“H-How?” I cross my arms over my chest, shielding myself against their obvious disappointment. “How d-did you know?”
“Our notebook,” Jonas tells me.
“I didn’t read the entire thing,” my father speaks up. “But enough to surmise that you were madly in love with this boy.”
“Enough to see what he was doing to you,” my mother interjects.
“Doing to me? He wasn’t doing anything to me.”
“He was leading you on just like my high school boyfriend did me, trying to change you. We had to protect you.”
“Leading me on… Change me…” I laugh, but there’s no humor in my voice. “Heaven forbid I step one toe out of line, that I’m not mommy’s perfect princess or daddy’s little angel. I am not a robot. I’m not a puppet you can manipulate, not yours to mold into whatever it is you want me to be. I am a person with my own aspirations, my own goals, my own life.” I stomp my foot. “I make my own choices. I decide what school I go to. I decide what my career is. I decide who I give my virginity to and when. I decide who I fall in love with. It is my life, dammit!”
Slamming my eyes closed, I heave in a full breath for the first time in what feels like years, finally telling my parents exactly what I feel.
When I release it, I’ve never felt more relieved.
“Uh, Frank?” Jonas says tentatively.
“What?”
“I…I don’t think they knew about the virginity part.”
My stomach falls as I peel my eyes open.
My father’s eyes are blazing. My mother is holding her hand to her chest, mouth dropped open.
They wanted me to wait until my wedding night, and not for religious reasons as many might assume with my father being a pastor.
No, my mother always told me how she regretted having sex with a man she wasn’t going to marry. It was drilled into my head for years and years.
I gulp. “Oh, well, surprise…I’m not a virgin anymore.”
They’re hurt. They’re angry.
But I’m hurt and angry too.
We stand there, squared off. It’s me and Jonas against them.
He leans down, lips ghosting over my ear. “So, now the whole town definitely knows we banged.”
I glance around for the first time, noticing we’ve managed to attract a rather large group of fairgoers.
Laughter bubbles out of me and keeps coming and coming until it eventually turns into sobs.
I look hysterical right now.
Jonas wraps his arms around me, protecting me and holding me together all at once.
“Get me out of here.”
He nods, ushering me toward the exit, not stopping when my parents call after me.
He helps me into his car, dragging the seatbelt over my limp form and buckling me in safe. He presses a quick kiss to my forehead before shutting me inside and rounding the front of the vehicle.
Firing up the engine, he glances my way. “Where to?”
“Can we go to your place?”
“My parents are there. Probably still awake too.”
“I don’t care. I just can’t go to my apartment right now. It’s the first place my parents will look.”
He nods, understanding. “You got it, Frank.”
We pull out of the fairgrounds, speeding toward anywhere that doesn’t feel like heartbreak.
Slice Nine
Jonas
I cringe when I see the light from the TV flashing inside my childhood home as we pull up the driveway.
“What’s wrong?” Frankie asks when she notices me not moving to exit the car.
“My parents are still up.”
“So?”
“Well, you’ve never met them, so you don’t really know what that means.”
“Jonas, I just told half the town I’m not a virgin anymore. I think I can handle your parents just fine.”
“Fine,” I say, unbuckling. “But you can’t say I didn’t warn you.”
We climb out of the car and I grab Frankie’s hand as we head up the short walkway to the front door.
“You doing okay?”
We didn’t talk the entire ride here. I was too afraid to bring up the debacle that just took place.
Not because I’m scared of Frankie, but because I’m scared for her.
It’s clear she’s in turmoil over what happened tonight.
“I’m not ready to talk about it,” she says.
I respect her decision, pushing open the front door.
Aside from the noises coming from the TV, the house is otherwise quiet. I guess they just forgot to shut it off before bed.
I hold my finger up to my lips, mouthing, “Sleeping.” Frankie nods, and we silently make our way down the hall.
As we approach the living room, the sounds from the TV grow more audible, and I’m concerned about what my parents were watching because it’s clearly sex noises.
I glance at Frankie, lifting my brows in a silent Are you hearing this too?
She lifts her shoulders and we press on.
I wish we hadn’t.
Because on the couch are my parents.
Lips locked. Tops off. My dad’s hand clearly up my mother’s skirt.
“MY EYES!” I scream, covering my face so I can’t scar myself with any other images.
“Oh shit! Letica!”
“Harvey! Grab my dress!”
There’s a lot of shuffling and cussing and a whole hell of a lot of humiliation burning through me right now.
Then there’s Frankie, who is standing beside me laughing so hard she’s not making a sound, but I can feel her shaking.
“Knock it off,” I mutter, peeking at her through my hands.
She wipes at her eyes. “Well, I just told half the town you deflowered me. I guess we’re square on embarrassing events to last a lifetime.”
“Deflowered? Jonas Schwartz!” my mother chides. “You deflowered our pastor’s daughter?”
I glare at her. “You were boning my father in the living room?”
“Actually, there was no boning. You cockblocked me,” my dad helpfully explains.
I groan. “Oh my god.”
“Tell me about it.” My dad stands, extending a hand to Frankie. “Hi. I don’t think we’ve ever been formally introduced. This is my wife Letica. I’m Harvey.”
I smack his hand away. “Get that out of here. I don’t know where that thing has been.”
“Good heavens, Jonas. It’s not big a deal. We’ve clearly had sex before.”
“Twice. In my mind, you’ve ever only had sex twice.”
My mother rolls her eyes, and my father tries not to laugh.
“Come on,” I say, ignoring them and grabbing Frankie’s hand. “We’re going upstairs.”
She laughs, giving my parents a wave as I tug her toward the staircase.
“It was great meeting you, Frankie,” my father says.
“Keep the door open!” my mother hollers when we reach the top of the steps.
I roll my eyes, pushing into my bedroom and pulling Frankie inside before slamming said door closed.
I swear I hear my mother cackle.
“Look, I know I just met them, but I’m in love,” Frankie says.
“They’re the worst.”
“Worse than your parents threatening your kind-of boyfriend away from you, making you think you did something wrong and provoking you into running and hiding for four years of your life, always pondering the what-ifs?”
I grimace.
“That’s what I thought. I win.”
Frankie steps around me, taking in my childhood bedroom in all its original glory.
We didn’t have a lot of extra money when I was a kid, so I was surprised when I asked to repaint my room for my eighth birthday and my mother said yes. She bought the best can of paint we could afford, and we spent an afternoon together coating the walls.
Only we didn’t have enough to do two coats…or the money to buy another can.
It’s an ugly room, but it’s mine, and the memories attached to the remodel are some of my favorites.
I wouldn’t trade it for the world.
Frankie doesn’t say a word about the paint, her eyes wandering around, skimming over every small detail.
In the far corner sits my lone bookshelf that’s full of everything but books.
Unless you count notebooks.
Our notebooks.
Frankie’s eyes light up when she sees them, and she practically runs over, plucking one from the shelf.
She flicks through the pages, glancing over what we wrote, the things we shared with each other, the small details of our lives that were so important back then.
There are tears in her eyes when she finally looks up at me, and I cross the room, not letting a single one trek down her cheeks.
“Don’t cry.”
“I can’t believe you kept them.”
“Of course I kept them.”
“Why?”
“You think I’d throw them away?”
“I-I wasn’t sure. I felt like you threw me away, so I figured…” She trails off, her tears overwhelming her.
I pull her into me.
“I didn’t throw you away, Frank. I was forced away from you. Well, I thought I was at the time. Your father used to play football at State. He had connections that could keep me off the team—at least I believed he did.” I squeeze her tighter. “I was wrong. I was young and stupid, and I let the fear of losing football control me when it should have been the fear of losing you that guided my decisions.”
“A part of me is glad you left,” she admits quietly.
I pull back. “What? Why would you say that?”
“If you hadn’t left, I’d have followed you. I would have gone to school for something that doesn’t give me the same joy football gives you. I wouldn’t have been happy in the long run.”
“I wouldn’t have let you follow me.”
“Maybe not now, but then you would have.”
I want to argue with her, but I have a feeling she’s right.
“Besides, back then I was kind of enraptured by you. I wouldn’t have noticed you’d let me follow you until it was too late and I’d already fallen out of love.”
My pulse quickens.
It’s the second time she’s dropped the L word tonight, and I want to say something about it so badly.
I want to tell her I was in love with her too.
That I never stopped being in love with her.
But I think we’ve had enough serious conversations for one day.
“Jonas?”
Frankie grabs my chin, stroking along my jawline and pulling my face toward hers.
“Hmm?”
Her lips ghost over mine. “Make me forget tonight.”
She doesn’t have to tell me twice.
I lay her on my bed and give her some new memories.
* * *
A buzzing drags me from the best night of sleep I’ve had in years, and I detest the thought of having to detach myself from Frankie’s sleeping form.
But the moment I flip my phone over and glance at the screen, seeing my agent’s name on it, I know I have to take the call.
He’s been riding my ass for days now.
Which seems fair on his end, considering I was cleared for training camp last week but have been pushing off actually starting.
I was supposed to be in Colorado last night.
I never showed.
Instead, I made Frankie forget.
First with my tongue, then my fingers…then my tongue again. Finally, I buried myself inside her for what felt like hours.
Glancing over at the sleeping beauty, I carefully extract myself from her hold, using all the energy I can muster after last night, and snatch my phone from the bedside table.
“Let’s get this over with,” I mumble.
Frankie stirs but doesn’t wake.
I hustle away, not wanting to disturb her, and slip out into the hallway, pressing dial on my agent’s name.
“It’s about motherfucking time, Schwartz,” my agent growls into the phone. “Where the hell are you? I’m two fucking seconds from hopping on a plane and hunting your ass down.”
“Would you relax, AJ? I’m still with my parents.”
“That’s the fucking issue! You’re supposed to be in Colorado. I’ve had coaches blowing up my phone all goddamn morning and my wife is getting really tired of me taking calls when we’re supposed to be on vacation.”
“Please give Allie my apologies.”
“Fuck your apologies, kid. I need your ass on a plane. Now.”
“I’m not ready yet, man.”
“The contracts I have riding on your ass say you’re ready. You’ve been dodging this for a week now. Step up to your duties or you’re going to blow any chance you have at the NFL.”
I sigh because I know he’s right. I can’t keep putting this off.
It’s not that I don’t want to go. I want the NFL more than anything.
But I also want Frankie.
I’m scared if I leave now, we’ll never have another chance. I’ve lost her once and barely survived. I don’t want to do it again.
“Kid?”
“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter. “I’ll be on a plane first thing tomorrow.”
“I swear, if you dodge me again…”
“Fuck. I won’t, AJ. I promise. I’ll be in Colorado by noon.”
“Make it before six AM?”
“Six AM? Shit.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Okay, fine. I’ll make it happen.”
“I’m trusting you. Don’t make me regret it.”
The line goes dead, and so do all my hopes of spending more time with Frankie.
“Shit, shit, shit.” I knock my head against the wall a few times, trying to rack my brain for a way to get out of this.
I don’t have a solution.
The only thing I can do is be honest with Frankie about football and hope she’ll understand why I have to leave again.
Carefully, I push open my bedroom door, only I don’t have to be quiet.
Frankie’s awake.
And from the look in her eye, she heard everything.
“You’re leaving?”
I nod, and the hurt shines through just a little more.
“When were you going to tell me, Jonas?”
“I…” I run a hand through my hair. “I don’t know.”
She pushes up from the bed, the blanket pooling around her feet as she stands there in nothing but my old high school t-shirt and her underwear.
“When, Jonas? On the flight out of here? When you got there? You were going to tell me, right?”
The sting. The fury. The accusation that’d I’d leave and not tell her…again.
It’s all there.
And it all really fucking sucks.
“Frank, I—”
“No. No. Don’t Frank me. You’re leaving me again. You weren’t going to tell me…again.” She shakes her head, throwing her hands in the air. “I…I can’t do this anymore. I just can’t.
I rush toward her, but she puts her arms out, warding me off. She grabs her shorts off the floor and yanks them on.
“Save it. I don’t want to hear it. I can’t hear it right now, not after last night—after I stood there and told my parents you were different, that you weren’t going to just lead me on. But here we are again: me giving myself to you, you taking what you want and walking away.” She chokes back a sob. “I’m done with this, Jonas. I’m done with us.”
Grabbing her shoes, she rushes past me.
Taking my heart right along with her.
Slice Ten
Frankie
“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the town hussy, the girl who let the quarterback deflower her.”
Julian slides into the booth I snagged us at Ethel’s Pancake Emporium
.
The moment I rushed out of Jonas’ house, I realized I had no way of getting back to my apartment. So, I walked to the nearest restaurant—a mile and a half away, much to my chagrin—and called Julian.
“Nice shirt.” He winks at me, noting I’m still wearing Jonas’ high school tee.
I groan, slinking farther down into the booth. The movement causes my shorts to rub against the beard burn between my legs just right, and I’m torn between crying and moaning at the reminder of last night.
“Shut up.”
“You look…well, freshly fucked. You and Schwartz go for round two?”
That’s all it takes.
The floodgates open.
“Shit, sweetie,” Julian mutters, then he’s crawling onto the bench beside me and wrapping his tree-trunk-sized arms around me and rubbing my back.
He lets me cry it out, not saying anything, just holding me.
I think our waiter tries to come by, but he shoos her away.
I don’t know how long I stay wrapped in his embrace, but when the sobs begin to subside, he pulls my chin up, looking me over.
“Do I need to go kick his ass?”
I shake my head. “N-No, but can you kick mine for falling for his shit again?”
His brows scrunch together. “What happened?”
“He’s leaving me again.”
“Okay…”
“Okay?” I pull away from him. “What do you mean ‘okay’?”
“What else do you want me to say? Did you not think he’d ever leave again? He’s a fucking quarterback with contracts for the NFL. He was going to leave eventually.”
He’s not wrong. I know that, logically.
But tell it to my heart.
It sure isn’t getting the message.
“I…I know that, but—”
“No. No buts, Frankie. You knew it was going to happen so you can’t be upset about it.”
“I can too! He left me before, Julian. This isn’t the first time he’s just vanished.”
“The last time was bullshit and you both know it. Your father—”
He stops, eyes widening.
How does he know…
“Julian…”
“Did I mention how drop-dead sexy you look freshly fucked?” He grabs my hair, which is loosely secured in a half-ass bun. “Your hair is to die for.”
Team Player 2: A Sports Anthology Page 57
