A Slice of Love

by Hunter, Teagan

  Looking at him was intoxicating, and I was ready to get drunk.

  “I-I-I am.”

  “I’m Jonas. It’s nice to meet you.”

  I didn’t say anything back. I couldn’t. I was paralyzed by him.

  “Say, do you have a pencil I could borrow? I seemed to have forgotten mine.”

  “S-Sure.”

  And that was our first encounter.

  We didn’t become instant best friends or anything like that, but I did feel something instantly.

  Over the years, we shared more classes, but I was never lucky enough to sit next to him again until senior year. We didn’t run in the same circle—okay, fine, I didn’t have a circle—but our paths crossed in other ways. Overlapping gym classes. The fact that I was in band and got to play at all his football games.

  The fact that he was Jonas Schwartz and he was all over the school all the time.

  Sometimes, he’d nod at me in the hall or give me a small smile, and though I knew it had nothing to do with me and everything to do with Jonas being friendly to everyone, it was always enough to make me giddy for weeks.

  There’s no denying I had a mad crush on Jonas from the first day I met him. It was a no-brainer to me that when he finally saw me for me and liked me back, I gave him my all.

  Except he turned out to not be the guy I thought he was and ripped my heart out.

  “My lost virginity says he is,” I snark at my best friend. “Besides, you went to college with him—I’m sure you saw all the girls he was with.”

  “Actually, come to think of it, I can’t recall a single time I saw him with a girl.” Julian runs a hand through his hair, playing with the dark blond locks, pulling and twisting them. “Sure, there were always chicks around, but I surprisingly didn’t hear many rumors about him and his extracurriculars, not like we did in high school. He kept things lowkey.”

  I hate the way my blood starts pumping a little faster at this new information.

  I truly thought once Jonas hit college, he’d be sowing his wild oats up and down the dorms. It was one of the reasons why, at the last minute, I accepted the offer I received from the art school I’d secretly applied to. I couldn’t bear the thought of having to see him with all those different girls.

  It was the push I needed. I put my foot down with my parents and went to school for what I wanted to—art.

  Even though I was still attending a college close by, they didn’t take the news well. They didn’t think an art degree would benefit me financially long-term and wanted me to pursue teaching like my mother or a business degree where the options were endless.

  It took six months before my mother spoke to me again, and three and a half years for my father to accept it…which he only did because of the cancer spreading through his lungs.

  Losing Jonas and any relationship I had with my father made for a tough few years.

  “Basically, what I’m saying is, there is still hope he now bats for my team,” Julian explains, pulling me from my mind.

  “Technically”—I hold up a finger—“he does bat for your team since you bat for both.”

  He grabs his junk. “This team, sweetie.”

  “Ick.” I shudder. “Pass on that junk.”

  “Oh, I see how it is. My junk isn’t good enough for you, but you’ll take Schwartz’s junk. Noted.” He grins smugly, and I want to slap it off his face. “It’s the beard, isn’t it? Because I’ll grow one, baby.” He winks. “I bet I’d look hot as fuck too.”

  I groan. “Why are you still here? The shelf is assembled. Your services are no longer needed.”

  “You’re telling me you’ve been using me?” He holds a hand to his chest. “And here I thought you invited me over because you like my company.”

  “If I liked your company, I’d have gotten pizza for two.”

  “Rude.”

  “But true.”

  I grab another slice and try to ignore the holes he’s staring into the side of my head, but it’s difficult. He’s so big and takes up so much room; he’s hard to ignore.

  “What?” I finally ask. “Out with it already. I know you have something to say, so just say it.”

  “How do you know I have something to say?”

  “Because you always have something to say.”

  “Fair.” He laughs. “What are you gonna do about Jonas being back?”

  “What do you mean back? You two only went to college an hour away. I’m the one who’s back.”

  He groans, clearly annoyed by me playing dumb. “You know what I mean, Frankenstein.” He jostles me with his giant foot. “Now that you’re both back in the same town for the first time in four years, what are you gonna do?”

  “What I always do: pretend he doesn’t exist.”

  “Do you really think that’s the best play? I saw the way he looked at you just now, and he didn’t exactly look upset to see you. He was too busy appreciating the new you.”

  The new me—I’m still not used to her.

  After landing my dream job, I got my wild hair straightened and got contacts. It’s amazing what a haircut and taking your glasses off can do for you.

  I must admit, I hate how right he is. Jonas didn’t look upset to see me, something that elates me and makes me sad all at once.

  Why couldn’t he see me in high school? Why couldn’t he have looked at me like that back then? So…excited?

  Just because he’s doing it now doesn’t change anything.

  I’m still mad. I’m still not over what happened.

  “Yes. Ignoring Jonas and pretending he doesn’t exist is most definitely the best play.”

  “You trying to convince me of that or yourself?”

  “If I wasn’t so in love with this pizza, I’d throw it at you.”

  “I doubt that. Besides, I’m leaving—need to get started on that project for Barry.”

  Ah, good old Barry, chief executive of Allen Illustrations where Julian and I both work. I’m in the design department and he’s with the writers. The medium Julian settled on is the written word, and he’s damn good at it.

  He pushes himself off the couch, standing over me, hands on his hips.

  I stare up at him, a slice of my pie hanging from my mouth. “Can I help you?”

  With the reflexes of a cat, he snatches two slices from the box in my lap and holds them up in victory.

  “Ha! Sucker!”

  “What the heck! You pizza thief! That’s a felony!”

  “Oh really?” He raises a brow at me. “Stealing pizza is a felony? How so?”

  “Well, it’s not technically, but it should be because pizza is the most priceless thing on our planet. Besides, how are you going to drive and eat two slices of pizza at the same time? You don’t have enough hands.”

  “Like this.” Julian slaps the two slices together, cheese side in, and takes a huge bite out of his creation. “See?”

  “That’s genius, but I still hate you for stealing my pizza. Be gone, you thief!”

  Rolling his eyes, he leans down and smacks a loud kiss to my cheek. “I’ll see you later, Frank.”

  My eyes narrow to slits.

  “What?” he questions, backing away toward the door. “I can’t call you that, but Jonas can?”

  Yes. “No.”

  “Uh-huh. Sure.” Another wink. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  “It’s Monday, so I guess so.”

  “Don’t forget the donuts. It’s your turn.”

  “Ugh.” I groan. “That means I’ll have to get up early.”

  “It’s for donuts—it’s worth it.”

  “For you.” I shake the pizza at him. “I had breakfast plans already.”

  “I’m sorry, but you were going to have leftovers and you still weren’t going to offer me any pizza?”

  “Nope.”

  “I don’t know if I should be mad and say you’re the worst best friend ever, or if I should let you see my boner right now.”

  “Julian!” I grab
whatever’s sitting next to me on the table and chuck it his way.

  He blocks the coaster effortlessly with his meaty paw that could double as a glove. “Ha! Missed.”

  “Get out!”

  “I’m going, I’m going.”

  He pulls open the front door, takes one step out, and pauses again, looking back at me with sad eyes.

  I sigh. “What now?”

  “You’re gonna be mad.”

  His eyes aren’t sad; they’re guilty.

  “Julian…what did you do.” It doesn’t come out a question, more of a threat.

  He shoots me a sweet smile.

  “Well,” he drawls out, “I kind of made a date for us.”

  I feel the color drain from my face, shaking my head, eyes wide. “You didn’t. Please tell me you didn’t.”

  “I did. We’re having drinks with Jonas tomorrow night.”

  “But…why? Why would you do that to me?”

  He lifts a shoulder. “Because, Frankie, it’s time you got some fuckin’ answers. If you’re too chickenshit to question Jonas, I will. I respected your boundaries when you were away for school, but after seeing the way you looked at him and reacted to him tonight, it’s clear there’s still something eating at you. Besides, you need a night out. You’re dealing with a lot with your dad. Let’s go out and let loose.”

  He’s got me there. I am struggling with my father.

  I’m irritated with him for cutting ties when I chose my version of happiness and not his. He missed out on my entire college career because of his stubbornness. My art was displayed in two prominent galleries, and the intractable man refused to attend either events. I had my art printed in a national magazine and didn’t even get a phone call or Good job text.

  He abandoned me because I wasn’t fitting into his mold.

  So, yeah, I’m angry.

  But I’m also scared because the cancer isn’t getting any better. It’s spreading, and he might not be around much longer to be angry at.

  I could use a drink or two to keep the anger at bay—anger at both my father and Jonas.

  “I don’t want answers. I just want to move on.”

  He gives me a look. He knows better than anyone that any attempts I’ve made at moving on have been futile.

  No matter how angry I am, I can’t seem to stay away.

  It always comes back to Jonas, and I’m starting to think it always will.

  He shrugs again. “Just think about it. I’ll see you tomorrow. And don’t forget the—”

  “Donuts.” I roll my eyes. “Yeah, I heard you.”

  “Night, Frankenstein.”

  “Night, Igor.”

  Slice Five

  Jonas

  “Thanks for staying late and helping. We appreciate it, son.” Simon Daniels, my boss and the owner of Slice, claps me on the back. “I’m sure you have much better things to do than help out around here.”

  “It’s no problem, Mr. Daniels. It’s kind of nice being back at the old hang.”

  “We’re glad you’re here—not just because of the added hands, but because we’ve been getting extras calls about sending out the Jonas Schwartz to deliver a pizza.” He winks at me, teasing me about the fact that no less than four groups of high school girls came in today to see me. The joys of working in your hometown. “Helps drum up some business.”

  “Sorry about them,” I mutter.

  “Don’t be. We’re lucky to have you back. It’s been too long since we’ve seen you around these parts.”

  “Well, I’m back for now.” I shake my leg at him. “But as soon as I get this old knee moving right again, I’m gone.”

  “You better be, and I better get a shout-out when you’re rich and famous. After all, I was the first to employee your sorry, broke ass.” He gives me another pat. “You’re free to go when you’re done wiping down these booths. I’ll clock ya out.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Daniels.”

  “Dammit, son. Don’t make me tell you again—it’s Simon.”

  “Thanks, Simon,” I correct.

  He leaves me to finish up, and I’m done within five minutes. I don’t waste any time sitting around shooting the shit with the crew and race out to my car.

  I don’t have long to get home and shower before I have to meet Frankie and Julian at The Doorway.

  Luckily, Slice isn’t far from my childhood home—a big reason why I agreed to stay and help today—and I’m pulling into the driveaway in no time.

  “I’m back!” I holler when I push through the front door.

  “In the kitchen, son.”

  I round the corner, smiling at the scene in front of me.

  My mom’s sitting on my dad’s lap at the table, and they’re enjoying a glass of wine post dinner. It’s a weekly tradition for them, sitting together, sipping wine from Solo cups, and chatting about their day. It’s simple, but I think it’s one of the secrets of their marriage.

  A lot of children would think it’s gross to see their parents display such affection, but those children are dumb because I am thankful every single day my parents are still together and going strong after thirty years of marriage.

  “How was your day, kiddo?” my mom asks.

  “Good. We were slow up until the last few hours then I couldn’t catch a break. Offered to stay late and help Simon until the rush was over.”

  “That place is always jam-packed after all these years. He should really consider opening another one in the area,” my dad says. “I bet they’d make a fortune having one on the other end of the island.”

  “Probably. Would help with delivery fees, too. Maybe I’ll bring it up to him.”

  “How was therapy this morning? Your knee doing any better?”

  There it is, the question I was hoping to avoid.

  My knee is doing better, but it’s not where I want it to be.

  But, to be fair, where I want to be is on the field.

  I was told three to six months to heal after surgery, but here I am at six months and I just don’t have the stamina I need to be able to play an entire game.

  I need to heal faster. I have to if I ever want to play for the NFL like I’ve been dreaming of for years.

  I try to ignore the spark of hope in my father’s eye. If he had his way, I’d stay here forever and help at his shop. It was his dream for us to join forces after college, but all that changed in high school when I made varsity my freshman year and started gaining the attention of college coaches and agents alike. Then the plan became the NFL.

  It’s not that my father isn’t proud of me for all my sports accomplishments, but I know deep his in heart, he doesn’t want me to leave him. What parent does?

  I think, though, that’s the worst part of all of this. I let my father down by not following his dream for me and now I’ve fucked everything up.

  “Everything’s fine,” I say evasively. “I’m gonna grab a quick shower and get going.”

  “Where ya off to?” my dad asks, respecting my boundaries even though I know they’re both dying to pepper with me questions about my recovery.

  “Do you guys remember Frankie Callahan?”

  “Pastor Callahan’s daughter?”

  I nod. “Yep.”

  My mom smiles fondly. “Oh yes. How could I forget the way she’d stare at you on Sundays?” She laughs. “She was so smitten with you.”

  “She was not,” I argue.

  “She was probably just surprised to see his heathen ass in church,” my dad says.

  “That.” I point toward him. “It’s that right there. I’m just a heathen.”

  Mom tips her cup toward me. “Can’t argue with that. Are you just meeting with Frankie or other friends too?”

  She tries to tamp down her eagerness, but I can see through her supposedly innocuous question.

  “Julian Schenn will be there too.”

  My mom’s excitement falters when I say this.

  As much as I like Julian, I also wish it were just going to be
me and Frankie. I’ve missed her, and I’d really like to have a little alone time with her.

  But I know that’s not going to be possible any time soon.

  Hence our buffer, Julian—the brilliant man behind this setup.

  When he followed me out into the hallway, we were all smiles and pleasantry until we were out of earshot from Frankie. Then I shoved his big ass into the wall and demanded to know what the hell was up.

  After I ended things with Frankie, I was a wreck, especially because it was the last thing I wanted to do, but it was necessary at the time…at least I thought it was.

  Shit was dark for a while. My life was school, drink, school, drink. Repeat, repeat, repeat. I have no idea how I graduated on time because my grades were absolute trash during my freshman year of college.

  About six months into the school year, I ran into Schenn’s familiar face at a party put on by the frat I was rushing.

  Drunk off my ass, I told him everything that’d happened with Frankie and how I was so fucking close to throwing everything away and chasing after her…wherever she was.

  Somehow, he talked me off the ledge, and I didn’t do anything hasty.

  But the prick didn’t bother to mention he was friends with Frankie and knew exactly where it was she’d run off to.

  Last night he asked if I still thought about her, and I didn’t have to think about the answer.

  I did.

  I do.

  At least once a week, I look for her on social media, hoping and praying she got a wild hair up her ass and made an account.

  It’s been that way for four years.

  I regret nothing more than walking away from her, because nothing and nobody has ever made me feel the way she does.

  Seen.

  I suppose my answer was enough for Julian, because he offered to help me make things right and then proposed supervised drinks tonight to help get Frankie and me in the same room.

  He didn’t have to ask me twice.

  “Okay, off to shower. You two crazy kids have a good night. Don’t wait up. And, please, for the love of all things holy, wear protection. The last thing I need is another sibling. Thea is quite enough, thank you.”