Page 12 of Summer Breakdown (Training Seasons #2)
“You didn’t like blood,” she replies. Frankie takes a deep breath. Jasmine might be her dream woman, which she realises is insane because she knows, like, three things about her. It doesn’t make it any less true.
“Who did you play for?” Frankie asks.
Jasmine swallows. “It was just a village team. Taunton Ladies.”
Frankie doesn’t recognise the name, but she’ll look them up later in the hopes of seeing Jasmine in rugby shorts.
“What position?” Frankie asks.
“Left wing,” she replies, and Marcel nods. God, she’s so hot. Frankie thinks she’s only being polite because her kids are around. Doesn’t mean Frankie won’t take advantage of it.
“Do you still play?”
Jasmine clenches her jaw. “Not recently.”
“Ma, you should play. You could totally take down Frankie!” Marcel says.
Oh, how Frankie would let her take her down.
Jasmine all but did the night of the quiz.
Frankie wants to be back there. She wants to make better decisions, even if she knows she wouldn’t be able to in the moment.
God, she should have texted Jasmine. If she showed her the drafts she wanted to send but never did, would that be enough?
Jasmine glares at Marcel. “I thought you loved me?”
“I love you, Mama,” Kehlani replies. The entire family is cute, and Frankie wants to be invited around for dinner. Jasmine winks at Lani, and it’s embarrassing how jealous of a child Frankie is.
“You used to do the one-two!” Marcel replies, with a slight movement. “You could take Adebayo down.”
“Have you seen her arms?” Jasmine asks, and Frankie sighs. Jasmine liked the way she looked for real. “This is the second womb-mate betrayal of the day.”
Frankie smiles as Marcel cackles. “Womb-mate?” Frankie interjects.
“Yeah,” Jasmine says with a smile. A smile that drops off her face when she turns to look at her again. “Like a roommate, but from my womb.”
Womb-mate is hilarious, and she’s going to steal it, even though she has no children and isn’t a twin. She’ll use it on Ezra when he’s winding her up.
“Okay, okay,” Marcel says, with a laugh. “You’re still my favourite. Frankie is cool, though.”
“You can practice with me anytime,” Frankie says. “I haven’t played in a while.”
Jasmine smiles, but it’s not at her. It’s quiet for a moment. Frankie should leave, but she doesn’t want to. She wonders why they’re here. Frankie didn’t see them at the last open day .
“We’re hoping Marcel can join,” Jasmine says, pulling her lip as she slowly turns to look at her. Like it pains her. As if looking at Frankie is the last thing she wants to do.
“Oh,” Frankie replies. “Sure!”
He smiles with a blush, the excitement of talking with his mum seemingly disappeared. Teenagers are wild creatures.
“Marcy?” Kehlani asks.
“Yeah?”
“Can we match now?”
He sighs, and Frankie wants to help. Well, she wants to be involved in the conversation, even though she doesn’t deserve to be.
“Azan isn’t here today,” Frankie says. “But he would get the flowers.” Like a loser, she wants Kehlani to like her. “Maybe just on his cheek.” She wants Marcel to like her too, and she’s trying not to feel lame about it.
“Would that work, Kehlani?” Frankie asks.
Jasmine’s neck must snap with the speed in which she glares at her. Frankie wants Jasmine to like her the most.
“Yeah!” Kehlani bounces in her chair. Frankie wishes she could ask Jasmine about it. Now her large house with no stairs that Frankie creeped out of makes perfect sense. “Marcel, please match!”
Marcel rolls his eyes. “This is child abuse,” he grumbles, but Jasmine kisses him on the forehead, and he moves to sit on the stool.
“ Ma ,” he groans, so she does it again, but Frankie sees Marcel’s smile. “Are you going to match us?”
Jasmine turns around. “Sorry, dude, can’t hear you.”
Kehlani and Marcel talk so fast to each other that Frankie isn’t sure they don’t have a secret language.
Well, Kehlani talks and Marcel nods, occasionally adding “yeah” when she stops for breath.
Instead of attempting to figure out what they’re talking about, Frankie concentrates on painting three daisies on Marcel’s cheek.
It’s not the easiest task, because he answers something Kehlani asks him every few seconds.
It’s sweet, though, so she lets it happen.
“Okay. All done, champ.”
“Thanks,” he replies, avoiding the mirror like a pro.
“I’m going to take a photo anyway, Marcy.”
Marcel rolls his eyes but doesn’t tell Kehlani no.
“Wait until Mum has gotten hers done.”
“Yay!”
Jasmine frowns, but it’s playful. “I didn’t say yes.” They both look at her, and Frankie does too, just to match.
Kehlani’s bottom lip pops out, Marcel’s eyebrow raises, and Frankie barely holds in a laugh as Jasmine groans and sits in the chair.
Jasmine sticks her tongue out at them, and Frankie wants to know what she’d have to do to be invited to the zoo with them.
What’s Jasmine’s favourite animal? Who did Jasmine see enough in to have a family with them?
Frankie knows she was young and didn’t necessarily want it to work out this way, but she seems so happy now.
Jasmine tilts her face slightly. Frankie tries not to trace the line of her neck with her gaze. She’s kissed her there before. Frankie wonders if she thinks about it now.
“How do you want it?” Frankie asks.
Jasmine shrugs slightly but doesn’t look at her.
“How Marcel has it is fine. Thanks.” Her arms are crossed over her chest, her bag hanging off her forearm like a weapon.
It’s such a stark difference to the night they were together.
When Jasmine’s hands were against her skin more often than not.
When her lips were against her throat. When she so clearly wanted her.
“Okay,” Frankie replies. She takes her time washing the brushes and trying to get the perfect yellow colour that will complement her skin tone.
Mainly, she’s trying to avoid the fact this is the first time she’s seeing Jasmine properly and she can’t even enjoy it.
Jasmine clearly doesn’t want to be here, and Frankie hates it .
When Frankie looks back at her, Jasmine is smiling a wide, showstopping smile that isn’t directed anywhere near her. She’s watching Kehlani chase after Marcel.
“You’re too slow,” he sing-songs, as he skips across the carpet.
Kehlani is laughing, so Frankie figures it’s fine.
She stops watching them and looks at Jasmine instead.
Frankie wants the reason she’s frustrated to be because Jasmine is pretty.
She wants to be upset that she’s missing out on kissing someone only.
But Frankie knows it’s more than that. She thinks she might miss her.
What she misses, she’s not sure, because she doesn’t know her, but she might miss her anyway.
“Sorry,” Jasmine says, looking up at her once, then twisting again. “I’m ready.”
“That’s okay. It’s nice seeing someone enjoy their children.”
Jasmine hums. Frankie pushes it because she’s selfish and she can.
“Do they always get on?” She swirls the paintbrush until yellow foam appears, then wipes it off because that’s too much paint.
“Yes.”
Frankie starts painting, leaning closer, and Jasmine hugs herself more.
“Has Kehlani always been in a wheelchair?”
“Yes.”
A flower appears on her cheek, and it suits her.
Frankie thought she was hot—the hottest woman she’s ever seen—and it’s still true, but she’s also sweet.
She’s flowers and hearts and light wrapped up in an insatiable body and a wicked tongue.
She can tell it purely on her children alone.
Jasmine’s hair blows with the passing of the fan, getting caught in the wet paint on her cheek.
Frankie touches her lightly, pulling the hair away, but she catches Jasmine’s jaw tense all the same.
“Do— ”
Jasmine sighs. “Frankie.”
Frankie swallows. “Yeah?”
“What are you doing?”
“Painting your face.” Jasmine looks at her, takes a deep breath, then spins again. Frankie is done. She’s got no flowers left.
“I’m done.”
Jasmine rolls her neck and then looks through her purse. She hands Frankie a twenty between her fingertips, like she didn’t take four minutes to paint some flowers. Like she’s the staff or something. She is the staff, but that’s not the point.
“Jasmine.”
“Yeah?” she replies, but she’s not looking at her. She’s not looking at anything, and she’s not good at pretending she is. Maybe she’s not trying to hide her hatred from her. Perhaps she wants it out in the open.
How do I get you to like me again?
“Can…” Frankie starts, then she can’t think of anything to ask her. She wants to know so much, but she has no idea where to start.
How are you? Have you been out with anyone since me? I miss you.
Look at me.
“Do you want to go to the quiz?” It’s all she has, and as Jasmine huffs out a laugh, she knows it’s not enough. She crumples the note in her palm.
“Do you think I have a humiliation kink?” Jasmine asks, her ridiculously pretty face staring right at her.
Frankie can’t figure out if it’s a rhetorical question or not.
Probably. Every time she’s spoken to her today has been with barely concealed disdain.
Frankie wants to reply anyway, if only so she doesn’t walk away.
Frankie swallows, then remembers who she is and that an attractive woman talking about any kinks is not going to render her speechless, let alone a devilishly good-looking woman that gave her the best orgasm of her life .
“You can tell me about your kinks if you want.”
Jasmine frowns, then waits a second, as if she’s expecting Frankie to be able to say anything to her when she looks so disappointed by her very existence.
“Bye, Frank.”