“And I don’t regret a single moment of it.”
She doesn’t say anything, just sits there swinging her legs back and forth, avoiding all eye contact with me.
“Do you?”
“Do I what, Jonas?”
She’s really going to make me say it…
“Do you regret it?”
She sighs. “I’ve tried to.” Finally, she glances up at me. “I’ve tried to so many times over the years.”
“And?” I press.
“No, Jonas, I don’t regret it.”
“Good.”
“Good?”
“Yeah.” I grin at her. “It means I still have a chance.”
Laughing, she hops down from the counter, sauntering past me, wiggling her hips in a way she knows drives me crazy.
When she reaches the doorway, she looks back at me over her shoulder with a sassy smirk.
“Wanna go make out on my couch?”
Who am I to turn her down?
* * *
I can’t stay away.
I’ve tried.
Well, not very hard, admittedly, but I’ve thought hard about trying, and it’s ultimately the thought that counts, right?
In between my short shifts at Slice and upping my physical therapy routine, I’ve shown up at Frankie’s every day for the last two weeks. Sometimes it’s late at night, sometimes early in the morning. Sometimes I stop by for a meal and a movie, and sometimes just for a kiss. Sometimes it’s just to drop off our notebook.
I’ve kept her on her toes, and she’s loving every second of it.
I’m about to throw her yet another curveball because I have to see her tonight.
I hit the green button on the phone, bringing it to my ear on an unsteady breath, suddenly nervous about making a simple phone call.
“H-Hello?”
“Frank!” My voice is too high. I’m too eager. I clear my throat. “I mean, Frank!”
Shit. Nope. That sounded exactly the same.
“Jonas?”
“Do you have many other people in your life calling you Frank? If so, I’ll need names and numbers. They have some explaining to do.”
“How did you get this number?”
“Julian is very accommodating.”
“You do you realize you just made it sound like you exchanged sexual favors for my work number, right?”
“Shit. No.”
She laughs. “What do you want, Jonas?”
“I want you to go to the fair with me tonight. You’re not allowed to say no. Just say you’d love to go and I should pick you up at eight.”
“So, basically, you’re not asking me, you’re telling me I’m going to the fair with you and you’re picking me up at eight?”
“Yes.”
“Well, then, okay. I’ll see you at eight.”
“Wait, seriously?” I’m surprised that worked.
“Yes.” She giggles. “I mean, I’m not allowed to say no, right?”
“Right.”
“Then eight it is.”
“Damn, that was easy.”
“Like Sunday morning.”
“Hey, Frank?”
“Yeah, Jonas?”
“You’re giving me twenty dollars. You’re not allowed to say no.”
“No.”
“But I just said you can’t say no.”
“It doesn’t work like that.”
“But it just did.”
“The fair thing worked because I’d actually love to go to the fair with you, but I don’t want to give you twenty dollars.”
“Oh, how convenient.”
“Yeah—for me. See you at eight, Jonas.”
Slice Eight
Frankie
“I’m fine, Mom, I promise. Quit fretting over me.”
My mother titters on the other end of the phone. “I’m not fretting. I’m simply concerned.”
“Because I have plans tonight?”
“Well…yes.” At least she doesn’t lie about it. “You never have plans.”
“I do now.”
She sighs, and I know exactly what’s going to leave her mouth next. “Your father and I sure will miss you at dinner, Frankie.”
Yep. Knew that was coming.
I’m never included in deciding when these weekly dinners will happen. I’m just supposed to keep my schedule clear and be ready when they call.
I knew dinner with them was a possibility for tonight when Jonas asked me to go to the fair with him, but I said yes anyway.
Truth is, I need a break from my parents. It’s not that I don’t love them, because despite everything we’ve gone through over the last several years and the distance that’s formed between us, I still love them fiercely. It’s just that they can be…overbearing. Pushy. And I have a tough time saying no to them, which never seems to end well for me.
“I’ll make it up to you later this week.”
“Make sure you do. I have to run now, gotta break the news to your father.”
More guilt.
“I love you, Francis.”
“Love you too.”
I toss my phone onto the bed and meander over to my closet to continue my search for the perfect outfit.
What does one wear on a first date that hasn’t actually been designated a date?
A thought hits me, and before I can overthink it, I pick my phone back up and tap Julian’s name.
I already know he’s going to just love getting this phone call.
“Hello?”
“I need help.”
“With?”
“I need an outfit.”
He sighs. “We’ve been over this—I am not your gay best friend who’s going to give you makeovers and braid your hair and do other bullshit girly crap.”
I laugh. “Except you already did give me a makeover.”
“I encouraged you to do your hair and get contacts. Big whoop.”
“And forced me to go to that beauty counter in the mall, and then bought me makeup.”
“Okay, fine. Then we’ll say I gave you a makeover. Whatever.” I can practically hear him roll his eyes. “Where are you going?”
“Out.”
“With?” I can picture him sitting forward, excited and eager to hear my answer because he already knows what it will be.
Julian’s been walking on air since he—according to him—reunited Jonas and me.
I groan. “Stop it.”
“Nah, I’m good. I want you to say it.”
“Jonas,” I grind out begrudgingly. “Are you happy now?”
“Delighted.” He laughs like the jerk he is. “Now, where are you two lovebirds off to?”
“I’m not telling you. You’ll show up.”
“You really think I’m going to show up and cockblock you? After you’ve pined after him for years? What kind of best friend do you think I am?”
“The best of the best, Igor. And also, an asshole.”
“Fair enough.” He chuckles. “But I kind of need to know where you’re going so I can dress you properly.”
“Oh.” I didn’t think of that. “Fine. We’re going to the county fair.”
“Well this is easy: put on your shortest pair of shorts and a tight tee. Boom. Done.”
“Are you serious?” I growl. “That’s all you’re going to say?”
“Yes, because believe it or not, dressing yourself isn’t rocket science.”
“Help me. Be more specific.” I feel the sting of tears hit my eyes and I blink them back as fast as I can. “I don’t want to screw this up, Julian.”
I can hear him swallow. “Shit. Don’t cry, Frankenstein. I hate when you do that. I’m sorry. I’m taking this seriously, I promise.”
“I am too, which is why it’s so damn scary.”
“You really like him, huh?”
“So much. I know I shouldn’t because of what happened before, but I can’t help it.”
“Can I be honest with you?” He doesn’t wait for me to answer
. “Who gives a flying fuck about the past? You were kids. You did something dumb. It didn’t pan out the way you wanted it to. Get over it. You’re not the same person you were four years ago, and neither is he. Quit living in the past and start living in the now. You deserve it.”
I don’t even try to hide my tears.
He’s right. About all of it. We aren’t who we were before. Our lives have changed so much, and so have we. I can give him another chance and not beat myself up about it.
Maybe he’ll surprise me this time around.
He has already, with the cake, the notebook, and all the times he’s shown up over the last two weeks.
I just need to let go and enjoy whatever it is we’re doing.
“I do, so help me pick out what to wear.”
“Your dark wash shorts with the frayed hems. They make your ass look amazing. Pair it with your army green shirt with the lace on the top. It shows just enough cleavage without making you feel exposed, and it’ll give Jonas something to look forward to later. And before you ask, yes, wear your gray boat shoes. They’ll look just fine. I promise.”
“Thank you.” I blow out a breath. “You’re my hero.”
“I know, but just remember, you owe me.”
“I promise to bring extra donuts on Monday.”
“You’re gonna make me wait until Monday for donuts?” he cries. “After everything I’ve done for you?”
“Fine. I’ll let you buy me post-coitus breakfast tomorrow and rehash all the dirty details of tonight.”
“Wait…seriously?”
“No!”
“Boo, you non-whore!”
“Love you, Igor.”
“Love you too, Frankenstein.”
* * *
Julian was right.
These shorts do make my ass look amazing.
“One fried Oreo for the lady.”
I wrinkle my nose at the treat Jonas insisted we try. “Do I have to?”
“Where’s your sense of adventure, Frank?”
I pat my pockets. “Shit. Must have left it at home.”
“You left your adventure and your wallet at home? How convenient.”
I wish I could crawl into a hole.
In my rush to get out the door and get this date going before I lost all my nerve, I completely forgot to grab my wallet.
“It wasn’t on purpose, I swear!”
“That’s what anyone would say.”
“I’ll make it up to you.”
“Did you just offer sexual favors in exchange for a delicious fried cookie?”
I lift my brows. “First, I said nothing about sexual favors. Wishful thinking, much? Second, I did not agree to try that monstrosity of a creation.”
“You’re gonna turn me down now? After I spent my hard-earned money on it?
“I am ninety-five percent certain you bought that with your tip money, and considering how much pizza I’ve ordered in the last few weeks, there’s a good chance those were my dollars.”
He tries to hold back his smile at my logic but fails, and I love the way it lights up his face.
I think a smiling Jonas is my favorite thing in the world.
He holds the concoction up in front of my face. “Please?”
“Fine, but if I hate it, you owe me a funnel cake.”
“Are you kidding me? That line is insane!”
“And the line for the fried Oreos wasn’t. That should tell you something.”
“Yeah, that everyone else in town has shitty taste.”
I shake my head and snatch the fat-laden chunk from his hand, stuffing it in my mouth in one bite.
“Frank!” he shouts just as my mistake dawns on me.
It’s hot.
Very hot.
My mouth is on fire and I’m doing everything I can to put it out, chewing unattractively with my mouth wide open while fanning the molten dessert.
Jonas doesn’t once look at me in disgust, and not even concern.
No.
He’s laughing his ass off at my mishap.
I swat at him and he doesn’t care, cradling his stomach in laughter.
When I finally manage to swallow the last of the dangerous, albeit delicious, treat, I glare at him.
“You are evil!”
“How is this my fault? You’re the crazy one who just grabbed and ate like she hasn’t ever had a meal before.”
“You could have warned me!”
“I was about to, but you just snatched it away.”
“My mouth hurts. My—”
Before I can say anything else, he crashes his lips to mine and steals the breath right from my lungs.
His hands cradle my face, his thumb caressing my jaw.
It’s a quick kiss, but it’s packed with so much attention. So much emotion.
I loathe the moment he pulls away.
He grins at me. “Do your lips feel better now?”
“I said my mouth was on fire, not my lips.”
“Well, in that case…”
He goes in for another kiss.
“Damn, Schwartz. Nice job.” Timmy Drake, my least favorite guy from high school, whistles as he walks by. “Can’t believe you bagged the virgin.”
Jonas stiffens, and I see in his eyes the moment he decides he’s going after Drake.
He takes one step toward the jerk, and I latch onto him, digging my heels in.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“To beat his ass,” Jonas growls. “He really fucking needs it.”
“Jonas…” He leans forward, and I push back. “Jonas!”
He comes to a halt, staring down at me with hard eyes.
“What?” he grinds out, and I’ve never heard such malice in his voice before. It almost scares me.
“What exactly do you think you’re doing?”
“Well I thought it was pretty obvious I’m going to go kick that guy’s ass, but apparently not.” He looks down at me, eyes still full of ire. “Hey, Frank, I’m gonna go beat that guy’s ass.”
“You can’t be serious right now.”
“Oh, I’m dead serious. I’m so serious that guy is about to be dead.”
“That barely makes any sense,” I argue.
“I’m not trying to make sense—I’m trying to defend your honor.”
“I don’t need you to defend me, Jonas.”
“Tell me why I’m supposed to just let him walk away after that bullshit.”
“Because of your football career that’s already precariously sitting on the edge of a cliff. A fight with some stupid guy who said some stupid thing that doesn’t matter anyway isn’t what you need right now.” I shove on his chest again. “He’s not worth it.”
“But you’re worth it, Frank. You matter.”
“If I’m worth losing everything, why did you walk away last time?”
Jonas stops pushing and I stumble forward a bit.
I stare up at him, tears threatening to fall. “Why’d you leave me for the game back then? Why did you leave me, Jonas?”
I don’t know where the words come from, but they’re hanging between us now and I can’t take them back.
He stares down at me with hurt in his eyes, like I just sucker-punched him, and I guess I did with my words.
Then his eyes flit to just about my left shoulder, and there’s a sneer on his face I haven’t seen before.
“Well, isn’t this just perfect timing,” Jonas spits.
I glance back to see who he’s looking at, surprised to see my mother and father standing there.
They look so out of place at the county fair, my father in pressed dress pants and a button-up shirt, my mother wearing a pencil skirt and a dressy blouse.
“W-What are you guys doing here? I thought you were having dinner tonight.”
“Well, dear,” my mother starts, lips pursed in displeasure. “When we canceled, your father decided we deserved a night out for a change and took me to eat at the steakhouse across the street. We we
ren’t quite ready to head home yet and wandered over here for some funnel cake.” She glances to Jonas dismissively. “Is this the reason you couldn’t make dinner with your ailing father?”
My gut fills with guilt.
“I, uh, I had a date.”
“A date?” Jonas asks.
“Is this not a date?” I ask him.
“It is. I just didn’t know if you thought it was a date. We didn’t make it official or anything, but it’s a date to me.”
I grin. “It’s a date to me too.” I turn back to my parents. “Mother, Father, this is Jonas.”
“We are well aware of who he is,” my mother says in a tone I’ve never heard from her before.
It’s clear she does not like my choice in date, and I must admit I’m shocked.
While Jonas was the quarterback of our football team, he didn’t walk around like he was king, thinking he could get away with anything he wanted. He was respectful and kept up with his schoolwork. To my knowledge, he was never in the principal’s office, so why my mother doesn’t like him—especially since he brought nothing but glory to our old high school—I’m not sure.
“I thought I told you to stay away from my daughter.”
My smile slips at the disdain I hear in my father’s voice.
What the…
“How do you two know Jonas? What am I missing here?”
“I told you,” Jonas says quietly. “Ask your father.”
Ask your father.
His words from the night we drank ourselves dumb run through my mind.
I didn’t believe him then, but I’m starting to now.
The two men shoot fire at one another with their eyes, and there is something between them I’ve been missing for years.
“What am I missing?” I ask again, this time directing my question solely at my father.
“Don’t play dumb, Francis. You know how we know this…this…boy.” My mother’s voice drips with contempt.
“Give it up, Frank—they know.”
“They know? They know what? I’m lost. I—”
Jonas raises his brows, and everything clicks into place.
They know about us, about that weekend.
“Oh,” I whisper, and Jonas nods.
“Oh,” he says.
What I don’t understand is how that’s even possible. I was careful. There was no trace of him left. I cleaned up. It was like nobody was ever there.
Team Player 2: A Sports Anthology Page 56
