Page 15 of A Slice of Love

“Me either.” He shoves a couple huge bites in. “The faster we get through college, the faster I can get to the NFL.”

“Oh, planning for the big leagues, huh?”

“Every damn day, baby.”

Skip-skipgoes my heart at the endearment.

“But don’t think I’m wanting those four years to just pass me by. I’m going to be spending every free moment I have between classes and practices with you.”

My movements halt when he discusses a future between us so freely. We’ve talked a lot about going to school together in our notebook. We didn’t plan it—because I’d much rather be going elsewhere for college—but as soon as we found out we’d be heading off to the same school come fall, it was all we could talk about.

The possibilities.

Shoveling another bite into my mouth, I try not to think about it and what his words imply, because what if I’m just twisting his words? What if Jonas doesn’t want to actuallydateme? Dating is a whole lot different than kissing.

“Don’t think I didn’t see that little pause. What’d I say?”

I peek over at him. “N-Nothing.”

Jonas laughs at the ice cream that begins to dribble down my chin. He reaches over, using his thumb to wipe away the mess.

That part doesn’t surprise me. He’s been touching me without hesitation all weekend.

What shocks me is when he sticks his thumb in his mouth, licking the sweet sticky goodness clean like it’s no big deal.

I gulp at the action, wishing I were his thumb right now.

“First, you’re a mess. Second, it’s not nothing. Is it because I said I want to spend time with you?”

I nod.

“And that’s…a surprise to you?”

“Yes,” I tell him honestly. “I know we’ve talked about going away to college together, but I don’t know exactly what that means.”

Jonas sighs and sets his half-eaten bowl of ice cream to the side.

I do the same with mine when he gestures for me to lie down.

We both do, side by side, staring up at the stars. Our hands are resting next to each other, our pinkies rubbing together.

We lie there for several quiet minutes…so long I start to count the stars on the ceiling to distract myself from the quiet.

“What do you want it to mean?” Jonas finally says.

I don’t answer right away. Not because I don’t know, but because I’m scared he won’t like the answer.

“Because for me, Frank, it meansus. And not just hanging out.”

EvenIhear my sharp inhalation.

He rolls to face me, and I mirror his position.

He watches me, waiting for an answer.

“Would…would that be okay?”

I’ve seen Jonas nearly every day for the last four years, which means I’ve seen many versions of him.

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