IT’S TRUE — THOUGH OVER THE years harvey has been forced to play the role of the perfect, darling child, he has grown less and less patient with the media, with his agent, with his parents: it doesn’t take much to get harvey talking smack about the pitfalls of the industry. not only that, but frankie feels REAL in a way he can’t explain. she didn’t try and suck up to him when he argued with her, she didn’t try to appease him because of who he was ( or rather, of course, who his parents were ) — she challenged him. she pushed back: it was what made harvey keep coming back, no matter how loudly his conscious told him he SHOULDN’T. “ oh i wasn’t — flirting. at first, ” he teases, shaking the bottle in her direction. “ frankie, frankie — if you hadn’t noticed, those things aren’t mutually exclusive. in fact, they can never be, they’re fundamentally LINKED, ” he almost lectures, but his drunken state makes his words come out more playfully than they would. “ some people LIVE for the spotlight, ” he says with a shrug. “ and not everyone takes the time to actually listen to what i say, ” he notes, with a bit of a solemn chime: while he appreciates frankie and how she actually hears him, it’s clear they still butt heads on issues — but perhaps not on the physical endeavors. “ i was hoping you’d say that. ” a matching smirk tugs at his lips, snaking an arm around her waist as he pulls her closer, the smell of alcohol on her breath loud and clear. this would’ve been the time he might have smiled and cheekily pressed his lips to hers, but he can’t. the attraction is there, certainly, and she might be EAGER to come home with him, but even behind closed doors, harvey doesn’t want to be the bad boy the media has painted him out to be. especially not to frankie, who needs water and a soft pillow more than anything else right now. the elevator opens to an empty hall ( thank god ) and he leads her, hand in hand, to his door, and into his apartment, and into his bedroom, where he sits her down on his bed. “ wait here, i’ll be right back, ” he promises — first order of business is to trash the champagne bottle, and get her some water.
❝ DON’T LIE, you were in from the beginning. i know you couldn’t resist my charms, ❞ she jokes, sticking her tongue out at the boy. her heart soars at how quickly they fall back into their usual banter, the way he can verbally match her toe-to-toe and not back down. she likes it. maybe too much. it’s much too dangerous, she thinks, the way her walls come down around him, but when he’s in such close proximity she can’t really bring herself to care. ❝ i feel like it can happen, ❞ she finally responds, aware she’s taken just a bit too long to answer him. ❝ i mean, i was acting before this and i was definitely not famous before this, at least not to this level, unless you were really into a24 films. ❞ she nearly laughs at her own words, but is quickly sobered by his reply. ❝ i’m not everyone, ❞ she responds, uncharacteristically serious. ❝ you know that, right harv ? ❞ she wants to say more: i hear you. i get it. just because we don’t always agree doesn’t mean i’m not listening. but then he smiles at her, hand around her waist and it’s like a magnetic pull, the way she just follows him down the hall and sits on the bed. suddenly, she’s shivering: partly from the chill of the air conditioning, partly from the loss of contact, and partly from the realization she had upon sitting down that she was maybe a little too drunk from the night’s events to be doing what she was doing. she searches the room from her spot until her eyes land on an old sweatshirt, tossed in the corner of the room. ❝ i’m borrowing your sweatshirt ! ❞ she calls to the boy as she slips it over her head. it’s almost comically too big on her, the sleeves flopping over her hands, but it feels comfortable and warm — a little like the way she feels with him, if she’s being honest with herself. with that, she tucks her legs under her and leans up against the pillows on the bed and begins rolling up the sleeves as she waits for him to return.
