Chapter 3: Francis

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It had been a long time since Francis Greene had seen Maddy Danton.

To say she had changed would have been an understatement. What had once been a face packed with makeup and a grin so fake it made his insides coil was now bare and honest.

And it was furious.

Of course, that was to no surprise.

"Hi," he said, feeling the need to break the silence which was slowly growing threatening.

"Leave," she said in lieu of any kind of greeting.

He put a hand in the door before she could shut it. "Wait, Maddy—"

"I was serious when I said I never wanted to see you again," she spat. He'd never heard so much loathing in someone's voice.

Once, he'd basked in people's hatred for him. After all, hate was one of the strongest emotions one could evoke from another. But now, it made him resent who he'd been.

"Maddy," he said again, "Just hear me out."

"There is not one thing you could say that is worth hearing," she said.

He paused, trying to think of something to win himself time. She was still tall, her tan skin smooth and warm. Her wide brown eyes were still as innocent as ever – despite just how devilish he knew she could be – and today they were rimmed with red.

She really was worse for wear.

His memory of Maddy Danton was sickening. He'd never really seen her until he was slowly learning that his feelings for Lola were much stronger than love. He realized he needed Maddy to play a part. He saw something in her that was sick and twisted.

She wasn't the first girl he'd slept with since asking Lola to be his girlfriend, but she was the most important – and also the last, for what it was worth.

Maddy Danton had always been reckless, always putting on a front of being dumb and ditzy. She loved inducing lust and playing the game of seduction, and she also loved meddling with things that were dangerous.

He was dangerous.

"Come on, Madeline," he said, using her full name. He didn't mean for it to sound taunting, but maybe it unconsciously did.

"No," she said. Her lips were hard, and her gaze so full of hatred it made his blood run a little cold.

"I need to talk to you," he said, this time through clenched teeth. Though his temper had improved over time, it could grow hard to manage, especially when people told him no.

"No," she repeated, and this time she closed the door.

Francis took a step back and then cursed, kicking his feet through the pebbles edging her pathway.

"Maddy!" he called, stepping back up onto the doormat to knock again, this time with a demanding force. "Please! Five minutes of your time, that's all I need!"

There was no response.

He sighed and shoved his hands deep in his pockets. It was hot, and his patience was wearing very thin. Had this been for himself – or anyone else – he would have given in, called it a day and left her the hell alone, to live only in his memories with the rest of them.

But it wasn't for himself, or anybody but her.

The love of his life, the one who knew him better than he knew himself.

What nobody understood about Lola Davenport was her intelligence. She was a smart girl, one that was too smart to let anybody pull the reigns. But, that was the appeal. She was a wild mare who was to be broken, and for so long Francis had been under the impression that that was all love was.

Until he lost her.

"Maddy!" he yelled again. "Please!"

He knew it was futile. He sighed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. He felt like punching a wall, and not just because of Maddy Danton. But because of the boy leaving Lola's bed that morning – because of the flush of pink coating her cheeks and the wry grin planted on her lips, and then there was the sheet, covering her creamy skin and scandalous curves.

She had almost definitely moved on.

And here he was, having not fucked a single person for almost a year.

His back had been leaning against the Danton's front door when it opened again, causing him to almost fall on through.

"You have five minutes, and then you are leaving before any member of my family returns home and strangles you."

He stared at her for a moment, his mouth slightly agape. Maddy Danton had never bossed him around before.

"I'm serious. Your time is ticking."

"I just wanted to say..." his words caught at the back of his throat. In practice, this had seemed so easy. Go back to all of those he'd fucked over and make things right, and then finally, when Lola saw he was a better person and that he had really changed, she'd give him another shot. He coughed, and the words left his lips quickly. "I'm sorry."

Maddy cocked a brow, and he could tell she was fighting back laughter. "You cannot be fucking serious."

"I'm serious," he said.

"Is this some joke? Another one of your twisted ways of manipulating me?" she asked. "Because I don't want any part of your shit, Francis, I want you out of my life."

"I'm not playing games," he said "I just want you to know I'm sorry. I'm not asking for anything."

She sighed, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning on the doorframe. She was wearing a baggy shirt over yoga pants – a contrast to the tight fitting outfits she used to always pull off. "Aright then. What are you so sorry for?"

That caught him off guard.

"Well, everything."

She narrowed her eyes at him.

"I used you. I knew you just wanted to be popular, and I knew you'd be easy to get into bed. So I did. I used you to control Lola."

For some reason, it looked like her heart was being broken. And that didn't make sense, because he knew one thing was certain, and that was that Madeline Danton hated his guts.

"Fine, apology accepted, whatever you want, Francis. Just don't ever come here again."

She was crying.

"Shit." He grimaced. Though she tried to hide it, sure enough, there was a cascade of tears sliding down her cheeks. "Why are you crying, Maddy?"

Again, she tried to shut the door, and he held it open.

It had been a fucking year. Why was she so upset over it all of a sudden? She'd seemed so unaffected, like they typical care-free Maddy the last time he'd seen her. She'd told him to fuck off, that she never wanted to see him again, and then flew over to the East Coast to Yale. It was hardly like she was living a tough life. God knows she probably slept with half the admissions office to actually secure a spot.

"Here I am, opening up to you, and you won't even tell me why you're crying."

"That's because I don't want to talk to you," she said firmly. "Leave."

"Can you stop being so damn difficult? No need to be a drama-queen about this, Danton. We're adults."

If looks could kill, he'd be undergoing instantaneous combustion right that second.

"You're the one forcing yourself into my house."

Well, she was right. By now he'd managed two steps into her rustic home.

"Fine. I'll go." He half hoped his words would cause her to ask him to stay, so she could get whatever was cutting her up so badly off of her chest.

But, instead, a wave of relief seemed to roll over her bony shoulders. "Good."

Not removing his eyes from hers, he stepped backward and out of the house. Without another word, she closed the door behind him with a definite slam.

He had expected his encounter with Maddy Danton to be brief. In his mind, it had gone quite straight forward. He'd arrive, she'd joke around with him about climbing into her bed again, and then he'd tell her he couldn't because he was in love with Lola. Then, they'd laugh over their scandalous past and he'd apologize for using her, so when he moved on with Lola it wouldn't haunt them.

But, instead, it had gone... strange.

Maybe Maddy had grown sensitive in this last year. Maybe the East Coast had softened who he'd once known. But even that explanation didn't quite make sense, not with the way she'd reacted.

He sighed. It didn't really matter. She'd said that she essentially forgave him, even if it had been spoken through tears. That was all he really needed.

He climbed back into his Ferrari and let the engine roar to life. The next person on his list would have been Monica Pennington. Maybe it would be.

Francis had known where she'd been buried, though he never made it to her funeral. Deep down he knew she wouldn't want him there, even though the whole school was invited to the service. On a whim, he pulled onto the main street to find a florist. That's what people did right? Bought flowers when they visited people's graves?

The red roses stood out most. The color reminded him of her hair, and it made him feel pretty fucking terrible. Like Maddy, and like at least a dozen other girls, he'd used her and played with her until she carried no more interest. Only, she never really lost his.

He wasn't even sure if roses were appropriate to give to a dead person. The only other time he'd bought them was when he was trying to convince Lola to date him, all those years ago.

When he pulled up in the parking lot of the cemetery, he was starting to feel pretty damn shit. He'd just been completely rejected by a girl who'd once yearned for him, and now he was visiting another girl he'd fucked over in her grave. At least this one wouldn't yell at him to leave.

After trudging around the place for five minutes and realizing that locating a single grave in a sea of hundreds wouldn't quite work, he headed to the cemetery office to be pointed in the right direction. He'd barely been able to choke out her name, and by the time they'd looked her up on their database and given him rough directions they were closing up for the day.

Francis took a deep breath and pushed forward, walking towards where they'd pointed. He was starting to feel scared, and he hated it. It wasn't like she could haunt him any more than she already had.

It was with one striking moment that Francis had realized Lola truly loved him back. It was after Monica had died, and Lola had fallen silent.

He remembered it clearly. At first, he was sure it was shock. She'd come around. But after days had passed and she still hadn't spoken, everyone was starting to grow worried.

Every day he had seen her, and every day he'd lay with her in bed, stroking her hair and whispering sweet nothings into her ear until she would fall asleep. It was more than just Lola that had fallen silent, it was their world, and in that time she was all he had.

He'd lost count of how many weeks had passed before she spoke again, but he remembered it was him that had induced it. He'd told her he loved her, for the first time in years, and then kissed her with all of the passion his empty heart could give. That's when he knew she loved him. And that's also when he began to grow worried that she'd outgrow him.

Maybe he was young and paranoid, or maybe it was a part of who he was. It was just how things went, and now he was here, trying to make up for everything he'd done before everyone left again, back to their new lives, and he'd return to the desk at his father's office building, performing menial tasks and looking pretty for the cameras.

He sighed, finally finding her name engraved in white marble stone. Monica Pennington, forever in our hearts.

Kneeling down so he could place the flowers beneath her magnificent tombstone, he breathed a silent apology.

He'd do everything right this time. Everything right to win her back.


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