Page 90 of Summer Breakdown
“You don’t know.”
“Sweetheart, if you think I don’t know when you’re looking at me, you’re as wrong as you are pretty.”
Jasmine rolls her eyes and then looks at the cover. It shows Frankie sitting next to Zach on the seats at the Titans’ grounds. Zach looks great. Frankie looks incredible, like she always does. There’s nothing about her appearance Jasmine doesn’t see every day, but she’s confident and happy. Herelbow rests against Zach’s shoulder, and his elbows rest on his knees. They’re smiling like Frankie told a joke as the photographer took a photo.
The entire magazine is their Pride issue, but it’s only Frankie and Zach that landed the cover. The first openly bisexual male rugby player, and the coach who gave him the space to be himself.
Titans: First Never Follows
“God, you’re so hot,” Jasmine says. She holds the magazine closer to her face. Of course Frankie’s fucking arms are out. “I don’t think they should run it. I’ll be fighting people off left and right at Carl’s.” They rarely go now. Sometimes they do the quiz anyway, at Jasmine’s or Mali’s, but Jasmine is content to lie in the garden with Frankie and Lani. Sometimes Marcel graces them with his presence.
Frankie laughs, pulling her into a hug.
“I’m serious,” Jasmine says, but she winds her arms around her neck. “I’m going to have to teach Lani how to fight.”
“You’re my favourite thing in the world.”
Jasmine kisses her. “Do you like it?”Because I love so many things about you.
Frankie hums. “Yeah. I think it’s cute.” It’s the best thing Jasmine has ever heard. Sometimes, she catches Frankie looking at herself and she doesn’t look mad. She’s not looking because she has to; she’s looking because she wants to. There’s nowhere in their house that’s safe from Lani and her camera anyway.
“It’s so cute, oh my God. I might have to switch my picture out.”
“What picture?” Frankie asks, and Jasmine lowers one of her hands. The other stays over Frankie’s shoulders, her fingertips lightly against her neck. She opens her locket. Marcel, Lani… and Frankie.
“I made it,” she whispers.
Frankie’s thumb rubs against the necklace, then her hand drops back to Jasmine’s hips. “When did you take that?”
“Lan took it,” she replies, “so don’t be alarmed when there’s a photo of you at home and you’ve got no face.”
Frankie smiles, her fingers tapping against Jasmine’s waist. “It’s good, right? We should have done it?”
Jasmine smiles, not only because it’s good, but because Frankie asked her outright. Jasmine doesn’t mind asking her to tell her something. She doesn’t mind initiating conversations. Her heart thumps every time Frankie does it first. She’s comfortable with her. That’s all she ever wanted.
“You’re making history every second,” Jasmine whispers. “What could be bad about that?”
Jasmine’s stomach lurches as Zach gets the ball. The crowd screams. It’s good at their end, but not on the other. Whenever Zach gets the ball, they shout something that makes Jasmine glad Lani and Marcel couldn’t make it.
Frankie was prepared for backlash from the article. She spoke about it in the bathroom last night while Jasmine took a bath. Frankie didn’t want to get in, but she sat on the tiles talking to her anyway. She wasn’t expecting it so close to home. They were anticipating some shitty newspaper headlines and maybe a dirty look. Not being abused on the field.
They’ve been on the pitch for sixteen minutes, and Frankie has walked to the other team’s side about twelve times, her hands waving manically. Jasmine’s waiting for someone to do something. Not a single player or supporter has been kicked out.
Jasmine is furious. It’s Frankie’s field. It’s her team. This is her home. It’s Zach’s. It belongs to them.
Mali squeezes her hand, and then Frankie blows her whistle three times. Jasmine squints like she’ll be able to see what Frankie is saying. Ezra spins to look at her with a sweaty frown, and she waves him over. They walk off the pitch, and Mali pushes her until they’re running down the stairs. Mali heads for the changing room, and Jasmine wants to go with her, but she’s not sure.
Jasmine swallows and walks in anyway, but she hides in the corner. The door swings closed behind her, the hushed whispers from the players immediately coming to a stop. Jasmine’s not sure there was an active conversation, because Frankie is pacing, not saying anything. Her fingers tap against each other.
Mali runs, heading straight towards Zach. Jasmine watches with an eagle eye. Zach seems unfazed, but his arms wrap around her quickly. That’s a standard reaction from him, to be fair. Just because Zach could deal with it without having a breakdown doesn’t mean he deserves to.
Jasmine knows Frankie. The things she figured out herself, and the things Frankie tells her because she wants her to know. The things that cycle viciously around her mind. Asimportant as this is, she’ll think she’s made the wrong call. If the Titans forfeit, at best, they get nothing; at worst, they dock them points. For Frankie? The best is she needs to go to sleep early; the worst is she has a breakdown.
There is a tense few seconds, and then,
“Frank,” Kai starts.
“No,” Frankie says. “I told that useless coach to get his fans under wraps, and he didn’t. I don’t even think they tried. We’re not playing like that. No fucking way.”
