Page 2 of A Slice of Love

She sent something back.

We’ve been thick as thieves since. Not that I’d admit it to anyone, but hell, she’s probably my best friend based on everything she knows about me. That’s damn insane considering we’ve only spoken to one another aloud a handful of times.

But that’s what college will be for.

With the school year winding down, it’s almost all our notes have been about—our escape route. She’s going for some bullshit degree her parents want her to get. I’m headed there for football.

None of that matters though. The point is we’ll be there together. Just us.

We’ll be free there, and I can’t fucking wait.

The lock slides, signaling she’sfinallygoing to open the door, and I exhale a heavy breath to steady myself.

Fuck. Here we go.

She pulls the door open with such slowness it’s almost painful to watch.

When her face finally appears in the opening, I can’t help but smile, because that damn bottom lipistucked tightly between her teeth.

“Hey, Frank,” I say.

Her eyes widen, like she wasn’t expecting me to be real.

That familiar color of blush steals up her cheeks when she realizes I’ve gone and called her Frank again.

“Jonas.”

She says my name on a quiet breath but makes no move to let me in. Ineedher to let me in, not because I can’t wait to get this weekend started, but because the longer I linger on her front porch, the more likely it is someone will spot me, and the jig will be up.

I’m aware that what we’re doing, me sneaking over to her house for the weekend while her parents are away is wrong, but I don’t care.

I want this too much. I want to spend time with her without the prying eyes. I want to get to know her.

“I told you, it’s Frankie,” she murmurs shyly, because that’s exactly what she is—shy.

It’s a reason we’d make no sense together.

Frankie Callahan is everything I’m not.

She’s the golden girl. Untouchable. She’s perfect.

It’s not that I’m a bad guy. I respect my teachers and parents and I get good grades. And even though I do all of those things and I lead the football team, I’m nowhere near good enough for her.

“I thought we agreed Frank suits you better.”

“No,youdecided it did.”

“I don’t think I heard you argue when I said it. You just blushed.” I grin at her and watch as her cheeks deepen in color. “Like you are now.”

She shoves at the big, bulky glasses she always wears and pulls on the frayed edge of her sweater again. It’s the same one she wears to school every day.

She still doesn’t invite me in, and I can feel myself start to fidget because standing out in the open is beginning to make me nervous.

A sure sign you’re about to fuck up, Jonas. Walk away now.

Walk away.

It’s exactly what Ishoulddo.

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