Page 42 of A Slice of Love

“No we won’t,” he interrupts.

“Uh, yes we will.”

“I’ll walk from your house.”

“Jonas, it’ll be midnight by the time we get to my place, and you live almost a mile away. Don’t be stupid.”

“I’m not being stupid. I want the fresh air.”

“Fine.” I huff. “Suit yourself.”

Then, it’s quiet again.

Our go-to.

Despite our arguing earlier, I actually had a good time tonight.

Hanging out with Jonas wasn’t so bad when Julian was there.

I guess that’s our issue—we can’t be alone together.

We’re either fucking or fighting, and since we definitely aren’t fucking right now, fighting it is.

“Your voice sounds different than it used to.”

“The more I drink, the deeper it gets. I’ve been spending a lot of my time drinking lately.”

Despite how I feel about Jonas and the way he left me, my heart aches at the thought of him losing the one thing he loved most in this world—the game.

Even though we didn’t attend the same college, the art institute I attended was an affiliate of his school and our campus claimed his football team as our own. By the morning after the game, everyone was talking about his fall and the repercussions—a shattered kneecap and his NFL career put on an indefinite hold.

“Why’d you climb the bleachers, Jonas?”

He sighs heavily, sinking back into the seat, closing his eyes, and rubbing at his temples.

“You don’t have to tell me.”

Miles pass by before he says anything again, and the only sound in the quiet cab is the soft melody of some folk song drifting through the speakers.

“Do you want the story I’ve been feeding everyone for months or the actual reason?”

My mouth drops open at the offer.

I’m stunned.

Not that he’s been lying to everyone—Jonas proved he’s a snake a long time ago—but that he’d give me of all people the real story behind his literal fall from grace.

“You’d give that to me?”

“Sure. You won’t believe me, but I’ll tell you.”

“Why wouldn’t I believe you?”

“Because it involves you.”

Slice Seven

Jonas

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