Get To Know Me
“Tell me about your family.”
Frankie raises a curious eye and shrugs. It’s getting late. Three in the morning. The morning sunshine won’t be their best friend in a few hours. Noor’s changed into some cute pajamas and pulled back her gorgeous hair into a ponytail. She almost looks normal.
“What about them?”
“Tel me about them. Being related to you must mean they are extraordinary people.”
But Frankie laughs the sweet comment off.
“You’re always asking about my family. Why is that?”
“Because I forgot how it feels like, to have those kind of people,” Noor admits with a level of sadness that pains Frankie. “I love how you are surrounded by these amazing people.”
The blonde shrugs and sits back down next to her friend. She just got them both a new glass of water.
“Well, I told you about my sisters. Cece is engaged to Brad. June is … well, June. And Ellie’s the sweetheart, dating her high school boyfriend. Louis.”
“And what about your parents?”
Frankie likes that Noor is invested. For some reason, she has the feeling that Noor gains more out of this weird friendship than she does.
“Mom and dad are everyday people. They work, they go home, they watch TV all night. My sisters and I visit them once a week and when that happens, we talk, we eat and we laugh. It’s all pretty normal.”
She seems hesitant and Noor picks up on it. One soft caress of the hand is enough to make the dancer look up to her.
“I’m not really connected to them,” Frankie admits. “I like different things. It’s like I think differently as well. Take my dad, he has this completely prehistoric vision about a woman’s place in this society and the perfect jobs and stuff.”
“How is that?”
Frankie softly smiles: “He’d have trouble with you, to say the least.”
But Noor doesn’t understand.
“My dad’s awesome. He taught me how to ride a bike on a Sunday morning and took me fishing every other weekend when I was little. But he doesn’t love the idea that I didn’t go to college. Me dancing, that’s just a phase to him. It took him years to realize I wouldn’t be marrying my best friend from high school.”
Miguel. The singer giggles, but quickly realizes what she meant earlier.
“So he wouldn’t be crazy about a girl that makes money by singing?”
Frankie taps her slim fingers and wiggles her eyebrows: “Exactly. To him, even Cece’s being smarter and she doesn’t even have a job. She’s a housewife. Brad’s a talented lawyer, you see. He’s already made partner. So he provides for his family, which is the ultimate high in my dad’s standards.”
Noor wiggles her nose and shrugs.
“Well, it’s hard being a housewife, or a mom.”
“I know and I don’t mean it in a bad way. It’s just … I love dancing. I want to fill my life with dancing. But that’s not their way of thinking. My career isn’t valid, because it’s just dancing. It won’t get me anywhere. So Cece, the person doing nothing, gets more appreciation because of the man she’s about to marry. Because at least she has a successful fiancé. And since I’m a lesbian, there won’t ever be a man providing for me after my dream of wiggling my hips on stage fades out.”
“That’s sexist,” Noor tells her, slightly feeling offended by that explanation.
“He means well,” is the response. “Somehow, I understand what he’s talking about. But still … I would never want to depend on someone to buy me things or to live a happy life.”
“Well, I guess being the cutest and the gayest member of your family is hard. But someone has to do it, right?”
Frankie blushes. The words sounded too flirty, or maybe she’s just imagining things. Maybe she’s starting to get too invested in this friendship. This happened before. Her mind has cheated her on many occasions. Noor’s just a sweet girl, searching for a friend. Plus, she’s straight. And married.
They each have a sip of their drinks and fall back into the pillows of the massive couch. Frankie closes her eyes to think things through. Why the hell did she tell Noor about her family? It’s not like this is some kind of therapy session. In all fairness, Noor did open up about Aiden first. After finishing an entire bag of flavored potato chips earlier, the singer got up on her feet to pace up and down the length of the living room while talking about Aiden. They aren’t separating, at least not yet. Aiden thinks marriage counseling could work. Maybe he’s right. Frankie can’t imagine what it must be like, being married to a celebrity. It must be awful — like, in a privacy kind of way. No romantic dates without the flashing of cameras, no secret hideouts without locals turning you in, no ordinary fights in the supermarket about what to cook for dinner, because it’ll appear in tomorrow’s paper. By the time her rambling was done, they turned on the TV and a reporter happened to be talking about their delicate relationship situation. After listening to the story, spiked with lies and rumors, Noor promised to punch that bitch by accident on purpose some day. It made Frankie laugh — and turn off the television.
“Let’s go to bed,” Frankie suggests after remembering that part again, “before June gets home and she’ll keep you up until tomorrow morning.”
“I kind of like how weird she is. She has attitude.”
Frankie snorts after pulling herself up from the couch: “Yeah. Bad attitude.”
They crawl into bed and immediately fall asleep. June’s loud noises wake Noor up in the morning, so she leaves her friend behind on a search for coffee. After opening the bedroom door, a flabbergasted June freezes. The Morris girl just got up as well, covered in a ridiculously dated pajama suit and her curly hair all messy. It takes her three blinks before realizing she isn’t dreaming. It takes her another one to remind herself to act normal.
Noor nods politely, giving her the chance to work through her confusion.
“Good morning, June.”
While leaning to the left to find a sleeping Frankie in bed, June wiggles her nose.
“Good morning,” she repeats a bit hesitant.
She’s as dazzled as she could be. Did her sister turn the one and only Noor gay? Did she invite her to spend the night? Are they dating now? Or are they just really weird friends?
Noor curiously looks up after sitting down at the kitchen counter. It’s chilly in the house, but only because the heating was turned out for most of the night.
“Would you like some coffee?” June suggests while already walking toward the coffee machine.
Noor puts her head down on the wooden tablet and heaves a relieved sigh: “Yes, please!”
The restaurant owner smirks until she puts down the cup in front of her. She likes this version of her superstar idol. Even without makeup, she looks amazing. And without all the fame, she almost looks normal.
“How did you end up here? Did Frankie … invite you?”
Yes, June is sneaky like that. But Noor shakes her head convincingly.
“I asked if it’d be okay if I crashed. You don’t mind, do you?”
She slurps the coffee into her mouth and relaxes after tasting its heat. Best breakfast ever, though her personal coach forces her to eat healthy in the morning.
“Of course not. Always excited to have a famous person in my kitchen at eight o’clock.”
In response, she gets a heartwarming smile. June understands why Frankie seems so intoxicated by this girl. God, if only she’d sing one of her power ballads right now. It’d be rude to ask, though. Maybe later, when she’s taking a shower. Maybe she’ll do it then. June can listen in the nearby room.
The girls talk for a while, about the restaurant, about the world tour and how Frankie coped with being away from home. Noor tells June everything was fine, that they talked a lot and hung out all the time. June never allows any of her conflicting feelings about that to surface. She just nods and smiles. It’s fun to have Noor around, she realizes. But why is she?
“Why are you here?”
It’s her second cup of coffee, she couldn’t have misheard. June’s eyes do the talking and her temporary roommate picks up on it.
“I wanted to see her. I actually want to ask her something.”
Suddenly, the bedroom door flies open. It’s Frankie, escaping her beauty sleep by yawning uncontrollably. Her feet hurt from working all evening. Her mind is exhausted from all the talking.
“Ask me what?” she mumbles before walking straight toward the coffee machine.
She offers Noor a refill, but the girl kindly rejects. Noor realizes she heard them talking. An anxious feeling creeps up on her, the fear that she might have said something private, about what happened on tour. Something June wasn’t supposed to know. But that’s not the case.
“I wanted to offer you a job, actually.”
Confused about what that means, Frankie accidentally sounds annoyed: “Again?”
It makes June laugh. Must be the lack of sleep sneaking up on her younger sister’s manners.
Noor nods: “It’s a hectic time for me. Soon, I’ll be promoting another album —”
“But you just released Changer,” June interrupts.
“That was a year ago, actually, and my management is really pressuring me to release new material. I’ve been writing quite a lot, lately. Been in an out of the studio non-stop this last week. The first five songs were finished before the world tour even ended.”
Frankie is intrigued: “Wait? You write your own songs? Cool.”
Her level of genuine admiration makes Noor’s heart skip a beat. It shouldn’t, she realizes.
“And, why would you offer me a job? Again,” Frankie asks, while laughing about her last word.
The singer gets up from her chair and stretches her arms to get rid of her stiffness.
“Because I’ll be touring again. Not around the world, but through the country. I’ll be visiting radio stations and promoting my first single at events and talk shows. I need backup and Jamelia, the girl that’s been with me forever, is pregnant now. She can’t do it.”
Frankie remembers Jamelia. She was the lead dancer during the tour.
“So, you decided to stalk your favorite blonde dancer all the way to her home town, confront her at work and sneak into her bed to make the offer?”
The girls are confidently teasing each other in a flirty way. June can’t do anything but drink her coffee to stop herself from commenting on it. She has seen this before: Frankie falling head over heels for some unavailable girl. It always leads to heartbreak.
Noor and her manager are discussing details as Frankie is sitting in a nearby room. She’s never seen recording label from the inside. She actually just crossed Kelly Clarkson in the hallway, which almost made her faint. David still can’t seem to understand why Noor is so enchanted by this mystery dancer she met at a concert. Frankie scoffs after hearing his words reverberating from behind the closed door: neither can she.
“What is it about your new friend?” he wonders.
“What about her?”
David seems to clear his throat and hesitates: “I don’t know what it is. Why on earth would you drive over to her house in the middle of the night — twice — to convince her to come with you? And offer her a job. I mean, that’s why I’m here, Noor. I’m here to find your dancers, to manage all the details. To make sure it all fits in the plan. The concept of Noor.”
Noor sounds unimpressed: “Look, I can’t explain it. She’s weird, she has a strange sense of humor and she give me a hard time. And I like that. I want her around.”
David ultimately accepts defeat. He mumbles something about Mariah Carey being an easier client than her, but Noor walks through the door before he finishes that sentence. She winks at her favorite dancer and without saying a word, Frankie’s up on her feet, following her steps.
“Where are we going?” she asks.
“We just left there. Remember, June and I had a silent death stare contest over quitting my job the second time in less than a month?”
Noor snorts: “Yeah, hard to forget that. Your sister leaves quite the impression.”
Frankie almost seems insulted, but the touch of Noor’s hand on her skin makes it all better.
“You, my friend — you are the kind of girl people write songs about.”
The dancer holds the door for her and wiggles her eyebrows all excited: “That sounds promising. Now what were you talking about? Home?”
“Yeah. My home. It’s time to introduce you to my three cats and two dogs.”
Frankie bursts into laughter. Somehow, she can’t imagine Noor being a cat crazy person with too much pets to handle. After carefully examining the unimpressed face of her friend, she pulls a straight face. Shit, she is.
The roaring engine of a jeep takes them to a fancy neighborhood just outside of town.
“I keep signing contracts. I feel like a lawyer,” Frankie randomly says when she gets out of the car again with a bunch of papers in her hands.
Her fingers still hurt from the twenty pages she just put her autograph on. Her companion ignores the comment and opens the front door without even using a key. Something tells Frankie people rarely get past that impressive fence at the front of this domain without permission. The house is huge. It must have a dozen bedrooms. Why do people need so many rooms in the first place? As she walks into the hallway, the modern art dazzles her. This is fancy. This is one fancy home.
A cute chihuahua runs straight at her and licks the side of her feet. Frankie pets him on the head and tells Noor just how cute the little vanilla-colored cutie is. Okay, that’s number one.
Noor invites her to the kitchen and proudly spreads her arms to welcome Frankie to her home. The dancer complements her on the house. It’s amazing. It’s all she ever imagined about a celebrity’s crib. From the corner of her eyes, she spies two white cats lying in the corner of the room.
“Do you have a pool?” she wonders, not too shy to ask.
“Of course I have a pool. Who doesn’t have a pool?”
Frankie smirks and awaits the exact moment Noor realizes the mistake she made. It takes two seconds and then suddenly, a raging panic controls her face. Her eyes apologize, but the blonde just has a laugh about it.
“Isn’t it crazy to just invite me to your house? I mean, we barely know each other.”
The singer walks around the counter and doesn’t stop walking until she’s less than a breath apart from Frankie. She smells delicious, like candy at a carnival. The way her muscled body is positioned for her to see, how the clothes drape around her skin, how her face lights up a room — it dazzles her. It has since the day they met.
“Don’t be silly. We know each other,” she whispers barely audible. “Besides, we’ve slept together multiple times.”
She flashes a suggestive look and Frankie has a hard time controlling herself.
“Well, I’ve slept with plenty of people I barely know,” the dancer utters to shoot back at her.
She can’t go too far in this. The thing she allows herself to do, though, is stare at those pouty lips in front of her. They look delicious. Kissing them might paralyze her. It wouldn’t surprise her a bit.
The magic gets broken when the front door slams shut. The girls back away from each other and turn toward the doorway, where Aiden appears after a few seconds. His joyous face drops the second he notices the girls.
“Noor!” he gasps, taken by surprise. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”
“Neither did I. I came to get some stuff. New York is calling.”
Frankie looks at her and freaks out internally. New York? They’re going to New York? She didn’t pack enough clothes to cross the country.
Noor walks over to her husband, graces a peck on his cheek and disappears from the room. The second she escapes from his view, she heaves a tensed sigh. Her head feels warm, her body is tingling. What is going on?
“Nice to see you again, Frankie.”
She looks up to him and tries to remember as much as possible about their drunk night in Berlin. Sadly, not much is being received by the brain.
“Hi, Mr. Stonewell.”
He chuckles: “Please, call me Aiden. Dancing around all drunk in a country across the ocean clears the room for familiarity.”
Frankie fakes a smirk. Flirting with his wife doesn’t. Her fingers flatten on the coldness of the counter as her mind tries to come up with small talk. Sadly, Frankie sucks at making small talk.
“Did Noor ask you to replace Jamelia? I heard she’s getting a baby. How exciting. You know, a while ago, Noor and I were —”
He stops himself from talking and suddenly looks a lot more sad. Frankie’s happy he didn’t finish that sentence. Something tells her she wouldn’t have liked it. His feet bring him to the big windows that lead to the garden. She follows his steps and remains quiet. This house is massive. She’d probably get lost on her way to the bathroom at night. Mental note to always take her phone wherever she goes around here. It has a flashlight. And GPS.
“Did Noor decorate this place?” she wonders.
He bashfully shakes his head: “I did. Got a little interest in designing rooms.”
She’s impressed, as she should be: “Nice.”
Her lower lips curls downward and he smiles.
“Come on. Ask me.”
“You want to know …”
She tightens her eyes and shrugs: “I want to know what?”
“Whether or not I have a sports room.”
That’s when she starts to get that desperate tingly feeling in her stomach. He, too, can see right through her. She weirdly likes him, even though he’s being a dick to his wife from time to time.
“Well, do you?”
His expression says it all. As soon as he leaves the room, Frankie tails him. They walk through six other rooms before they finally reach a door that leads downstairs. She walks straight past him and lets herself in. When she turns on the lights of the basement area, her jaw drops. Everywhere around, there are sports items. There’s signed baseball bats and basketball shirts from legends that don’t even grace the earth anymore. Olympic Medals, MVP awards, National Championship belts, … She needs to remind herself to keep breathing as her tiny shoes walk across the basketball-patterned floor. In the corner, there’s a line of comfort chairs that face a massive television screen. The little bar on the right even has a popcorn machine.
“Is this heaven?” Frankie gasps as she puts one hand on her chest.
Her other one goes searching for Aiden’s sleeve. He chuckles, but might actually have to prove her right about this one.
“You should come over during baseball season to watch some games with some of my friends. Or a football match. NBA is popular too.”
He claps his hands all excited, which kind of surprises her.
“Oh! European soccer. Nothing as thrilling as European soccer.”
An impressed Frankie simply nods, putting both fists in her waist. The guy is right.
“Yeah, I thought I’d find you here,” Noor announces as she’s entering the room. “Ready, Sporty Spice? We need to get going.”
The singer seems unimpressed by the sports history decorating this place. It might be the only thing that Frankie doesn’t like about her.
“Can I live here?” the blonde sneakily asks Aiden, drenched with the behavior of a five-year-old, before turning around to leave this sanctuary.
He chuckles again and winks at her. She takes that as a yes.
“Can we talk when you get back?” Aiden wonders.
Obviously, it’s addressed to Noor. She nods. The fact that she isn’t sure when exactly she’ll return relaxes her nerves. Those two obviously need to discuss things, it’s the getting to it part that takes the most effort.
“See you soon,” she says in a soft voice.
She puts her hand on Frankie’s lower back to guide them both out of the room. It’s rather affectionate and Frankie can’t help but feel a bit awkward with Aiden being around. Fortunately, he doesn’t notice a thing.
The dancer can’t shake the impression that all of this is happening in a haze. Looking back, it feels like she just woke up yesterday. But for some reason, a world tour, a week filled with undefinable heartbreak and a departure to New York happened. She falls asleep in the car that takes them to the airport. By the time she wakes up, her suitcase is already on a luggage cart. She hears airplanes in the distance.
“Okay. Boarding pass. Passports.”
Noor hastily digs through her purse and heaves a relieved sigh. Normally, she has assistants to do this for her. But they’re in New York already. When she looks up, she finds her friend too drowsy to function in a normal way. She playfully slaps Frankie’s thighs, it immediately snaps her out of the post-napping state. They get out of the SUV and both put on their shades to hide from the sunlight.
“Come on, sleepy. Before you fall asleep again. Or the paparazzi find us.”
Frankie yawns and scratches her temple before nudging toward the side of the parking lot.
“You mean those people?”
Five men, dressed in black, holding massive cameras. Noor sighs annoyed and grabs Frankie’s hand. The driver follows them with their luggage. The guys catch up with them in no time. Making a way through all the flashing lights is new to Frankie. There wasn’t such a big fuss about Noor in Europe, but maybe that’s because they treat their celebrities different over the ocean. The singer never lets go of her dancer’s hand, which calms both of them down. The guys are nice, though. They compliment the ladies on their casual outfits. Frankie has to have a look before remembering what she threw on this morning. Just some comfy jeans and a shirt. It’s too warm to wear a hoodie. On her right, it suddenly strikes her how breathtakingly beautiful Noor is looking. A black pants and a loose shirt, that’s all it takes for her to transform into a superstar. Those sunglasses accompanying the attitude and you have it.
Noor tells her to keep quiet around the photographers and she does as she’s told. After checking in, silence returns. No one around dares to ask for an autograph. It’s like this is the only place where Noor can wander around in peace. She gets recognized, for sure, but people are too occupied with their travel plans and flight schedules.
They board the plane, they get escorted to their seats, the plane takes off a few minutes later. After reaching the desired altitude, Noor relaxes completely. She heaves a relieved sigh and curls up in the comfortable VIP chairs. Frankie never flew on this section of the plane. After looking back — literally — she suddenly feels bad for the other people around. There’s so much space for her feet. The chairs are softer, wider, better. She tucks away the little bag she was holding and straightens her back. A stewardess offers her a cup of coffee and of course she accepts. It’s decaf, but maybe the idea of coffee will be enough to keep her awake. It tastes better than she expected. Still, not exactly Nespresso or anything. Noor’s eyes wander to a notebook hidden in the bag Frankie just positioned in front of her feet.
“What’s that? I’ve seen it in your room while we were on tour. Are you a secret songwriter?”
Frankie chuckles and shakes her head: “God, no. I’d suck at writing songs. They’d all be about sports and boobs.”
“They can’t all be love songs, can they?” Noor shrugs. “Then what is it? Or is it a secret?”
Frankie isn’t sure how to explain it. It’s something that goes wherever she goes. It’s been that way since forever. Every year, there’s a new one.
“It kind of is. It’s … Well, some people would call it a diary. But I call it my MoodBook.”
Noor frowns all intrigued.
“One day, I’ll get it patented,” Frankie brags too confident. “It’s private. It helps me whenever I feel — well, lost or worried. Or angry.”
“Or in love?”
The words surprise the dancer, so she refrains from looking Noor in the eyes when she nods. Her entire body is heating up from nervousness. A silence fills the time as they both watch the stewards run up and down the small isle. It must be hard, working on a plane. And this section definitely has some dicks ordering them around ever other second. Frankie knows what it’s like, serving people. It can be horrible.
“Let’s do something fun. Come on, I just had a coffee,” Frankie proposes.
If Noor’s being honest, she was just about ready to take a nap. So she yawns and clears her throat.
“It was decaf.”
Frankie shrugs: ”Still coffee. The thought alone will keep me awake … Let’s watch a movie.”
If this was Aiden, she’d tell him to fuck off and close her eyes to fall asleep. But it’s Frankie. And Frankie has that weird effect on her. Noor gives in. They search for a movie they both like and share the earplugs. Their heads are close together and as the story unfolds, the girls feel less uneasy about that. Ten minutes before it ends, Frankie startles by the touch of Noor’s unbalanced head on her shoulder. She fell asleep. She tried very hard not to, but her fatigue has won the fight. And now she’s asleep on Frankie’s shoulder, which makes the dancer more nervous than ever. At the same time, it feels exciting and relaxing.
Noor told her Kennedy will meet them in the big city. She’ll join them on their little promotion tour. Two back up dancers and a singer. One new song.
“That radio show was amazing,” Frankie gasps after entering the hotel.
Night is falling. Kennedy grabs her biceps and kisses the side of her flushed cheek, like it’s a normal thing to do. Noor will join them in a minute. She had to take a different car for some reason.
A week ago, the girls realized how much they had missed dancing together while they were apart. Kennedy and Frankie got two hours to rehearse their routines again. They only needed one.
“Tomorrow there’ll be two performances. The day after that, three,” Kennedy huffs, crazy excited about the level of exhaustion that has taken over her.
They’ve done twelve in the last week. Everyone is loving Noor’s latest single — it got them even more gigs.
Kennedy kissed Frankie in her hotel room on the third night of their little trip. They were in New York back then. Frankie let her. She even enjoyed it. She enjoyed it to the point that sleeping with her seemed an inevitable option. Their hands were already crossing lines. But then a loud pounding on the door surprised them and Noor’s voice made sure Frankie stopped kissing Kennedy instantly. She diverted her body away from the girl with the speed of light and heaved a loud sigh to come back to her senses. When she answered the door, Noor stood there all innocent and cute. She said she felt lonely and wanted to talk. It took her a while before noticing Kennedy sitting on the edge of the cabinet. That’s when she asked if she was interrupting something. Frankie tried to blur the lines between yes and no, but shrugged instead.
“Would you mind if I borrowed her for just a second? I need my friend,” Noor apologized.
Frankie wasn’t sure if she realized anything of what was going on. Did Noor even have the slightest idea that Kennedy and her had been making out on previous occasions? Or was she completely oblivious? Kennedy answered as an employee when she offered her colleague on a silver tray. And though Frankie turned around and looked at her apologetic, she couldn’t help but feeling glad that she got to spend the night talking to Noor instead of sweating and panting in bed with that hot dancer that left her body all worked up.
It’s been that way every night. Frankie and Kennedy flirt like crazy and hang around in each other’s room. But then Noor invites her favorite girl to dinner, or she wants to show her some broadway piece or historical building. They travelled through New York, Miami and DC by now. Thanks to this job, the part-time waitress has seen more of this country than she had ever dreamed of. Kennedy hangs out with David — Noor’s manager — and the prep team that’s there to glam Noor 24/7. She’s the kind of girl that doesn’t expect too much of Frankie. They are playing, wasting time, ceasing opportunities that are too easy to let them slip.
Kennedy grabs Frankie’s hand suggestively while walking toward the elevator. The tips of her fingers slowly caress the inside of Frankie’s palm. It tickles.
“Want to come up to my room?”
It’s almost a sigh when she says it and Kennedy notices. It takes her a second before guessing what’s going on.
“Noor has plans for you?”
The blonde smiles and nods. She likes being handled like this. She likes the preferential treatment and new adventures. At the same time, Noor gets to ventilate her problems. It works both ways, this arrangement.
“Maybe somewhere this week? She has a fancy dinner with her manager and some fashion designer in a couple of days. I bet she won’t need me.”
Kennedy wiggles her eyes after the elevator doors open and she gets in.
“I might be wrong, but something tells me Noor needs you all the time.”
Frankie heart skips a beat. Somewhere deep inside, she hopes Kennedy is right about that. Of course, she won’t allow her mind to agree with her heart.
“See you tomorrow, sexy.”
Frankie smiles: “Good night, Kennedy.”
The doors close and Frankie can finally shake that feeling off. That feeling that makes her want to throw Kennedy against the wall and kiss her until they both need to gasp for air. That feeling that makes her dream about having sex with her. The girl is just so sexy — so carelessly, naturally sexy. And at least she’s available.
Loud noises disturb her state of mind and when she turns around, she sees Noor entering the lobby with David by her side. They just faced a storm of paparazzi and waiting fans. Compassion and adoration fill Frankie’s body instantly. She could never live like this.
The singer runs straight at her and trades her frustration for genuine happiness to see her friend again so soon. They go up to the penthouse and order room service. When Frankie curiously asks about their plans for tonight, her friend mysteriously smiles.
“What about a quiet night in? You won’t mind, would you? Watch some movies, order some popcorn, try and not to talk so much like we always do.”
The blonde nods, then takes the remote away from her boss. After carefully examining the options, she suggests an action movie. Of course, Noor refuses: she wants romance. Since there’s currently none in her life, she at least wants to witness it on screen.
“God, no. No, Noor, no romantic comedy. It’s utterly depression to go to bed knowing that a fictional character has a better love life than I do. And what makes you think I want to watch some girl realize she’s in love with a guy, while I’m obviously shipping her and her best friend from the first scene?”
Noor chuckles. She has learned that Frankie can be quite dramatic when she’s not getting her way.
“You don’t have to go to bed alone tonight. You’ll sleep with me. Come on — rom com?”
But a persistent Frankie is putting her foot down on this one. No more boy and girl smooching. She’s had enough of it today. There were too many love-crazy heterosexual walking across the land of DC today.
“I’ll tell you what,” Frankie suggests with that evil smirk that lets people know she has an infallible plan ready, “we’ll watch whatever movie you want if you give me twenty push ups.”
Noor’s jaw drops. They talked about her gym routine weeks ago, when they were still in Europe. Noor explained how she runs a lot. There’s countless squats and jumping rope until she nearly faints. But if there’s on thing she hates — one thing she’d rather suck at than doing it on a regular, it’s push ups. And she told Frankie, so now she’s using it against her. Why? Because she also promised Frankie she’d try and work on it. She didn’t.
Somewhere in her mind, Noor convinced herself that walking around carrying her iPhone and a microphone all day give her the strength to push herself off the ground twenty times as if she’d do it all the time. Apart from that, she hates to accept defeat. So she accepts the challenge and lies down on the ground in her comfortable sweatpants she pulled on after entering the hotel room earlier. All her muscles immediately cramp up the second she tries to lift herself up. Frankie sees it happening and refrains from laughing out loud. Inner joy will have to do for now.
“Well?” she curiously teases.
Noor looks up at her and clenches her teeth.
“Okay, here’s the thing … I can’t do twenty. But I can give you five,” she explains.
Frankie gets down on one knee next to her and expresses her cockiness. Of course Noor didn’t keep her promise of working on her push ups.
“Okay, then give me five.”
Her hands hang loosely over her upper leg, floating through the air. Noor crawls on her knees and slaps her flat hand against Frankie’s, like they just high-fived or something. The singer looks really pleased about her action.
“Very funny, Noor,” Frankie tells her while pinching one eye shut. “But we’re watching that action movie.”
They do watch that movie. And Frankie falls asleep in Noor’s bed, a little too close next to her.