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Page 20 of Summer Breakdown (Training Seasons #2)

“Andrew’s a knob,” Jasmine says, as Frankie walks her home. Frankie laughs, her face pointed to the ground. If she wants to direct her beauty at the ground, there’s probably a snail who will appreciate it.

“He is.”

Jasmine hums, buying time while she tries to think of anything else to say. The evening was a clusterfuck, but Frankie being there made it better. Jasmine’s not sure what she wouldn’t sit through if it meant Frankie looked at her when she thought Jasmine couldn’t see.

“Thank you,” Jasmine says. “For defending me, and Lani.”

“Of course,” Frankie replies. “Andrew’s not allowed to talk to you like that. Even if you did chew him out and it’s the hottest thing that’s happened in the history of the world.”

Jasmine smiles. “You think?”

“Mm-hmm. You know the other day, Marcel was talking about not having a best friend because he’s a grown up now.” Jasmine laughs. He’ll always be her baby, tiny hairy upper lip or not.

“He said Lani is the person he wants to share something funny with. She’s the first person he’d call to hang out.”

Jasmine doesn’t cry but it’s close. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she says with a small smile. She lets Jasmine see it this time. “That kinda relationship only comes from a mint parent and fuck knows it’s not Mike. ”

Jasmine laughs, letting the words settle into her before she asks.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Frankie replies quickly. “Are you?”

“Are you lying?”

Frankie frowns. “What do you mean?”

“I thought maybe you were stressed before,” Jasmine replies, with a shrug, “but I can’t tell now that we’re walking.”

Frankie’s brow furrows as they pass under a streetlight. Jasmine won’t be shocked if Frankie doesn’t want to tell her. It’s par for the course in their relationship.

“How did you know I was stressed?”

“You tap your feet,” Jasmine replies. “And you chew on your lip, and you draw… things.”

Frankie looks at her, her eyes wide. “Oh.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I didn’t think I was that obvious. I try to keep it to myself. I don’t want to be annoying.”

“You’re not annoying,” Jasmine responds. “Besides, I’m not sure how obvious you are, but I was looking.”

“You were?”

Jasmine shrugs. She’s not flirting; she’s just being friendly. “Maybe.”

Frankie hums. “I’m not stressed right now, because I’m with you, but I was stressed before.” Jasmine’s heart flutters. Frankie hurt her before, but she makes her happier than that. Jasmine doesn’t think she even means to.

Jasmine wants her to tell her. The drawings aren’t enough. Looking at her when she’s not looking isn’t enough.

“You were with me then too,” Jasmine adds.

Frankie groans, rubbing her hand over her face. “Yeah, but it’s just you now. Besides, I don’t have to resist the urge to whack Andrew every three seconds.”

“He really is a tosser.”

Frankie laughs. “Yeah. He asked something because he’s rude, but can I ask because I want to know you?”

“Sure.”

“Did you want it to work out with Mike?”

“No,” Jasmine says easily. She could see why people would be confused. She has two children with him. “I didn’t figure out I was a lesbian until my late teens, and by then I had a toddler.”

“Oh.”

Jasmine hums. “We had sex once at fifteen because I was insecure about being the only Black girl in my class—ever, really; at least where I grew up—and no one had ever looked at me before. Then, along came Marcel.”

“I want to say sorry,” Frankie starts, “because it sounds fucking rough, but it feels weird to apologise for something that created Marcel when he’s so sweet.

” Jasmine smiles brightly. He is sweet. He gets overlooked often because Lani is so energetic.

She demands attention with her cheeks and her loud, cute voice.

Marcel is her baby introvert. She likes that Frankie recognises he’s also the best.

“That’s how I look at it,” Jasmine responds. “It was unreasonably hard. The most terrifying thing I’ve ever done.” She feels Frankie looking at her, and she wishes they were close enough for her to feel Frankie’s fingertips on the back of her hand.

“And then it wasn’t scary anymore. Mike and I were never in love; it wasn’t awful.

It got worse once Lani was born. I didn’t think she would save us, nor did I want us to be saved, but I didn’t want to be a stereotype.

Young, single Black mother, yada yada,” she says, throwing her hands around.

“It’s stupid because I know stereotypes are harmful and untrue, but I’d been fed them my whole life.

Lani wasn’t going to break that, but she brought me an unanticipated amount of joy.

She does every single day. They both do. I don’t regret a single moment of it.”

She looks at Frankie, who doesn’t immediately turn away. “I’m glad. ”

Jasmine smiles, and Frankie looks down, shoving her hands in her pockets. Jasmine wants to know if she’s got the urge to draw again.

“Were you touching me at the quiz because I was stressed?” Frankie asks.

“Yeah,” Jasmine replies. And no, but Frankie doesn’t need to know that. “It’s meant to help—or at least, the books say it helps.”

“On being bipolar?” she asks, her brow furrowed. Like it wasn’t a simple task. “Are you reading them because of me?”

Jasmine chews on her lip. “Yeah… not because I wanted to figure you out. I just… wondered if there was something I could do so you’d want to talk to me.”

Frankie’s face might drop slightly, but they’re walking down her road, and there’s no streetlamp here, so Jasmine can’t be sure.

“I always want to talk to you,” she says quietly. She doesn’t look back up at her.

“What were you stressed about?” Jasmine asks.

Frankie rolls her shoulders back, and Jasmine prepares herself to be disappointed.

“How Andrew was looking at you. How he was talking to you. The fact Cam won’t break up with him even though she doesn’t like him.

I can’t get Kai to do what I want him to do in our next match, my landlord is being a wanker, I need another doctor’s appointment to get my meds even though I’ve been on the same ones for a decade, and … you.”

“Oh.” They come to Jasmine’s front door, and she doesn’t even know how they got past the front gate. It’s like when she listens to an audiobook in the car and somehow makes it through three roundabouts without dying.

Frankie looks nervous, and Jasmine wants to help.

“Well,” Jasmine starts, “why are you stressed about me?”

Frankie sighs. “So many reasons.”

“Any I can help with? ”

Jasmine doesn’t know if Frankie knows she needs help or if she just doesn’t want it.

Perhaps this level of comfort is her base.

Jasmine’s not ridiculous enough to think Frankie hasn’t figured out a way to cope with her illnesses for the entirety of her life.

It’s not like Jasmine has read too many romance books and thinks the warmth of her palm is enough to cure her.

But Frankie is kind and sweet, and someone that Jasmine is letting herself realise she wants to be friends with. She wants to help her, if she can. Frankie might want to be her friend too. They don’t have to kiss. Jasmine can put the one night of sex behind her.

Frankie shakes her head. “Probably.”

Jasmine smiles. It’s almost enough.

“Too many thoughts in that beautiful mind?” Jasmine asks.

Frankie’s eyes are wide, like she’s never thought of herself like that. It’s too big a conversation for Jasmine and her three shots. Instead, she opens her door, and pulls Frankie in.

“Shoes,” she says, when Frankie goes to walk past the porch. Savage.

Frankie’s hand lingers against Jasmine’s waist as she toes her trainers off. Jasmine moves away the moment her shoes come off, because if she lets Frankie touch her in the low light of her kitchen, she’ll kiss her, and she’s not allowed to kiss her. She doesn’t even want to kiss her.

“Are they the daisies I gave you?” Frankie asks, as they walk through the kitchen. She has to know they are.

“Maybe.”

Jasmine grabs a blanket from the front room and calls for Frankie to follow her when she unlocks the back door. Frankie looks confused, but this is the only thing Jasmine can think of to help.

“We can’t kill Andrew,” she says, as she lays the blanket out on the grass. “Cam is stubborn as fuck, and the doctor’s office isn’t open until the morning. ”

“Okay,” Frankie says, with a frown. The stars are blindingly bright tonight. Jasmine wishes she could draw like Frankie. In every universe, she’d draw Frankie.

Jasmine stands in the middle of the blanket. “Okay. So show me the move.”

“What move?”

“The move you want Kai to do.”

Frankie’s eyebrows hit her hairline. Jasmine wonders what she used to look like. She has such a striking face that hair would be wasted on her, but Jasmine wants to see it anyway. To know if she was happy then.

“Frankie,” Jasmine says, when she hasn’t moved. “Teach me.”

In the dark of night, Jasmine has thought about Frankie teaching her other things too. She wants to know how Frankie wants to be loved. What makes her smile. What she needs to do so Frankie wants to kiss her again. How she could get her to spend the night, but only because she wants to.

Frankie huffs out a laugh, moving closer. “I don’t know how.”

“Okay, let’s break it down. Who is the person on—it’s the Groundhogs next, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. So who is the player most like Kai?”

Frankie hums, her lip caught between her teeth. Jasmine should have laid some ground rules. Frankie can’t do anything with her mouth under the moonlight. Frankie can’t flex her forearms under the moonlight. Frankie can’t look at her under the fucking moonlight.

“Hill.”

“Is he taller than Kai?”

“Yeah. Kai’s a short-arse.” Kai is not short. He’s a good foot taller than Frankie, who seems to think she’s not pocket-sized.

Jasmine smiles. “So, you’re clearly Kai in this scenario. ”

Frankie laughs brightly, and Jasmine adds it to her list of rules.

“I’m not short.”

“You’re two apples tall. Take it up with Lani.”

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