helped pay the bills. I ain't make much, but somethin' was better than nothin'."

"What about your dad? He couldn't help you?"

"Never met him."

I frowned. "Oh…" I fed him the final piece of funnel cake.

Franklin devoured it and turned away. "Yeah, his bitch ass ran for the hills after my moms got pregnant with me."

"Frank, that's…" I fumbled for the right words. As annoying as my parents were at times, the thought of losing them forever caused a sudden pang in my chest. "That's horrible. I'm sorry."

"It's all good. Shit happens."

"No, it's not 'all good'. You don't have to act all macho, like it doesn't hurt, because I know it does." I threw my arms around his broad shoulders and held him tight.

As if he had never had a hug in his entire life, his powerful body tensed, and froze completely.

"My life sucks, but not nearly as much as yours," I said. "And when I'm feeling like crap about it, I get angry and lash out, but in reality, I just want a hug, and someone to tell me things will be okay. So here's your hug, whether you want one or not, and here's me telling you that everything will be okay."

He remained silent, seemingly immersed in deep contemplation. What was he thinking? I don't know how long I held him before the tension in his muscles began to loosen. Slow and hesitant, his arms enclosed around me. I felt so tiny in his embrace, yet safe. Everything around me had melted away, his powerful arms worked like a shield, blocking out the rest of the terrible world. In a flash, my loneliness and sadness was swept away, and had been replaced with a warm, fluttering sensation in my chest. I fell very much in love with the feeling, all of it was brand new to me. It left me breathless and yearning for more.

"Are you okay?" I asked, smoothing my hand over his strong neck, my fingers brushed over the neatly shaved sides of his head.

"I'm good," he said, his voice had grown quiet, and soft. "It's just, you're sweet. I ain't really used to the lovey-dovey shit."

"Do you like it?"

"Well shit, I don't hate it. You ain't this nice to everyone, are you?"

"No, I hate most people." I reluctantly pulled away, immediately missing his warmth.

"Yeah, me too." Franklin stood, and I followed suit. I didn't realize we were holding hands, our fingers intertwined. "How 'bout we go catch a ride on the Ferris wheel?"

I smiled. "Great idea."

We strolled along the beach, heading toward the Ferris wheel, taking our sweet time. I was enjoying Franklin's company, maybe he wasn't a crazy psychopath after all. Although, it was too early to make any real, logical judgements about his character. His dark past worried me, as well as his affiliation with my father.

He's must had done a lot of bad things, being a former gang member and all. I've heard countless news reports concerning the senseless violence that took place in his old neighborhood. Chances were, if he lived there for years, he might've been involved in some of the violence. Clearly, he knew how to handle himself, he fought off those creeps who broke into my house all on his own. There wasn't a glimpse of fear in his eyes when they pulled a gun on him either. An average person would of shit their pants. But someone who's had a brush with death countless times could probably remain calm in a dangerous situation like that.

If that was the case, it was no wonder Franklin had a chip on his shoulder. Life dealt him an unfair hand. I was intrigued by the mysterious man, but also, a little afraid. Not for myself though, I knew he wouldn't hurt me, he was aware of what my dad would do if he tried anything. I was scared for everyone else. Earlier today at my house, if I didn't intervene during his fight with the creeps in my room, would he had killed them?

All these deep, complex thoughts were beginning to hurt my brain. I willed them away as we neared the target shooting gallery tent. The cutest, little stuffed panda bear caught my eye, he dangled from the roof, all on his lonesome. He looked so sad, just blowing in the wind, patiently waiting for someone to take him home.

"Franklin!" I dragged him to the tent, bouncing from foot to foot energetically as I pointed at the adorable panda. "Look at him, isn't he cute?"

A heavily suntanned man posted beside the tent flashed us a toothless smile. "Hit three targets, and the panda is all yours," he said, tilting his straw hat to greet us. "One-dollar per round, four shots each—that means you can only miss once. Whaddaya say? Why not win your lady something nice?"

"A'ight homie, I'm down," Franklin whipped out his wallet and handed over a dollar bill. He took hold of the toy rifle lying on the counter. "Hope this shit ain't rigged, dog."

"No siree, we're honest folk 'round here. Local law enforcement double checked our games the moment we set up shop in these parts. Everything is fair-and-square, I assure you. Now if you've got experience with handling a gun, hitting those targets should be easier than a drunk hillbilly sliding off a greasy log backward."

"Okay…" Franklin mumbled awkwardly. I took a few steps back to give him some space. He aimed at the row of red, circular targets in this distance, hanging at the far end of the tent. They were small, and were slowly rotating from side to side. It didn't seem like an easy game, not by far.

"You got this!" I cheered. "Pretend it's someone you hate, like the police!"

"That ain't helpin'," he grumbled, taking the shot. One of the targets jerked back as a small pebble collided with it.

"Bullseye!" The straw-hat man pumped his fist into the air. "Yee-haw! Two more to go."

Franklin hit the last two targets in quick succession. I squealed, giddy with excitement, and ran to him. He captured my petite frame in his arms, lifted me off my feet, and spun me around in a playful hug. We broke out in giggles, and I could feel the heat of people's stares as we goofed around, but I didn't give a crap. For a fleeting moment, he was the very center of my attention, and there was peace in the world, nothing else mattered.

"Well slap a diaper on my behind and call me a baby—you've gone and done it," the straw-hat man declared. He reached up and freed the cute panda bear from captivity. "Here ya go," he handed the bear over to Franklin.

Franklin flashed a warm, pearly white smile, and presented the stuffed animal to me. "Happy Valentine's Day, girl."

"Thank you," I beamed at him. "You're the best person in the entire world!"

"Ain't never heard that one before." A shy chuckle escaped him, and a subtle rosiness grew visible on his beautiful brown skin. I couldn't believe he was blushing.

I was so happy, but not because I had a new stuffed bear to add to my collection. No, there was more to it than that. He put time and effort into winning it for me. It made the gift far more sentimental. To think, I'd still be sad and alone, wasting away in my room if it weren't for him—assuming those creeps decided not to break into my house in the first place, of course.

"So, we got our grub on, and now that you've got your little animal friend, think we're ready for the main attraction?" Franklin asked.

"Totally," I nodded.

The shades of the evening had grown deeper, and the activity in the fairground had begun to fizzle out. It was a Wednesday night, and whether it was school or work, most people had responsibilities to take care of in the morning. It was great timing, the line to board the Ferris wheel was short and sweet. Franklin purchased our tickets and we hopped into the padded seats of a shiny red cart, side by side.

The wheel rotated at a slow pace, easing us above ground and into the night air. We rose higher and higher. The majestic beauty of the city's deep blue skyline came into view, so many different shades of bright, glowing lights, and tall buildings—it was mesmerizing. The moon towered over the metropolis, it's silvery radiance illuminated the starless sky. I leaned my head on Franklin's shoulder, and quietly admired the stunning scenery.

A cold, salty breeze swept over me, sending a chill down my spine.

"Jeez," I shivered. "How'd it get so cold all of a sudden?"

"Come here," he settled a hand on my waist, and I snuggled close to him, basking in his warmth. Good thing he was wearing a hoodie, the nighttime weather was frigid this time of year. "Feel better?" he asked.

"Lots better," I smiled. "Thanks again, by the way, for turning my crap day into a good one."

"Yeah, I know you were havin' a hard time. I wanted to make you feel better, figured the festival would be a good place to start. Listen, my crib ain't far from where you live, you can lay low there 'til your pops gets back, if it's cool with you? Beats the alternatives, right?"

"Yeah, I'd like that. God, I owe you big time, Frank, for everything."

"Nah, you don't owe me shit, girl."

"I do!" I pinched his bearded cheek. "I owe you so much."

He gazed at me, and our eyes locked. Our faces were so close, his warm breath on my neck, I licked my lips, my mouth moistening. As if under a spell, I was entranced by the ruggedly handsome man, a pang of lust and desire clenched my chest. I wanted him, I needed him—

Franklin abruptly pulled back, his body shifted away from me.

I stared at him blankly, confused. My cheeks burned with embarrassment. "Hey, are you okay?"

"Uh, yeah, I'm good," he feigned a smile. "I'm just enjoyin' the view, the city's beautiful, ain't it?"

"Sure," I muttered, unconvinced.

We drove back to Vinewood Hills after the Ferris wheel ride. I couldn't stop thinking about our almost kiss the entire way there. Why did he turn away? Was I reading him wrong? I felt like there was a spark between us. Maybe I was being too pushy. He probably thought I was annoying, or desperate. Ugh, I ruined everything. My life was over. I wish I could just tie cement blocks to my legs and jump in a lake—that would be better than living a horrible life of constant pain and suffering.

I shook my head, trying to block out the negative thoughts. As much as I wanted to throw a tantrum, it probably wasn't the best idea to do so while on a motorcycle. I had to find a way to control my temper for the time being. Tomorrow morning when I'm back in the safety of my own home, I could cope with my anger like a totally normal, fully functional adult—by punching the floor and screaming at the top of my lungs for however long I liked. That way, no one could judge me, except my parents and my idiot brother. They were used to it though, so it was no biggie.

We arrived at a gray, two-story modern house on a hill. Although the shadows of the night had veiled much of the home's stone paneled exterior, I could see over most of the flat, charcoal colored roof. The property wasn't very tall, perhaps only ten feet, but it was definitely wide, stretching far across the hillside. A sleek white car was parked outside the garage, adjacent to the road. Franklin unlocked the solid, hardwood entrance of his home, and escorted me inside.

A wave of cold air hit me the moment I stepped through the door. A large Rottweiler appeared to greet us. Curious, his tiny brown eyes studied me for a moment. The creature's muscles were practically bulging, and his dark coat was sleek and shiny. Tiny cropped tail wagging energetically, the dog leapt at me like a puppy, his large body almost knocked me over. My face and hands were covered with sticky slobber in a matter of seconds, the dog's smooth tongue tickled my skin. I laughed, my heart beating fast as I hugged and wrestled playfully with the strong, loving creature.

"Chill out, Chop-Chop," Franklin grabbed the dog's green collar, and yanked him back. "You a'ight, Trace?"

"I'm fine," I winced at my slob drenched hand. "A little wet though. You never told me you had a dog, doofus."

"He ain't actually mine, I'm dog sittin' for one of my homies. Chop's been livin' with me for the longest though, got nothin' but love for little homie."

Franklin led me down a narrow hall, and into his living room. It was a dim-lit area, picture perfect and neat, like a furniture catalog cover page. I was hesitant to sit on the maroon couch, worried that I'd wrinkle or stain the spotless, plush fabric. Hip-hop music played softly from a small radio in the corner, and traces of cigarette smoke, pine needles, and cologne scented the space.

"Make yourself comfortable, girl," Franklin said, kicking off his shoes. "What's mine is yours. I'ma make some calls, see if I can finally get through to your pops." He turned, and disappeared into the hall.

With Franklin gone, I decided to wander about the spacious sitting area, admiring the abstract art tacked to the creamy walls, and the polished, oak wood floors, devoid of dust and clutter. His house had such enormous windows. Through them, I could see into the heart of the city. Fog and shadows blurred the mess of buildings, but the lights glittered through the night like falling stars, bright and never-ending, stretching as far as the eye could see.

It was an amazing sight.

I explored the house for a short time longer, I had to find the bathroom to cleanse my face and hands of Chop's slobber. Once I was done, I found myself drawn right back to the windows, mesmerized by the city's sparkling radiance.

There was a sensation of soft fur brushing against my legs. It was Chop, his big head nuzzled me for attention. I sunk to the floor, and the beautiful creature cuddled up to me. I loved the comforting weight of his fluffy noggin in my lap. I stroked my fingers through his fur, and held my panda bear tight to my chest.

With my two new furry friends by my side, everything in the world felt right. Maybe I didn't need to throw tantrums to cope with my anger. I needed companionship, someone to be there for me whenever I felt like my life was in shambles. A dog would be perfect, assuming I could find one as cute and loving as Chop, and my panda.

"Trace?" Franklin called out to me.

I turned, and spotted him lounging on the maroon couch, with a glass red wine between his fingers. "Oh, hey," I smiled at him. "I didn't realize you were back."

"It's cool. Looks like you and Chop are gettin' along."

"Chop is the best, he's such a good boy."

"Little homie knows how to behave in front of the ladies. The moment you leave though, he'll be back to eatin' up everythin' in the house, and shittin' anywhere he wants. For real, I ain't never had a dog who shit so damn much. You don't even wanna know how big his turds be, girl. Sometimes that shit be like twelve inches long and—"

"Seriously Frank, ew," I cringed. "First of all, that's like, way too much information. Second of all, do you usually go around measuring dog poop with a ruler?"

He grinned. "Nah, I don't. My bad, I got carried away. By the way, I still can't get ahold of your pops."

I sighed. "I hope he's okay."

"Me too. I talked to Jimmy though, he's spendin' the night with one of his homies. How 'bout you? You good? Need anythin'?"

"I'm fine."

"You sure? You ain't tired? Hungry? Thirsty?"

"I am kinda thirsty." I scrambled into a stance, plopped down on the couch beside him and snatched the wine glass from his hand. "Thanks," I swallowed it in one gulp, savoring the sweet, crispy taste.

"Damn," Franklin smiled. "You coulda just asked. I got bottles on top of bottles of Moscato."

"Where? Gimme, gimme, I need more booze in my life."

He stood and forged for the hall. "Maybe some alcohol will put her bossy little ass to sleep," he grumbled to himself.

I cleared my throat loudly. "Excuse me? What'd you say?"

"Nothin'," he replied innocently.

Franklin returned a few seconds later with another wine glass, and a brand-new bottle of Moscato. He poured a generous amount into both our cups. I gazed at the reddish liquid, and the crystal ice cubes floating near the rim of my glass. Mom and Dad never trusted me to drink responsibly. I was twenty-four years old, damn it, and still, they'd hide the alcohol so Jimmy and I couldn't find it. Now that my parents weren't around to stop me, I didn't hesitate to throw my head back and drink it all down. Franklin followed suit, draining his glass shortly after me. I was already beginning to feel a buzz, my insides tingled, and it felt damn good.

I shoved my empty cup toward him. "Hook me up, big boy."

"You must be trippin'," Franklin shook his head. "You had enough, I ain't sure if I can handle you gettin' anymore crazy than you already are."

"Who are you? My dad?" I clutched the Moscato bottle and poured us another drink. "Here, you need to loosen up. C'mon, drink it, it'll be fun." I nudged him playfully. "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon—"

"A'ight, a'ight," he grumbled between clenched teeth. "Let's get faded, fuck it."

We chugged our wine, and then refilled our glasses, repeating the process all over again. A warm, fuzzy sensation flushed through me. Franklin leaned forward, and slipped out of his hoodie, revealing a white tank top underneath.

Franklin was a living work of art, his muscles defined and bulging, his beautiful brown skin unblemished. Every slight movement he made gave away at his strength. I found myself gawking at him, slack-jawed, I was tempted to reach out to him. One touch wouldn't hurt, would it? Maybe it was the alcohol talking, playing games with my mind, intensifying his rugged good looks. The urge to molest him was growing stronger by the minute. But I had to resist, I had to behave like a proper lady, for as long as I could at least.

"So," Franklin broke the silence. "What's the real reason you couldn't find nobody to take you out today?"

"Uh…" It was a struggle, but I managed to take my eyes off him, snapping out of my lust-induced trance. "I told you already, my girlfriends bailed on me."

"Ain't you like a celebrity?"

"I'm known worldwide for my awesome Fame or Shame audition, so yes, I am a celebrity. And, might I add, I made it to the final round, easy-peasy."

"Cool, 'cept you didn't win."

I rolled my eyes. "Who cares, I'm still a celebrity, got it?"

"A'ight, my bad, girl. Relax, I'm just teasin'," he smiled. "I bet niggas would do anythin' for a chance to take you on a date. Your Lifeinvader inbox probably blowin' up right now as we speak."

"Of course, I'll have you know that there's plenty of dudes who want a piece of this. Unfortunately, a large portion of them are deranged, and need to be in straitjackets. Don't you remember what happened earlier?"

"Yeah, yo' obsessed ass fans got tilted over a fuckin' autograph, so they broke into your crib and tried to kidnap you."

"What makes you so sure they were going to kidnap me?"

"It's just an educated guess. When some fools pull up to a chick's crib with a gun, some rope and their car windows tinted, it's a safe assumption they probably tryna snatch her."

I sighed heavily. "I miss my life before the fame. Everything was so simple. I used to have privacy, you know? Hey, can I ask you a question?"

"Shoot."

I shifted toward him, our knees brushed. "Why'd you save me? They had a gun. Weren't you scared? What if they shot you?"

"I did it for your pops." He shrugged his shoulders. "Just 'cause a situation seems scary, don't mean you gotta run from it. Dealin' with it, and comin' out the other side makes you stronger. Ain't the first gun a nigga pulled on me, probably won't be the last."

"Okay, but you could've dropped me at some crappy hotel, and called it a day. You didn't have to buy me clothes, take me to a festival, feed me and give me gifts."

"What? Don't think you're worth all that?"

I sighed. "I'd like to think so, but sometimes, I'm not too sure."

Silent and attentive, Franklin studied me. Bewilderingly, there was genuine compassion in his eyes, his soft gaze alone had soothed me. I wasn't used to this kind of intimacy, but I didn't shy away from it. It was nice to know someone in the world cared.

"A lot of the time, I feel like I ain't shit either," Franklin said, his voice low and gentle. "It's like a little voice constantly gnawin' at the back of my mind, plantin' seeds of doubt and shit. But you can't let the doubts win, girl. You, me, and everyone else in the world, whether they're crazy fucks or not—everybody needs someone to have their back when shit gets rough. You needed someone to be there for you today, so I stepped in, and it was worth it, every moment of it. Makin' you smile, girl, was the highlight of my day."

"Aw, Frank…" Tongue-tangled by his sweet words, I flung myself toward him, playfully, my head landed in his lap, and my arms around his waist.

He chuckled, threading his fingers through my blonde locks. His touch was soothing, calming. In a perfect world, I could linger here forever, never growing tired of his warmth and closeness.

"What a day, huh?" I touched a hand over his stomach, tracing my finger along the hard lines of his sculpted abdomen through his shirt. "I thought for sure I was dead meat when those dudes broke into my house. I can't believe I'm here, alive and breathing, taking refuge in a strange house with a man I barely know. And for some reason, I'm perfectly fine with it. There's nowhere else I rather be."

"If anythin', a near-death experience should teach you to live life to the fullest," Franklin replied, he squeezed my hand lightly. "Tomorrow ain't promised. So, enjoy yourself, a good time is what you need, it helps get your mind off things."

"You're right. Do you think there's a chance they'll come after me again?"

"Nah, I'm with you, you're safe. Can't nobody hurt you."

"I know. I don't mean to be a worrywart but, it just sucks sometimes, living in a world that's so frightening. I wish things could be different. I wish I could walk down the street alone at night, without worrying about someone lurking in the shadows, trying to hurt me. I wish I could accept a drink at a party without wondering whether someone spiked it. I wish I didn't have to double check if my doors are locked before bed, afraid that someone might barge in…"

Brown eyes laced with concern, Franklin's calloused fingertips massaged my skin as he listened to me, his expression thoughtful.

"I don't want to always play the victim, but it feels like its the only card I've ever been dealt," I continued. "It doesn't help that people are so judgmental. They think I don't have a problem in the world, just because of my financial status. Sure, it's great to have nice things, but if you don't have love and companionship, friends and family who understand you and accept you for who you are, then what good is the money anyway?"

"I feel you," he said. "From the outside lookin' in, it seems like rich motherfuckers have perfect fuckin' lives—mansions, nice cars, jewelry, expensive clothes, plastic bodies, maids… but it's all smoke and mirrors. Everybody got problems, rich assholes included, they just different from broke ass people problems."

"That's a good way of putting it. I feel like I've been whining about my problems all day. It's your turn now. Let's be tipsy, whiny, and depressed together."

"Well shit, if you were to ask me what I thought about this shit a few months ago, my answer woulda been completely different. I used to think money solved everythin'. I fantasied about fast cars, beautiful women, a giant ass crib, the best fuckin' weed a nigga could possibly afford. Shit, I put every fiber of my being into hustlin'. I didn't give a fuck about the sacrifices I made, the bridges I burnt, the people I hurt. And finally, I got everythin' I wanted." He let out a long, drawn out sigh before continuing. "Sometimes, when I look back on it, when I'm in this empty ass house, full of all my nice ass material shit that nobody gives a fuck about, you know how I feel?"

"Tell me," I mumbled.

"Dead," he answered. "I feel really fuckin' dead. I think that's the scariest part, not the loneliness or remorse—it's the lyin' awake night after night, 'cause you can't sleep, and you're too empty inside to shed a tear, or even fuckin' care. It's a vicious cycle, a miserable, fucked up cycle. How's that for being tipsy, and depressin' as shit?"

My stomach tightened. "That's gotta be the most depressing thing I've ever heard. You don't feel that way right now, do you?"

"Nah," he sighed, and flashed a sweet, pearly white smile. "I'm feelin' good right now, chillin' here with you."

"Good." I cupped his cheek, the sensation of his beard rubbing against my skin tickled. A yawn escaped me. I rubbed at my eyes, my limbs felt heavy.

"Gettin' tired now, huh?" Franklin asked.

"Yeah." I grasped his broad shoulders and began to, very lazily, pull myself up. In the process of my sluggish attempt to climb to my feet, Franklin's strong, blunt fingers seized my waist. With surprising gentleness, he drew me into his embrace. My behind settled on his lap, I hugged him tight, the warm sensation of our bodies pressed together caused my stomach to flutter.

His arm slipped under my legs, and he lifted my frail body into the air with ease, carrying me bridal-style. Cradled in the protection of his powerful arms, I buried my face in his smooth neck, breathing in this scent of his skin. Franklin's earthy cologne smelled heavenly, clean like freshly cut timber. Subtle hints of cigarette smoke and sweat worked its way into the mix, rising from the collar of his shirt. Altogether, his aroma was tantalizingly addictive. Like a drug, I continued to breathe him in, unable to get enough.

He carried me into the hall, and down a flight of narrow steps, making a sharp left into a dim-lit, air-conditioned bedroom. It was wide, with a glass walk-in closet, and a neatly made king-sized bed. The white walls were adorned with a collection of framed sports memorabilia—autographed baseball and basketball jerseys. There were posters of famous old school rappers as well, OG Loc and Madd Dogg.

Franklin whisked me across the gray tiled floor, and lowered my petite frame onto the satiny mattress.

"Isn't this your bed?" I asked, rubbing my fingers over the incredibly soft comforter.

"It's yours for the night," he replied.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'll take the couch."

"A-are you sure? I don't mind sleeping on the couch, it's no biggie, really—"

"This ain't up for debate," Franklin declared.

"Fine." I kicked off my sandals, placed my panda bear on the wood nightstand, and laid back, trying to get comfortable. Although his bed was way more luxurious than mine, the mattress composed of firm memory foam, there was nothing like home. I missed my room, it was like my own tiny sanctuary.

As if I was a helpless, small child, Franklin pulled back the sheets and tucked me in.

I rested my head on the cool, plush pillows. "You didn't have to do that, silly. I'm not a baby, you know."

"Coulda fooled me," he teased, pulling away.

Annoyed, I latched onto his shirt, yanking him close, his bulky upper body hovered over me. "I'm serious," I argued, throwing the stupid covers off me. "Sure, I'm still living with my parents, and yes, they spoil me like hell, but that doesn't mean I'm a stupid, ditzy blonde who can't take care of herself and make her own decisions."

He blinked. "Chill, girl. I ain't say all that."

"Yes, you did. That little snide comment you made said it all."

Franklin smirked, spots of gold danced within his brown gaze. I snickered nervously, stupefied by his enigmatic, whiskey colored eyes, and the thick lashes which framed them. Suddenly, by a random, involuntary impulse, I found myself fascinated with his lips, my fingertips skimmed over them lightly. They were soft and full, not at all chapped. I wanted to taste them, even if he was a judgmental jerk. He remained still, brows furrowed in curiosity as I caressed him.

"Trace," Franklin muttered. "Do you normally be feelin' people up like this, or should I be flattered?"

"You should be super flattered right now." My desire swept away my inhibitions, and I leaned in, pressing my lips to the corner of his mouth. Instead of kissing me back, his face nuzzled mine, the bristly sensation of his beard caused me to grin. But in truth, I was frustrated. He seemed to be exercising restraint, his muscles tensed, and neck corded. I had no idea why he was playing so hard to get, but I gladly accepted the challenge.

My lips enveloped his earlobe, nibbling lightly. He sighed deeply as I planted a delicate trail of kisses along his thick neck, slowly working my way down to his collarbone. Franklin shivered, and drew a ragged breath.

"Trace," he mumbled, his breathing heavy, and uneven. "I don't…I don't think this is a good idea, baby."

"What's stopping us?" I asked between kisses. His resistance was slowly crumbling under my influence, his broad palms caressed my thighs. I flushed, my temperature skyrocketed. "I want you," I whispered, swirling my tongue over the base of his throat, stimulating his skin gently.

Abruptly, and with bruising strength, Franklin gripped my waist and threw me aside the bed. I yelped, surprised by his sudden roughness. He climbed on top of me, and sealed his lips over mine, taking possession of my mouth. It was a sloppy kiss, long and passionate, with the strong scent of sweet wine being traded between our hot, interweaving breaths. His lips were so soft and full, exotic and vastly different than I was accustomed to, but I loved it.

I squirmed beneath his powerful body, a burning dart of pleasure zipped through me. For the first time in my life, I felt completely powerless, his hands tightened over my wrists, pinning me down, restricting my movement. I moaned into his mouth, surprisingly enjoying the erotic feeling of total surrender.

I parted my lips, eager for the taste and feel of his tongue stroking mine. The first sensual swipe of his tongue left me shaking, breathless, and yearning for more. He settled himself between my thighs, our bodies molded together. I caressed his huge, muscled arms, relishing the feeling of pure, unprecedented strength beneath my fingertips. The pleasurable sensation of his hardness bulging through the confides of his joggers, and grinding against me with every slight movement he made flooded my core with heat.

I let out a tight whimper as he broke the kiss. His lips lowered to my neck, consuming me in a rush of wet, frantic kisses. I bit my lip, my insides boiled with desire.

"Frank…" I murmured between panting breaths.

Suddenly, and without warning, his body froze at the sound of my voice. "Fuck," he cursed, scrambling off the bed and tearing away from me in a hurry.

My stomach dropped. "F-Frank?" I asked, perching myself up. I stared at him incredulously, confused by his weird behavior. "What's the matter?"

"The fuck is wrong with me?" he muttered to himself, his husky voice barely a whisper. His broad chest rose and fell heavily as he struggled to catch his breath.

Frustrated, I ran to him, my fingers clenched his white tank top. "Tell me what's wrong."

"We can't do this, Trace. I'm sorry."

"W-what? Why?"

"We just can't, a'ight?" Franklin attempted to slip past me, but I refused to loosen my grip on his shirt. He glared at me, a stony expression on his face. "Let go," he demanded.

"No," I stared back into his intense, smoldering eyes fearlessly. "Aren't you tired of being miserable and alone? Because I sure as hell am. Don't you want to be happy?"

"Well shit, doesn't everybody?"

"So, what's the problem then? Why are you acting like such a weirdo?"

"Yo' pops is the problem," he blurted out, roughly jerking himself from my grasp. "He ain't gon' approve of this shit, girl, and you fuckin' know it. Who knows what that dramatic motherfucker would do if he found out?"

"Seriously?" I yelled, pulling at my hair. "Franklin, I'm an adult, who gives two shits what my dad thinks—"

"I care!" He shouted over me. I trembled, unnerved by his intimidating, booming voice. I recoiled, shrinking away to the bed, hugging my legs to my chest.

Franklin pressed his back to the wall, and sunk to the floor, his head bowed. An uncomfortable silence filled the room. I didn't know what to think, or what to do. One second he was sweet, kind and understanding, and the next, he was inexplicably angry, cold and irritable. In a way, his erratic demeanor reminded me of Uncle T, but on a much smaller, less deranged scale.

"My bad," Franklin was the first to speak, his voice weak. "I ain't mean to come off like that, sweetie. I'm sorry."

I nodded, his apology seemed sincere.

"I owe everythin' to your pops," he continued. "This house, my car… shit, if it wasn't for him, I'd be six feet under by now, buried and forgotten—another cliché, tragic fuckin' story of another stupid nigga who got clipped in the hood. I knew where all the gangbanging and hustlin' was leadin', but I didn't give a fuck. I was ready to die, ain't have nothin' to live for. Nobody gave a shit about me anyway."

"Franklin…" I fumbled, unsure of what to say.

"And then your pops came along. He taught me a lot, helped me move up in the world, showed me the finer shit in life. He's like, the father I ain't never had, you feel me? Sure, he's crazy as shit, but he's the only person in the fucked-up world that hasn't failed me yet. Tryin' to get in his daughter's pants is one hell of a way of sayin' thank you, don't you think? I mean, damn, I know I'm a piece of shit, but I'm tryin' to be better."

"Stop it, you're not a bad person, Frank."

"You don't know me, girl." He laughed stiffly. "I ain't the type of guy anybody would want their daughter to date. If you weren't so fuckin' naive, you'd be runnin' for the hills right now."

I watched Franklin intently. Who was it that made him feel so undesirable, and hard to love? What terrible thing could had happened to him to make him so jaded? There was pain hidden behind his cold, flinty stare. His anger was nothing but a defense mechanism, he used it to keep others at a distance, maybe out of fear of vulnerability, or being hurt. The world hadn't been kind to him after all, a heart could only be broken so many times before you get tired of picking up the pieces.

He had every right to be angry and guarded. He appeared strong on the outside, but I could tell something inside him was very broken. I didn't know why, and I certainly didn't know how, but I wanted to make him feel whole again. I wanted to pick up the shattered pieces of his heart, and fit them back together, no matter how small the shards, no matter how long it took.

"There's more to it than just my dad, isn't there?" I asked.

He gazed at me. "What?"

"I get it now, the reason you're all alone. Correct me if I'm wrong—you've been hurt so many times that you're scared of being vulnerable. You listen, but you never trust, and you smile, and you laugh, but you never let anyone get close. That's why you feel empty, and dead inside, because you aren't really living. You have to take risks, be vulnerable, and allow yourself to feel something other than pain, anger and remorse. Don't let the loneliness eat away at you until there's nothing left."

Franklin was silent, his head bowed and elbow on his knee. He seemed to be brooding, his mind fully immersed in deep, melancholy thought.

"I know you and my dad have done some bad things," I said. "But you aren't the evil person you think you are. I know you have a good heart, it's just broken and hurting. And as far as I'm concerned, everyone who's turned their back on you in the past is missing out. I know we just met, and maybe I'm crazy like everyone else in this city, but I've seriously never felt more alive. Crazy stalkers aside, this has been the best day of my life—a Valentine's Day I'll never, ever forget. And it's all because of you, Franklin."

The stony expression on his face cracked, and he beamed at me fondly, his gaze warm and tender. "Damn, that was...sweet. You got a nigga feelin' all sorts of shit right now. Infatuation is a real bitch, ain't it?"

"It seriously is. It makes people say, and do crazy things." I reached out to him, making grabby hands. "Come here, you're so far away. I miss you."

He laughed and pulled himself up, rushing into my arms. His muscular body tackled me onto the bed, soft and playfully.

"You're so fat," I teased, shoving him aside and rolling on top of him.

"Nah, you just tiny," he replied, giving my butt a slight pinch. "We gotta get some meat on them bones, girl."

"Nope," I wrinkled my nose in protest. "I'm fun-sized, there's a difference."

"Uh-huh." His blunt fingers tickled my sides lightly.

I cackled, slapping his hand. "Stop! No tickling, I can't take it."

Franklin smirked, his face nuzzled mine sweetly. "There's a lot more to you than what's on the surface, Trace. You ain't afraid to express how you feel, I respect that. I wish I could be more like you, but it's hard. Maybe you can teach me some shit, you just gotta bear with me, baby."

"I'm with you, Frank, I promise."

He planted a delicate kiss on my cheek, and my skin tingled, butterflies in my stomach. I tangled my arms around his neck, and he hugged me close, his touch warm and cozy. Resting my head on his hard chest, I closed my eyes and listened to his calm tempo of his heartbeat. I never knew such a feeling of peace existed, I'd linger in his safe embrace forever if I could. His cuddles were like medicine, it soothed my mind, and rejuvenated my soul.

"Ay," Franklin murmured, his hand stroked my back lovingly. "This thing we got goin' on, whatever the fuck it is, I ain't too sure—let's hold off tellin' Michael, a'ight?"

"So he can go all protective psycho dad on you?" I grimaced. "Yeah, let's not tell him anything, ever."

It was difficult to fathom that before today, we were only strangers. I had no idea what we were now either, friends maybe, and hopefully, one day, something more. One thing was for sure though, I was captivated by his complexity, my curious heart ached to unravel his secrets, and tear down his defenses. There was so much I didn't know about his past, and his peculiar relationship with my dad. I intended to find out every bit of it, they couldn't hide the truth from me forever.

I hope you guys enjoyed reading, please leave a review, I'd love to know what you think! At the moment, this is currently just a one-shot, but I might continue it depending on the feedback I receive. So show some love if you'd like me to continue it. And if not, well I hoped you enjoyed this short bit anyway. :P Happy Valentine's Day guys!