Page 33 of A Slice of Love

“This coming from you, Ms. Sworn Off Men Forever? What do you know about dating?”

“Hey, just because I’m single doesn’t mean I don’t date.” She winks. “I get around.”

“Thea!” my dad hisses. “Ido notwant to hear this.”

“I’ve had sex, Dad.” She throws her hands up in the air. “Surprise!”

“You’re going to be the death of me, kid.” He shakes his head. “Hell, between you and all your escapades and Jonas falling off bleachers, I have my hands full.”

Thea leans across the table, looking him square in the eye. “I think you meant sexcapades, Dad.”

He plugs his fingers in his ears, shouting, “I’M NOT LISTENING TO THIS!”

The scene in front of me almost makes it worth me breaking my knee and being home with my family.

Almost.

“On that note, I’m out.”

I give them a wave and scram before anyone else can start talking about their sex life.

I race up the stairs, checking my phone on the way and seeing I only have fifteen minutes before I’m supposed to meet Julian and Frankie, meaning I have no time to lollygag in the shower.

Probably for the best since last night I spentwaytoo long doing just that.

I couldn’t help it. Once the images of that red hair and those big, brown eyes hit my mind, they wouldn’t leave, and I was a goner. Before I knew it, my hand was wrapped around my dick and I was standing under the stream until the water ran cold.

Once showered and changed, I spend a little more time than anticipated working my fingers through my hair for the perfect effortlessly messy look, annoyed with myself for caring so much as I press the gas a little harder to race down the streets of our small North Carolina beach town.

She’s just a girl, I try to tell myself.

But I know that’s not true.

Frankie isn’t “just a girl”. She never has been.

I remember the first time I saw her, the first day of freshman year. My schedule was a mess and I needed to get it fixed. She was standing in front of me, trying to get something or another figured out herself. I reckoned she must be new to the area, because I was certain I’d have remembered crazy red curls like that.

She spoke so softly I could barely hear her. On instinct, I stepped closer, trying to make out what she was saying.

That was the first time I smelled the oranges.

I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply, loving the fresh scent.

I was so lost in my own world that I didn’t even notice her leaving and was thoroughly embarrassed when the receptionist had to call out to me twice to snap me out of it.

Imagine my surprise when she was sitting next to the only empty seat in first period history.

I spent the entire first week stealing glances at her, certain she’d peek over at any moment and catch me staring like a complete creep.

It took me until Friday to work up the courage to actually speak to her, and the only thing I could come up with was asking for a pencil.

I had an entire box of them in my backpack.

There’s a tiny part of me that feels bad for asking her for a pencil every week when I had my own, but it was the only time I’d ever actually speak to her.

Unfortunately for me, we didn’t have another chance to be seated together until senior year.

Then things escalated to a whole new level.

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