This was a bad idea.
Fran was standing in front of a police station, deciding whether she should go in or not. Nervously fidgeting with the flow of her indecisive thoughts.
Walking to and from the doors.
The idea had been an impulse.
To look for help at the station.
Finally deciding against it she walked away from it and towards the park. It was better than going back to her dorm room, at least at the moment.
The teen ran a hand through her mess of copper curls that brushed her shoulders in frustration only to sigh deeply as she cut past the street and onto the grass of the park.
She was feeling too antsy.
However, she had been too preoccupied with her inner thoughts to realise what had happened before she was on the grass, staring at a ball.
A tiny, red ball.
And then she squinted up towards a dog racing towards her, hardly seeing anything but the blinding light untill the girl's warm brown eyes adjusted to the sun.
Probably his ball.
She managed to raise her head higher to notice the guy racing after the dog.
Unfortunately, the dog had won.
Blake.
Francis was unsure on how to proceed on how to act towards her friend when her mind hit a blank at the sight of his broad shoulders and athletic build. Her brain had had a short circuit, it seemed.
All she could simply let out was "Cute!"
"Patchy or me?"
Blake's question went unanswered. There was a short silence between them despite the barking and squeals of children.
She was still on the floor. He moved to help her up after he realised this as well.
"Could I spot you for another ice-cream?"
Francis dusted the grass off of her washed out jeans.
"You really like ice-cream, don't you?"
"Who doesn't like ice-cream?"
"You've got a good point there." At this point of time blood must've decided that now was the time to flow back into her head as she slightly relaxed.
"Well, we could just get a burger?"
"How's eight?"
Francis smiled and happily agreed.
____________________________________
It was eight. She didn't like waiting for people, but he felt worth it.
The copper haired girl now donned her favourite form fitting jeans and her mom's old Guns and Roses t-shirt. Decidingly trying not to fidget as she waited for her friend, she had ended up staring at her boots.
They were worn out, but they were quite comfy.
After seeing Blake, she went to pick up her sister and ended up helping her with homework. She managed to convince John that since it was a Friday, it would not interfere with her studies if she slept over. She had now also gotten familiar with the new house as she did so.
The man had been so frustrated about losing to her he had left for the study near Sam's room.
When the door rang she immediately went to awnser.
Not that it had taken long, having only been a stride from it. She smiled brightly once it was mostly open only for it to slide off her face like melted cheese and be replaced with a frown.
The fake blonde ignored the obvious dislike the younger shoed openly towards her and kept a stoic face.
Agnus.
She had just wasted one of her best smiles on Agnus.
Her mood plummeted off a cliff, sank into the deepest parts of the ocean and got chewed on and spat out by some terrifying, unone fish.
"I need to hand in some paperwork over to Mr. Brown. May I come in?"
She had almost flinched at her nasally voice. It may not have suited the woman's looks but it had suited her personality perfectly. She almost smiled. Almost.
Slowly she opened the door to the secretary with a stiff nod. "Don't worry; I know where the study is."
Blake was standing behind her watching the scene unfold.
He drove an old BMW V6. The car ride had mostly been silent. He stopped by one of the only burger places in town and we both ordered chocolate milkshakes along with the hamburger special.
When the dark haired guy started dipping his fries in his milkshake, at the exact same time she was ready yo dip hers,she paused.
And then frowned.
"What are you doing?"
"I like dipping my chips in my milkshake. It tastes like waffles." Blake shrugged and popped another dipped chip into his mouth.
Francis gasped in mock-outrage, "That's my thing!"
"Why's it your thing?"
"When my mom was pregnant with me, she used to dip chips into chocolate milkshake on a daily basis before she stated eating some kind of pickle monstrosity instead. I only found out about it after I started doing it," she explained.
After this, they spent most of their time finishing their meals.
"I saw you loitering in front of the police station today. Were you waiting for your boyfriend's bail?"
Francis could feel herself fighting off a grin before she could even awnser. "Yeah. He robbed the local seven eleven, managed to get away with two beers, got pulled over for drunk driving but got sent to jail for being my imaginary friend."
They both tried to appear to be serious before bursting out laughing.
"Okay, so no boyfriend then. But really, what were you doing at the police station?"
"You'd think I was crazy if I told you."
Blake once again grinned at her, this time in a daring manner, "Try me."
"I believe my step-father had something to do with my mother's death."
After that, all her thoughts had spilled out.
How John had lawfully gotten her dad's firm.
About what the officers had told then and the phone call before that.
How she couldn't prove anything yet but how she wanted to.
The statement hung in the air as they finished their food. She wanted to look at anywhere but him, but somehow she still couldn't find a way to do so.
He looked so serious and deep in thought.
And she couldn't blame him. If anyone had told her what she'd just told him, she would have gotten up and walked away. Blocked their number and acted like they never met. Or that's exactly what she would've done a few months before, she was once again for the hundredth time unsure on what she'd do.
"I know someone. A homicide detective. He's a family friend. I could ask him to look into it for you, if you want."
"Really? You'd do that?"
"I could also tell you what he finds out, if he agrees, on our next date."
"Thank you, Blake."