Page 59 of A Slice of Love

She knows I’m not apologizing just for her father’s cancer, but for us too. We both know I’m partially to blame for the demise of her relationship with her parents, and it guts me to know that.

I see it in her eyes: the forgiveness, the acceptance that the past is the past.

Her hands find my hair as I drop my lips to hers. It’s like she’s holding me to her, not wanting me to let go.

I didn’t plan on it.

Our mouths tangle together, and it’s not long before we’re both needing more.

Frankie is the first to pull away, resting her forehead against my shoulder.

“I thought you said no ulterior motives.”

“I did, and I meant it…but I couldn’t help myself.”

“I’m sure you couldn’t.” She smiles. “How are your parents doing?”

I cough out a laugh. “Did you really just ask me how my parents are doing when I’m standing between your legs with my cock trying to bust out of my jeans?”

“Yes. Is your boner going away now? Do you still want to kiss me?”

“I always want to kiss you, Frank.”

She laughs, shoving at me. “Stop it.”

“No, I’m serious. I always want to kiss you. I’ve alwayswantedto kiss you.” I take a step away and shove my hands into my pockets so I don’t reach for her again. “I’ve kind of had a crush on you since I first saw you.”

“Oh bull.”

“No, I’m serious. I did. It was your first day. I saw you in the office and there was just something about you that I liked. Then we sat next to each other in first period and I was a goner.”

“No.” She shakes her head. “You’re just saying all that to make me feel better about my crush. You didn’t see me.”

“Are you kidding me, Frank? You were all I saw.”

“Then why didn’t you ever do anything about it?”

“You were my pastorandmy principal’s daughter. I was…well, me. I couldn’t touch you. We both know that.”

“But you did,” she murmurs, both hands placed on either side of her. “You did touch me.”

“And I don’t regret a single moment of it.”

She doesn’t say anything, just sits there swinging her legs back and forth, avoiding all eye contact with me.

“Do you?”

“Do I what, Jonas?”

She’s really going to make me say it…

“Do you regret it?”

She sighs. “I’ve tried to.” Finally, she glances up at me. “I’ve tried to so many times over the years.”

“And?” I press.

“No, Jonas, I don’t regret it.”

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