Page 45 of A Slice of Love

Her words stop me, and my heart seizes when her eyes collide with mine. She looks so…sad. She looks sorry.

“I wasn’t there. I had tickets, but I also had an interview I couldn’t miss. There was no way I could have made it back in time.”

Shoving my hands into my pockets so I don’t reach for her again and try to soothe away the sadness radiating off her, I nod. “I know.”

“But that’s why you climbed the bleachers. You thought you saw me. Right?”

“I saw you at the previous game—I’d know those curls anywhere—and I scoured the stands for you at the bowl game. I thought there was no way you’d miss it. There was a girl with wild curls, and the light hit them just right. I was so certain it was you. So, I jumped. I took the chance. I called your name, but you didn’t turn around. The realization that you weren’t there knocked me on my ass.”

“Literally.” Her lips twitch. “Sorry. Too soon probably.”

I can’t help but laugh. “I kind of miss you giving me shit.”

“Someone’s gotta do it.”

“Well,” I say, rocking back on my heels. “Good night, Frank.”

We don’t move.

“You’re not leaving,” she says quietly.

“Because I don’t want to. Also, because I’m waiting for you to walk inside. I’m not leaving you standing in the middle of the sidewalk.”

“Oh,” she squeaks. “Right. Well, bye.”

She darts off up the stairs and toward her apartment building.

Just as she pulls open the door, she looks back at me.

I tilt my head in a silent question. She chews on her bottom lip, like she’s trying to bite back whatever it is she wants to say.

She shakes her head, and I know I’m not getting anything else out of her tonight.

“Good night, Jonas.”

She disappears inside, and for what feels like the millionth time, I want to kick myself for ever believing her father’s threats and letting her go.

I might be back in town because of my bum knee, but it’s not the only thing I need to fix.

Slice Eight

Frankie

I’ve concluded something is wrong with me.

I’ve ordered from Slice four times since Jonas left me at my apartment, just trying to catch a glimpse of him, but he hasn’t delivered to me once.

I don’t know why I want to see him. I’m still angry.

But I also miss him. I miss how easy everything is between us. Well, how easy itusedto be.

Now I’m turned on by our sparring.

Ugh. Maybe I just need to masturbate to him and get it over with. Over the last week, I’ve found myself sliding my hand into my panties too many times, always pulling away before I finish.

I don’t know if I’m punishing myself for wanting him, or if I’m just insane.

Since I’m currently on hold waiting to place yet another order, I’m going with insane.

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