A Slice of Love

by Hunter, Teagan

“Hey, you jackass! I heard that.”

  Thea, my older sister by three years, comes waltzing through the front door.

  “She is very exhausting,” my dad agrees. “Trust me, I work with her all day. All. Day, Jonas,” he whispers dramatically.

  As much as my dad used to have me help in his auto shop, it was Thea who was drawn to the trade. My father made her go to school and get all the certifications she needed before hiring her to be part of the crew and making her work her way to the top. She now manages the second location at the other end of the island and lives next to the shop.

  I love my sister, and she’s one of the few reasons I don’t mind being home. We’ve always been close. She’s always there to give me a good pep talk or tell me when I’m being a complete and utter moron. While Thea can come off as a little abrasive to some, she’s nothing but brutally honest.

  Which is probably why she’s still single. There’s not a guy out there brave enough to handle her ass.

  “I heard that too.” She eyes my father. “Old man.”

  “This old man signs your paychecks, so watch it, missy.”

  “I’m not scared of you. Mom has my back.”

  My mother nods. “It’s true. Us ladies need to stick together.”

  “See, Pops? I win.” Thea smiles victoriously, and I bet she’d pat herself on the back right now if she wasn’t carrying a box of cookies in one hand and a coffee in the other.

  “What’s all that?” I ask her.

  “A bribe for the parentals.”

  “I’m not sure you’re supposed to tell them you’re bribing them.”

  “Please.” She rolls her eyes. “They knew it was a bribe the second I walked in with a full box of Daisy’s cookies. We all know I’d have scarfed these things down on my own if this wasn’t a bribe.”

  I nod. “Fair point. Well, I’ll leave you to woo. I’m heading out.”

  “Out?” Thea’s brows shoot up. “Where to?”

  “Meeting some friends for drinks.”

  “He’s meeting Frankie Callahan.” My mom smiles widely, her head clearly already brimming with ideas of romance.

  “Pastor Callahan’s daughter?”

  “She’s more than just the pastor’s daughter.”

  “You’re right—wasn’t she also the principal’s daughter?” Thea smarts off.

  “Yes.” I grit my teeth. “What’s your point?”

  “Don’t you think she’s a little out of your league?”

  See? That’s Thea—always straight to the point.

  “Good thing she’s just a friend and this is just drinks.”

  Thea takes a seat in the chair across from my parents, sliding the box of cookies toward them. My mother doesn’t hesitate, grabbing the box and plucking a cookie out. She breaks it in half, handing some to my father. Poor guy, too, because we all know that’s all he’s going to get.

  “Right. That’s what they all say in the beginning, but drinks always turn into something more. Just wait and see.”

  “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. “I do not want 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 spent way too 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.

  I pull into an empty spot at The Doorway and cut the engine on my old beat-up Blazer. It’s a ridiculous ride held together by hopes, prayers, and a little duct tape, but I love it. She’s my baby and I wouldn’t trade her for the world.

  Well, maybe for a Corvette, but don’t tell her I said that.

  I run a hand through my short beard, almost wishing I had shaved before I came, and force myself from the vehicle because I know I’ll sit around overthinking this if I don’t just get my ass inside.

  It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust when I walk into the dimly lit favorite local hang. I glance around, looking for Julian and Frankie, but I don’t see them.

  They must be running late too.

  “Well I’ll be damned. Schwartzy’s here, boys!”

  My eyes are drawn toward the boisterous voice. Sitting in a booth are three guys I played football with in high school. We were tight for many years, but my patience with them grew thin over my senior year. I haven’t spoken to any of them since graduation. Based on all the plans they had, I’m surprised to find them still living here.

  “Hey, Drake,” I say, approaching their table. “Wilson, Hill. How you guys been?”

  “Not bad. Not too bad at all. Here”—Drake scoots over, patting the open spot next to him—“have a seat.”

  “Oh, no, I can’t. I—”

  “Just a few minutes? We haven’t seen you since high school. Be nice to catch up a minute.”

  I’d rather get my own seat and wait for Julian and Frankie to show up, but I know they won’t relent until I’m sitting
down with them.

  I glance around the joint one last time, looking for my party, feeling dejected when I don’t see them, and reluctantly take a seat.

  “Just a few minutes,” I agree. “So, what have you guys been up to?”

  “Well,” Hill speaks up, “we all went off to State for a bit then decided college really wasn’t our thing.”

  “So we came back home and started our own landscaping business,” Wilson supplies.

  “Now we co-manage the most profitable lawn business on the island,” Drake finishes, a smile spreading across his face.

  “Wow,” I say. “That’s amazing, guys. Congrats.”

  “We heard about your accident.” Hill frowns sympathetically, but the sadness doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Sorry about the NFL. We were rooting for you.”

  Being the only one in your group of friends who’s dedicated enough to put in the hours to excel at your sport of choice can lead to jealousy among those who don’t agree with that line of thinking.

  Drake, Hill, and Wilson have always had green eyes when it comes to my success at the sport we all love. Back in school, they’d always make comments about my game and the glory that came with how good I was at it. It might have seemed like normal locker room jabs to most, but I saw through their words.

  They were jealous, plain and simple. Genuinely happy for me, but also indisputably jealous. The longer we played together and the more opportunities that came my way, the more prominent their envy became.

  “Actually, I’m still playing football. Doctors say I’ll make a full recovery.” Their brows rise, and I bask in the jealousy that sparks in their eyes. “It’s just a matter of when I’ll be able to get back out there, but I’m still under contract.”

  “What are you doing in the meantime?” Wilson asks.

  “A hell of a lot of physical therapy and delivering pizzas at Slice to keep myself sane. I was bored as shit sitting around at home, so I begged Simon Daniels for my job back.”

  “Oh, please. Like you’d have to beg anyone for anything. You’re Jonas Schwartz—you’re handed all that you want and need.”

  And there it is. The jab.

  I knew it was coming, but that doesn’t make it sting any less.

  A lot of people seem to think I was given everything I have, but that’s not even close to the truth.

  I didn’t grow up with money like the majority of kids on the island. We lived check to check every single week, but that was the price we paid so my father could pursue his dream of owning a shop of his own. My mom spent her days working in the office and running us kids back and forth to school and events.

  Don’t get me wrong, we weren’t living off cheap noodles or anything and Thea and I always had everything we needed, but we didn’t do family vacations. Our Christmas presents weren’t lavish. I didn’t get a brand-new car for my birthday.

  I worked for everything I had, especially football, because contrary to popular belief, the game didn’t come naturally to me. In fact, when I first started playing, I hated it. I didn’t like tackling—my small build wasn’t built for the impact. I didn’t like running—my asthma made it difficult. And I really hated all the sweating—nobody likes taking that many showers a day.

  No matter how much I hated it, I had to play. My mother used to send us to every free camp she could sign us up for over the summers. She couldn’t afford to lose the hours at the shop keeping us entertained at home.

  It wasn’t until the third summer of camp that I truly found my niche in the game.

  It took three summers and two different coaches, but I finally found one who let me try out for quarterback. Even though I sucked at tackling, hated running, and didn’t want to sweat…I could throw a ball like no other.

  But just because I can throw, that doesn’t mean I don’t have to work on all those other parts.

  I had to bulk up and keep up with my weightlifting routine without gaining too much mass. Running became something I did daily so I could make my lungs stronger. And the sweating…yeah, I still fucking hate that part.

  All the hard work I put into improving myself and my game paid off big with a full-ride football scholarship. I brought in hundreds of fans and dozens of football scouts, benefitting not just me but the whole team.

  I put in the blood, the tears, and I sure as shit put in the sweat.

  I’m good at the game, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have to work hard at excelling.

  I just wish these jackasses would see that.

  The front door is pulled open and Julian waltzes in.

  My breath quickens, because I know Frankie will be right behind him.

  She steps into the light pouring inside, and it’s as if the rays are illuminating her like a halo. Her head is thrown back in laughter at something Julian’s said, and I miss seeing her smile like that.

  I miss making her smile like that.

  I lean around the booth, letting my eyes trail down her body.

  Her red hair is wavier than it was the other day, and it reminds me of the old Frankie for a moment. She’s wearing a shirt that reminds of something a pirate would wear, the sleeves big and flowy. It’s hanging off her shoulders, and one of those lacy bra things that are all the rage peeks out from underneath.

  My favorite part, though, are the high-waisted Daisy Dukes she’s sporting, making her short legs look miles long…and her ass perfect.

  She’s stunning, and I’m kicking myself for missing her these last four years.

  If I’d had my way, Frankie and I would have spent every free moment we had in college together. That was my plan. Once we got away from all the hoopla of small-town gossip, I wanted to officially make her mine.

  I never got my chance.

  The guys notice I’m distracted and move their gazes her way.

  I’m instantly annoyed by the hunger I see in them.

  “Damn.” Drake whistles lowly. “Who’s that fox?”

  “That, my friends, is Frankie Callahan,” Wilson tells everyone. “I ran into her last week at the Grab ’N’ Grocery. She got real fuckable over the years.”

  I can practically hear him salivating, and I barely hold back my urge to punch him right in his face.

  Drake pipes up next. “You ain’t kidding. I’d bend her over in a heartbeat.”

  My blood boils, and I’m about two seconds from jumping across the table and choking the crap out of each of them when Frankie turns my way, the corners of her lips tilting up ever so slightly when she sees me.

  My world tilts.

  It’s subtle, but I feel the shift.

  And I don’t want it righted any time soon.

  But, per the usual lately, I’m shit out of luck.

  It’s like she catches herself, all the bad memories we share slamming into her at once, and her mouth falls into a thin line. Her body language shifts, shoulders going stiff.

  Just like that, she’s walled off her heart from me.

  She rushes toward the door, but Julian blocks her from making a hasty exit. I try not to laugh as she glares up at him, considering their size difference and all.

  I don’t have to be sitting close to them to know they’re talking about me. It’s obvious from the glances they both keep sending my way.

  Whatever Julian says seems to pacify her, and the tension sitting in her shoulders dissipates.

  “I can’t believe Julian Schenn gets to fuck her,” Drake says as Julian and Frankie make their way past our table and pop into a booth two seats down, all eyes following her swaying hips. “Shit, man. Of all the guys out there, she picks the part-time cocksucker to take that sweet virgin pussy. I’m jealous as fuck.”

  “In high school I secretly hoped I could get a go at her—really stick it to that bitch Principal Callahan for getting us suspended for those games—but nobody could get the girl to talk. I can’t believe she looks like she does now.”

  Drake points to Wilson. “Agreed.”

  “I dunno,” Hill chimes in, lea
ning back on the bench. “She was too shy for me. I like my ladies wild. Loose.”

  “I’ll take virgin pussy over loose pussy any day.” Drake takes a swig from the beer bottle he’s clutching. “What about you, Schwartz? Ever wanna fuck Frankie Callahan?”

  My jaw begins to ache from clenching my teeth so hard and I work to school my features, because there is no way I’m about to let these morons in on what transpired between me and Frank.

  I don’t answer his asinine question, instead pushing myself from the booth and standing over the end of the table, glowering down at the idiots before me and wondering how I was ever friends with such dickbags.

  “I think I better get going.”

  “What? Bailing so soon?” Wilson asks.

  “Yep. I’m meeting some friends.”

  “Anyone we know?”

  “Actually, yeah, and I just want to clear the air about something real quick.” I lean down, pressing my hands on the table. All three guys gather closer like I’m about to spew some deep, dark secret. “If I ever—and I mean fucking ever—hear any of you washed-up, sorry sacks of shit talk about Frankie Callahan again, I’ll staple your balls to a tree stump in the middle of the fucking town so everyone can see how small your dicks really are.”

  They all stare up at me, stunned into silence.

  “And one last thing… I bet Julian Schenn can suck a mean cock. I’m sure you can ask your dads for confirmation.” I tap the table twice. “Fun chatting with you all.”

  Without another glance in their direction, I make my way to Julian and Frankie’s booth.

  “Hey, guys. Sorry I’m late.”

  Slice Six

  Frankie

  “Did you just tell those morons I suck their dads’ dicks?”

  Julian’s stare is enough to send most men cowering.

  But not Jonas.

  He stares back, unaffected. “Yep.”

  His bravery stirs something in me I haven’t felt in far too long.

  Desire.

  I haven’t been a complete saint since my first sexual encounter, but I also haven’t gone all the way with anyone except Jonas. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had plenty of opportunities to—college boys are insanely horny—but it just never felt right with anyone else. I didn’t feel anything close to what I felt with Jonas.