Page 8 of Summer Breakdown
Frankie could tell her she takes six pills a day to survive. Her parents say it’s nothing as dramatic as an actual illness, but she’d probably be dead if she didn’t take them. But then Jasmine will look at her, and Frankie’ll tell her how her doctor retired and now her new doctor is an old white man who is making her jump through hoops to prove she’s ill, when she’s been on the same pills for a decade.
Jasmine kisses her cheek, and Frankie blinks up at her. She hadn’t realised they’d stopped walking.
“Get out of your pretty head,” Jasmine whispers.
Frankie lets her go when she pulls back, but she regrets itseconds later.
They start walking, and while Frankie thinks of something to tell her, Jasmine asks, “Do you have any siblings?”
Frankie frowns, wondering if that’s truly what she wants to know. “Ezra.”
“Oh,” Jasmine replies, her head thrown back slightly. Frankie watches as the tips of her hair touch her lower back. Frankie wants to touch her lower back.
“He’s your brother!” It’s possible Frankie got caught in the sparkle in her eye and didn’t introduce her. “I thought he looked familiar! Oh, thank God. I thought he was hot, and for a moment, I was terrified I liked men, but he just looks like you.”
Frankie laughs. She’s just into women. Huh. “Sorry, I don’t think I introduced you to him or Zach.”
“That’s okay,” Jasmine replies, with a shrug. “You were having a down time. I know sometimes it’s easier not to talk.”
Frankie chews on her lip. Jasmine had noticed she was down and didn’t force her out of it. She helped her out of it, and she wants to talk to her still. Frankie wants to give her something.
Frankie takes a deep breath. “Yeah, but I like talking to you. I want you to know that too.”
Jasmine smiles. “You do?”
“I do.”
Jasmine hums, a small smirk on her face. “Tell me something, then.”
“I like pink Starbursts,” Frankie replies quickly. She may have panicked.
Jasmine screws her nose up. She wants to laugh so badly, and Frankie knows it, and she loves that she knows it. Frankie wants to know her too, and she doesn’t care about what sweets she likes. (She will listen if she wants to tell her, and she’ll try to figure out how to get them to her.)
Frankie takes a deep breath. “What something?”
Jasmine shrugs. “Why you go quiet sometimes, or why you take a few seconds to laugh even though I’m hilarious.” Jasmine turns to look at her, but she doesn’t stop talking. How Frankie hates to be perceived but loves someone noticing things about her. She wants Jasmine to notice cute things—like that she puts her left shoe on first, or that she smiles when she hears a Janet Jackson song—not that she’s crazy.
“Or why you keep brushing your fingers against my hand but not committing.”
Well.
Jasmine matches her pace, and before Frankie knows it, they’re no longer moving. Frankie’s body twists on command, and she looks up at Jasmine. Jasmine isn’t much taller than her, but she demands so much attention that Frankie feels minuscule. She’s goddess-like. Her body being illuminated, like a celestial being, by the moonlight and the stray lamppost hidden behind the river embankment aren’t helping. Even with the dark sky, Frankie wonders if she’s being too obvious with the way she looks at her. In her defence, Jasmine is transcendental with her beauty. She must get looked at every time she leaves the house.
Frankie wants to glare at anyone else who looks at her like this. She’s jealous of a bunch of women she’s never met because they saw her first.
Frankie drops her eyes to Jasmine’s mouth for the third time in as many moments, even if she tried desperately to make sure she didn’t.
Jasmine tilts her head. “Do you want to kiss me?”
Frankie groans, looking down at the floor while she smiles. “You have to call me out like that?”
Jasmine’s hand rests against her jaw, tilting Frankie’s face back to hers.
“Why do you do that?”
Frankie frowns, and Jasmine’s lip ticks up. She smothers the smile back down, and it makes Frankie’s chest flip. “What?”
“Look down when you smile.”
