Page 1 of A Slice of Love

Slice One

Jonas

Four years ago

The last time I was this nervous was freshman year when I stepped onto the football field for the first time as a varsity player.

I didn’t realize it then, but my life was about to change.

Everything, not just football.

The person I was expected to become changed overnight. The people I was supposed to interact with shifted on a major scale. The standards that had been set were obliterated, all new ones put in place. And the rumors that had never breathed life before suddenly had all the oxygen they’d ever need to survive.

Everything was different after that first Friday night.

Iwas different.

As I stand here on the doorstep of the only person in my life who knows me as Jonas Schwartz and not Jonas Schwartzthe quarterback, this moment is just as big as that first foot I let fall onto the field.

Everything is going to change again.

I don’t know how I know; I just do.

Or it’s wishful thinking.

Either way, I’m here, and I’m not going to miss whatever this is…or what it will become.

Lifting my hand, I rap my knuckles against the deep blue door.

Quickly, before she can answer, I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans.

Sweaty palms? Seriously? Get a fucking grip, Jonas. You’ve faced much bigger obstacles than this on the field.

But that’s just it—those obstacles were on the field.

Spending an entire weekend with my crush and trying to keep my hands off her because she’s the daughter of two very prominent people in our town? Well, a game against our biggest rival ain’t shit compared to this.

I hear scuttling from behind the door.

Yet nothing happens.

I’m almost certainsheis standing on the other side.

I picture her mess of red frizz being tousled more than usual because she can’t stop running her hands through it, the nerves getting the better of her.

I bet she has her thick bottom lip crushed between her teeth, bet she can’t seem to stop herself from chewing on it despite the fact that it’s splitting and cracking and has to be painful at this point.

I imagine her fingers are pulling at the hem of that black cardigan she’s always wearing.

There’s no doubt in my mind she’s every bit as nervous as I am, maybe even more.

She’s the town good girl, and when it comes to me, good is a word they only use to describe my playing abilities.

She’s completely off limits.

Sucks for me because I’ve been crushing on Frankie Callahan for years now. Which is why when we werefinallyseated next to one another for the first time during our high school careers, I took advantage of it.

I slid a notebook her way with a silly message in it.

---