A Slice of Love

by Hunter, Teagan

  JONAS: How much? Like read our notebook kind of much? You’ve been saving it for tonight, haven’t you?

  ME: How’d you know?

  JONAS: Because you never commented on any of my witty anecdotes. And because you always save them for nights you’ll need them.

  ME: Whatever. I’m starting it now, so hush.

  JONAS: How are you so sassy from so far away?

  ME: It’s a gift. Now zip it.

  JONAS: Yes ma’am!

  I smile down at my phone.

  I haven’t seen Jonas in three weeks now, and somehow, it feels like a lifetime.

  Stupid when you consider the fact that we once went four years without each other.

  Since he left for Colorado last year to start his career, we’ve made a point to see each other at least every other month. It’s a little hectic to schedule—and a little heavy on my budget—but we do it anyway because we can’t seem to get enough of each other.

  Each time Jonas shows up on a Friday and leaves on a Sunday, he drops our notebook onto my hallway table just before he leaves, and each time, I save it for a day when I’ll really need it.

  Like tonight. Our one-year anniversary.

  I still can’t believe we’ve been together for a whole year now, let alone the fact that we’ve spent all of it doing the long-distance thing.

  But that’s coming to an end soon. I hope.

  My dad is doing a lot better than he was. He even got to ring the bell three months ago.

  I would have jumped on a plane to be with Jonas that day, but I was offered a promotion at work that I couldn’t pass up.

  We decided we’d wait until the season is over to figure out what our next move is in terms of being together full-time.

  I won’t lie, the wait is excruciating.

  The irrational part of my brain says to just quit my job and jump in with both feet.

  The rational part knows that’s a stupid idea.

  And it’s not like Jonas can just move wherever he pleases with his budding NFL career.

  So we wait.

  We wait and it sucks.

  It sucks because we keep missing things, like birthdays. Some holidays. Anniversaries.

  On a sad sigh, I open our latest notebook—we’re on our sixth for the year—flipping through the pages, smiling at the silly things we tend to write to each other.

  I stop at one I both love and hate to read, because apparently I’m a glutton for punishment.

  Yesterday at practice the guys were talking about all the dates they’ve been scoring on Tinder. I won’t lie, it makes me super fucking jealous. I want to take you on dates. I want to go home to you at night, not an apartment full of horny jocks. I want your goodnight kisses and your good morning ones too.

  I want you.

  God, I fucking miss you.

  Shit. Sorry.

  I shouldn’t have written that. That’s not going to be fun for you to read later.

  I’m sorry.

  I love you.

  My heart tugs at the ache I feel in his words.

  Jonas apologized to me for that before I even read it.

  I’m glad I had some warning, because if I’d have read that without one, I’d have broken.

  I flip the page, hoping for something funny to follow.

  Remember the dude I told you about who thinks he’s hot shit?

  Guess who shit his pants in the gym today in front of everyone…

  Instant. Fucking. Classic.

  We laughed about that one for weeks.

  The guy deserved it, especially after he sacked Jonas in practice.

  Jerk.

  I flip through to another page.

  We have a video chat scheduled in five minutes, but I had to get this off my chest before I explode and accidentally tell you.

  Remember last week when we were discussing some of our sexual fantasies?

  One of mine is watching you get off with a toy that I control.

  Today, I ordered you a vibrator.

  You don’t know this yet because it won’t get there until tomorrow.

  So that means you also don’t know that I had the controller sent here.

  Fuck, I can picture you blushing while reading this, and it has my dick aching.

  Shit. Now I’m hard and you’re calling and I’m not asking for another video chat until you have that vibrator.

  So just remember when you’re reading this later, I had a boner the entire time we talked.

  I’m pathetic.

  Jonas isn’t here and he’s causing me to ache.

  When his gift arrived, I almost didn’t open it because I knew I hadn’t ordered anything.

  He was right—I did blush when I saw the toy.

  Then I used it…without him.

  I couldn’t stop myself.

  I pulled it right out of the package, charged it, and took it for a spin.

  And what a spin it was.

  Jonas did good. Jonas did real good.

  If possible, it was even better having him control it from a thousand miles away. It’s been a steady star of our video chats lately, especially the longer we stay separated.

  I flip the page again, hoping for something that’ll make me laugh and not think about missing him.

  Roses are red.

  I don’t believe violets are blue.

  I miss Slice pizza.

  Just like I miss you.

  He wrote that poem—if it can even be called that—last month, just two days before he flew out. He walked into my apartment, Slice box in hand, two slices missing.

  I teased him for it and then informed him violets are in fact blue.

  We argued about it until we fell into bed together.

  And now I’m thinking about Jonas naked again.

  Maybe flipping through our notebooks when my vibrator needs a charge isn’t the best idea…

  I turn the page anyway, excited because whatever I read next is going to be new.

  I like to save the new material as long as I can, only allowing myself the treats on days I’m really missing Jonas.

  Do me a favor, will you?

  Draw more pictures for me. Like you used to back in high school.

  I need something new to hang in my locker.

  I was thinking about your ankles the other day.

  I know, I know. It sounds nuts.

  But remember that time I told you I bet you had sexy ankles?

  I was right.

  Also, I ate an orange today just because I missed you.

  Stop judging me.

  I was craving frozen yogurt tonight and went to a place just down the street.

  It reminded me of our first weekend together and all those damn sundaes you made us eat because you went overboard with the junk food.

  I didn’t eat ice cream for years after that. It made me sad just to think about it.

  I love ice cream again now, and memories of that weekend make me all marry and shit.

  I don’t think you can say “and shit” at the end of a statement like that and it still be romantic, but we’re going with it. No takebacks and all that.

  I love you, Frank.

  Of course Jonas would find a way to make me smile over the use of the word shit.

  Someone should probably talk to him about his spelling though, because that’s definitely not the version of merry he intended to use.

  I wet my finger and turn the page, kind of loving how sentimental he’s getting over our history.

  I never thought you’d give me another chance after everything went down with us all those years ago.

  I’m so fucking glad you did.

  It was the beard, wasn’t it?

  Either way, you make me feel like the luckiest son of a bitch in the whole world.

  I love you, Frank.

  Always have, always will, baby.

  How is it possible he can take my breath away from across the country?

  I flip the page again, and my brows instantly sl
am together.

  Well, what’s the answer? You’re killing me here.

  Answer? To what question?

  Did he mean to write that?

  I think back to the phone conversations we’ve had, trying to figure out if he asked me a question I never gave him an answer for, if this is some inside joke I’m just not picking up on right now.

  I’m coming up blank.

  I go back through the most recent notes, and I can’t find any unanswered questions in them either.

  Then something catches my eye.

  “What the hell…” I mutter, staring down at the words sticking out at me. “No. There’s no way…”

  I shake my head, smiling as my heart begins to swell, tears prickling my eyes from the emotional overload I’m experiencing.

  Right there, in bolded letters, it reads, Will you marry me?

  I laugh, and the tears fall free.

  That’s why he used marry and not merry.

  I grab my phone to call him just as the doorbell chimes through my tiny apartment, signaling the arrival of my dinner.

  I figured if I couldn’t spend my anniversary with my main squeeze, I’d go for my second love—pizza.

  Crossing my small living room, I swipe at the happy tears rolling down my cheeks and smooth down my hair, trying to look like less of a mess for the poor delivery person on the other side of the door.

  “It’s about goddamn time,” I hear when I pull it open.

  My knees almost buckle, and my hand goes straight to my chest, trying to hold my leaping heart inside. “Jesus!”

  “No. My name is Jonas. Like the Weezer song.”

  I stare at him, mouth hanging open.

  Somehow, even though I only saw him three weeks ago, he looks bigger, bulkier. He looks every bit the NFL quarterback that he is.

  And that beard.

  I bite my lip just thinking about the way it feels between my legs.

  Snapping out of it, I launch myself into his arms.

  He catches me like he was made to do just that.

  “I can’t believe you’re here!” I say into his neck, because that’s where my face is buried. “Wait.” I pull back. “How are you here?”

  “Well, this may come as a shock to you, but in 1903, right here in North Carolina, they built this thing called an airplane and—ow! What the hell, Frank? Quit pulling my hair.”

  “Quit being a smartass and kiss me.”

  He does.

  Jonas crashes his mouth against mine, capturing my lips in a kiss that steals my breath and breathes life into me all at the same time. His hard lips move against mine, fitting over them like they were made for kissing me.

  When we pull apart after what feels like hours and all too soon, he grins at me.

  His full lips pull into a smirk. “Hey, Frank.”

  “Hi. I missed you.”

  “I missed you more.”

  “Liar.”

  “I flew like 1,800 miles just to kiss you—I definitely miss you more.”

  “Just to kiss me, huh?”

  “Well, to kiss you and to see those sexy ankles of yours.”

  I laugh, pressing a kiss to his lips because I can’t help myself.

  “So, Frank,” he says when he pulls away. “Did you, uh, happen to get through all my notes?”

  “I did.”

  “Yeah? Read anything interesting?”

  “I did, actually. I read that you have a thing for fro-yo.”

  “God, I hate that word. Fro-yo sounds so stupid.”

  I continue like he didn’t interrupt me. “You eat oranges when you miss me, and you definitely do fantasize about my ankles.”

  “I warned you before…”

  I grin. “You did, yet I fell for you anyway.”

  “That’s your own fault then.”

  “I’ll gladly accept that fault of mine.”

  “Come across anything else in those notes?”

  “Hmm.” I twist my lips, tilting my head, pretending to think. “Nothing comes to mind.”

  “I’m starting to regret coming home.”

  “Liar,” I say against his neck, nipping at the soft skin.

  “Frank…” He throws his head back on a groan, but I can’t tell if it’s because he’s tired of my teasing or the nip. “You’re killing me.”

  “Sexually? Or because I won’t answer you?”

  “Yes.” The word is pushed out through gritted teeth.

  I laugh. “Okay, fine. But first, I have a request.”

  “Name it. It’s yours.”

  “Dibs on Julian to be my maid of honor.”

  “Done, but I call Thea for best man.”

  “Oh, man. She’s gonna be so annoyed she has to get a date for the wedding.”

  “She’ll get over it.” He shrugs. “Besides, I’m sure she’ll find some poor unlucky victim to take mercy on her.”

  “I guess we’ll see.”

  “Is that your way of saying yes?”

  I purse my lips. “What was the question again?”

  He tightens his grip on my ass, squeezing me hard but not hard enough to hurt. “I’ll drop you right here in the middle of this hallway…” he threatens, loosening his grip enough for me to slip a couple inches.

  I strengthen my hold on him, pulling myself back up his body. “You most certainly will not.”

  “Oh, I will. I’ll do it.”

  “Weird. I will too.”

  His brows scrunch together. “What?”

  I roll my eyes. “I will, Jonas. I’ll marry you. I’ll meet you at the 50-yard line.”

  Slowly, a grin curves his mouth up. “Yeah?”

  “Definitely.”

  “Thank god, Frank.” He drops his forehead against mine, lips hovering right over my own. “Because I’ve been waiting to make you mine for far too long.”

  THANK YOU

  Thank you for reading A SLICE OF LOVE!

  I had so much fun writing Frankie & Jonas, and I hope you loved them as much as I do!

  Looking for more of the SLICE gang?

  Meet Foster & Wren in A PIZZA MY HEART, a brother’s best friend romcom that’s low on the angst and heavy on the laughs.

  Don’t forget to check out Winston & Drew in my SUPER hot, enemies-to-lovers/single mom romcom, I KNEAD YOU TONIGHT.

  In the mood for a sexy single-dad/nanny romcom?

  DOUGHN’T LET ME GO is available now!

  Other titles by Teagan Hunter:

  SLICE SERIES

  A Pizza My Heart

  I Knead You Tonight

  Doughn’t Let Me Go

  A Slice of Love

  Cheesy on the Eyes

  TEXTING SERIES

  Let’s Get Textual

  I Wanna Text You Up

  Can’t Text This

  Text Me Baby One More Time

  INTERCONNECTED STANDALONES

  We Are the Stars

  If You Say So

  HERE’S TO SERIES

  Here’s to Tomorrow

  Here’s to Yesterday

  Here’s to Forever: A Novella

  Here’s to Now

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  About the Author

  TEAGAN HUNTER is a Missouri-raised gal, but currently lives in South Carolina with her Marine veteran husband, where she spends her days begging him for a cat. She survives off coffee, pizza, and sarcasm. When she’s not writing, you can find her binge-watching various TV shows, especially Supernatural and One Tree Hill. She enjoys cold weather, buys more paperbacks than she’ll ever read, and never says no to brownies.

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  Her website:

  http://teaganhunterwrites.com

  Or contact her via email:

  teaganhunterwrites@gmail.com