Page 40 of Summer Breakdown (Training Seasons #2)

Frankie rests her forehead against her desk. She’s tired. Her phone has been ringing all afternoon, and she can’t bring herself to pick it up because it will be another reporter. Ezra is the brightest light in her life, so fuck knows why they think she’ll condemn him for being the best.

Periodically she’ll check her phone to see if Kai responded to her. She wants to know what woman he was talking about. If she would want to be on the team Frankie definitely isn’t starting until Titans make the premiership…

There’s a knock at the door to her office, and she groans.

Could they have breached the doors like a pack of zombies?

Frankie always wondered why people have such a will to live in a zombie apocalypse.

Even if they survive, spending the rest of your life in a wasteland?

Hard pass. She’ll let the zombies take her before she steps out of this chair.

“Come in.”

“Hey,” Jasmine says, and Frankie blinks wildly. Prettiest zombie of all time. How is she here? It’s not Wednesday; Mike doesn’t have the kids.

“Hey,” she replies. “What are you doing here?”

She leans against the doorway to her office. “You okay?”

Frankie frowns, rolling her shoulders. “Yeah.”

Jasmine raises her eyebrows, and Frankie groans. “I’ve been waiting to regret it, but I don’t. Maybe tomorrow when the papers come out. I dunno. ”

“Last week, they ran a front-page story about a bigfoot sighting. I wouldn’t care what they think.”

Frankie laughs, and she feels better for it.

If Jasmine doesn’t have the kids tonight, she might want to come over.

Frankie tries to remember if her place is clean.

She hates it there, though. Jasmine has asked her to spend the night at her place for the past few nights, and Frankie wants to stay again.

Maybe—if she was honest—she might want to stay forever.

“Why aren’t you at home?” Jasmine asks.

Frankie sighs. “When did you move out of your parents’ place?”

Jasmine’s eyes widen, and she chews on her cheek. “Er, when I was seventeen.”

“Jeez. With Marc? You’re, like, superwoman or something,” Frankie replies. “Were you lonely?”

“I lived with Mike.”

“Oh.” Jealousy roars in Frankie’s chest, and it’s stupid because Jasmine didn’t even like Mike. She was miserable, and Frankie never wanted her to be that. She just wants to be the one that has lived with her.

“But yes, I was lonely.” God, she hates that man so badly. She never wants Jasmine to be lonely.

Frankie frowns. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. It was ages ago. I wasn’t lonely once Marcel figured out how to talk. Are you?”

“I think so,” she replies. “I only just moved out, and I wasn’t expecting it. I knew living alone meant, you know, being alone. I just don’t think I knew how many hours of the day that is.”

“Is that why you’re still here?” Jasmine asks.

“Yeah,” Frankie replies, with a huff. This is probably the most honest she’s been with someone aside from her therapist in a while. She talks to Ezra, but only if she has to, not because she wants to. They’ve had enough deep talks to last her a lifetime .

“If I’m at work, it’s alright. Everyone gets bored at work. Being in the office when everyone else is home makes sense when you feel lonely. No one else is supposed to be here anyway. I dunno. At home, it’s like someone could be there, but they aren’t.”

“Do you ask anyone to be?” Jasmine asks.

Frankie screws up her nose. “I’m not particularly good at that. I don’t know how to ask for things. I’ve been working up the courage to ask you to come over ever since you knocked on the door.”

Jasmine smiles brightly. She has a Regina Hall kind of smile, and Frankie’s not sure how she’s supposed to keep any thought in her mind when she looks directly at her.

“I have the kids.”

Frankie looks past her. “Why hasn’t Lani said hi?” It’s a little embarrassing how sad she is about it. Lani is a four-year-old child, but she likes Frankie. Marcel might wave, but she wouldn’t be shocked if he didn’t come into her office.

Jasmine laughs lightly. “She’s at home. Marcel is watching her for an hour.” Jasmine hates asking Marcel to watch Lani, even if everyone in the world knows he would never mind. She must be going somewhere important. Frankie tries not to frown.

“Oh,” Frankie replies. Her heart sinks, even if she threw it a buoyancy aid. “Where are you going?”

“Here. I thought you might still be here, and that if I texted you to come over, you’d overthink it because you came over last night.”

Frankie groans, reverting to the place she was before Jasmine got here. With her forehead on the table, she mutters, “I love how well you know me, but it makes me sound like a loser.”

Jasmine giggles, a sound that makes Frankie look at her again. “You’re not a loser. I’m just obsessed with you. You know my whole personality is making sure you’re okay, right?”

Frankie blinks wildly. She wants Jasmine to come closer, or for there to be any reason for her to stand up other than she wants to hug her.

“Do you want something now?” Jasmine asks.

Frankie takes a deep breath. “Like what?”

Jasmine shrugs and walks into the office. She closes the door. “Company. Someone to say you made the right call earlier.”

Frankie looks up at her with her teeth clamped on her bottom lip. “You think?”

“I do,” Jasmine replies. She perches on the edge of Frankie’s desk. They don’t touch, but Frankie shuffles back on her chair to see her better. “I wasn’t lying when I said I would do what you said.”

Frankie smiles. “Thank you, and sorry for putting you on the spot earlier.”

“I don’t mind being called the smartest person you know.”

Frankie laughs. “You are. The maths stuff is so fucking crazy.” Frankie stands up, stretching her hands above her head, and Jasmine’s gaze slips down her body.

Frankie is embarrassingly hot for her in seconds.

It was barely even suggestive, and Frankie is thinking about dropping to the floor and crawling under her dress.

Jasmine frowns. “What maths stuff?”

“Like, what’s three thousand, eight hundred and twenty-nine times two thousand, three hundred and seventy-four?”

“Nine million, ninety thousand and forty-six,” Jasmine says moments later. Frankie almost comes.

“So hot. I have nothing in my mind that would be able to figure out if you were right. I just know you are.”

In a minute, she’ll hug Jasmine. It shouldn’t be a surprise. She’s hugged Jasmine before. They kissed this morning—a quick, have-a-nice-day kiss that happened just because it did. There was no long lead-in, no lingering glances. They just kissed like girlfriends might kiss.

“Do you want a hug?” Jasmine asks, and Frankie’s arms are around her before she can finish her sentence.

“This really is just a hug for me,” Jasmine whispers, and Frankie laughs, sucking in her stomach so Jasmine can slide her arms out. Jasmine runs her fingers up her spine until she relaxes against her. Jasmine hums as she does, and Frankie tries to ignore the fire in her belly.

“Thank you,” Frankie mumbles.

“You did good, my girl,” she whispers. Frankie’s jaw clenches, and her hands fall to Jasmine’s hips.

They haven’t had sex since the first night.

Most nights, Jasmine kisses her until Frankie is panting and a wet mess, and then she pushes her away.

Sometimes, she lets her cum quietly. It’s what Frankie asked for—what she needed—but God, she’s going insane.

“So good,” Jasmine mutters. Frankie twists her neck until Jasmine’s lips press against it.

“Jasmine.”

She kisses her lightly. So lightly that Frankie could reasonably pull away if she needed to. They could pretend it was nothing. But Frankie trusts Jasmine. She’s not worried about needing to stop being an issue. Jasmine would stop, kiss her, and then take her home for dinner.

When Jasmine sucks at her neck, Frankie’s hands tighten against her hips, and she gasps when Jasmine repeats the action. Her lips move along Frankie’s jaw until finally, her mouth is against hers. She slides her hand underneath Jasmine’s thigh, pulling her flush against her body.

Frankie is always in control, but she lets Jasmine control her.

She wonders if Jasmine would have it the other way.

Frankie is desperate to know if they can carve out a space where they both get what they want.

Jasmine stands up, and Frankie drops her leg, but her lips try and stay against hers.

Jasmine holds Frankie’s waist, twisting until she stands behind her.

Her lips hit her shoulder, and her hands slide until they’re under her top.

“This okay?” Jasmine asks quietly.

“Yes.”

She wastes no time. Jasmine kisses her neck as her hands move further up her top.

Frankie’s stomach tenses with every movement of her fingers.

Jasmine bites her neck when Frankie lets a moan slip past her lips, and she’s pretty sure Jasmine will kill her.

Every calculated press of her fingertips is a murder attempt. She could go to jail.

“Hands on me,” Jasmine whispers, as her hands run over Frankie’s breasts. Her clever fingers reach into the cups of her bra and pull down slightly.

“Jasmine,” she whimpers.

Jasmine’s fingers rest against her, but she stops their movements. “Hands, Frankie.” She’s so obsessed with her. The sound of her voice when she’s turned on. The way she takes charge but keeps asking her if she’s okay. God, Frankie missed this, and she didn’t even realise how much.

Frankie places one hand with a heavy grip on the back of Jasmine’s head, and one against the one under her top.