Page 52 of Summer Breakdown
Frankie smiles, taking the top back off her. “Lift up.” Jasmine does, and it’s not until Frankie’s knuckles graze against her ribcage, that she thinks this might be a step too far.
“Uh,” she starts as Jasmine’s bra comes into view. It’s not the fancy ones she’s been picturing her in. Frankie knows what she looks like under her clothes. She’s almost salivating—God, she’s no better than a man.
“Do you want me to get Mali?” Frankie asks.
Jasmine blinks, frowns, then she shakes her head. Frankie raises her eyes to the ceiling and Jasmine lifts her arms all the way up. Frankie steps closer to be able to get the top off her arms because Jasmine is taller than her. That’s the only reason they’re nose to nose when Jasmine’s arms fall back down.
Frankie breathes her in. She always smells so good. Frankie wonders what would have happened had she stayed that night. Had she texted her immediately. Had she done anything Jasmine clearly wanted her to do. Would they be friends? Would she kiss her now?
“Uhm, here,” Frankie says, taking a large step back to grab the top from her desk. She doesn’t linger on Jasmine even if it kills her not too. The curve of her hips and the soft skin of her waist. Frankie doesn’t need to look right now to have the image painted in her mind, but God, does she want too.
“Thanks.”
“Anytime.”
“And thanks for letting us use the field.” Jasmine’s voice is shyer than usual.
Frankie nods. “I think you might be better than the lads at the moment.”
Jasmine finally pulls the top all the way down, though it’s the smallest bit too short. Her stomach is still out. God, she’s like a siren. Frankie would follow her into the deep if she asked her too.
“It’s not going well?” Jasmine pulls her hair out of her collar and then looks over at Frankie. She’s so pretty it’sstupid. Jasmine looks at her all over and Frankie tries not to follow her eyes. Maybe she needs to readjust her top or something.
“You look nice,” Jasmine says when Frankie doesn’t answer her question. God, how is she so kind all the time? Frankie hasn’t managed to get her out of her mind since, let alone work up the courage to talk to her. And here Jasmine is, not whacking her in the larynx the moment she saw her.
Frankie frowns, looking down at her shorts and trainers. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” she replies. She smiles slightly, and then goes to leave and Frankie panics. There’s no part of her that thinks Jasmine wants to talk to her, but Frankie wants her to know that she wants to talk to her the most.
“It’s not going well,” Frankie says quickly. “Uhm, training and the team I mean.”
“How come?” Jasmine asks. She perches her bum on the edge of the cabinets. She’s a little shorter than Frankie now.
Frankie sighs. “I don’t know. We were so good last season. We were so good at the start of this season. But now we’re almost halfway and we’re in third. I can’t tell if it’s the nerves of getting to the championship, or complacency because everyone thinks that it’s a sure thing.”
“Frank, you’re a game down,” Jasmine says, her head tilted. “If you win today, you’re in second. You’ve only lost two games. That’s not bad, the other teams just got a little lucky. They’re both been in this league longer than you.” Frankie wonders if Jasmine looked her up again. Maybe that’s how she knows about the women’s team and the rest of the teams. Maybe Marcel told her.
Frankie chews on her lip. Jasmine is right. “Do you think we could do it?”
Jasmine shrugs. “I think you could do anything.”
There’s a lightness to her chest when Jasmine answers with ease.
“Do you want me to listen, or do you want me to say something?” Jasmine asks.
“Say something.”
“Not progressing to the championship this year is not losing. Coming in third, fourth, fifth, in an entirely new league with better teams than you’ve ever played, in your third year as a team, is not losing.”
Frankie sighs. “I know.”
“There’s a ton of pressure on you. More so than there would be if you were a mediocre white man, but you’re not. You’re Frankie Adebayo.”
Frankie hums with a smile. “Frankie Bolanile Olúwa Adebayo.”
Jasmine smiles brightly. “You’re Frankie Bolanile Olúwa Adebayo. You thrive under a little pressure.”
“You think?”
