Playing for the Other Team (10 page)

“Oh,” I said stupidly.

“Yeah, well, I got over it.”

There was a harshness to his voice that made me flinch. He sounded like he was spitting out something with a very bitter taste.

“I wish I had figured all this out back then.” I sighed regretfully. “We could have…had something good, I think.”

“Maybe,” Jasper shrugged. “Maybe not. Doesn’t make sense to worry about it now.”

“Yeah, okay. Guess not.” I leaned back and stared at the sky-slash-ceiling again because it had a lovely soothing effect on me, and I could really have used some soothing at that point.

But then I remembered our first kiss, the blissful look on Jasper’s face, his reaction.

You made me wait four years for this.

Call me crazy, but that did not sound like he’d gotten over me.

I hoped.

There was a sigh, and then Jasper was lying on the floor next to me. He tucked his hands behind his head, getting comfortable. We both stared at the ceiling.

“Well,” I said after several minutes. “I don’t know about you, but this is
exactly
how I pictured us spending the afternoon.

He made a sound of amusement. His warm fingers grasped mine and squeezed gently before he turned his head to look at me.

“I’m sorry, Bry,” he said. “I’m not being a very good friend. You outed yourself by accident today, and I’m freaking out about my own issues.”

“My idiocy isn’t your problem,” I pointed out.

“If we’re friends, sure it is.” He managed a grin. “So, sunshine. What do you think is the chance of Nova running and telling everyone she knows that you play with balls?”

“Like, a hundred and ten percent?” I tried.

“I hate to point out the obvious, but that’s mathematically impossible.”

“Yeah, but people say it all the time.”

“People are stupid. Anyway.” He ran a hand through his thick hair and blew out a breath. “So you’re fucked, more than likely. Good news is that the year’s almost over, so you don’t have to worry so much about idiots trying to mess with you at school. Other good news, you have me on your side. Your sister too.”

“My mom, not so much,” I mumbled.

“She’ll get there,” he assured me yet again. “You should try to talk to her again tonight. And then…that monkey troll you call friend. What’s his name again?”

“Trip. He thinks I’m in lust with Rayna.”

“Oh, boy.” Jasper pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m not even gonna ask. But here’s the thing—Trip will find out one way or another. You got a better chance of making him understand if you’re the one to tell him.”

I mulled that over. “Theoretically, it makes sense, but practically…” I shuddered.

“Practically, the thought of telling Trip makes you want to eat a bucketful of rusty nails?” Jasper suggested.

“Something like that, yeah.” I didn’t even want to begin to imagine Trip’s reaction. Open-mindedness was not one of his major character traits.

Jasper’s fingers once more tightened around mine. It felt nice, that reassuring squeeze, much like the fact that Jasper accepted me at face value. The only other person ever to do that for me was Brina.

“We’re supposed to room together in college next year,” I informed the ceiling.

“That,” Jasper said, “sounds exactly like my idea of hell.” He rose to a sitting position, lowered one hand to his abdomen, and frowned. “You know, I just realized I’m a terrible host. Are you hungry? Because I’m kinda hungry.”

“I could eat,” I confirmed.

He tapped my leg with his foot and grinned. “Then let’s go eat something.”

It sounded like a great plan until Jasper led me into the kitchen. Missy was there, sitting at the table with her schoolbooks in front of her and her brow furrowed in concentration. She glanced up as we entered, narrowed her eyes at me, and returned her attention to her studies. I still couldn’t shake the feeling that my every move was being scrutinized.

“Do we have leftovers?” Jasper demanded to know, quite loudly.

“No,” Missy responded without looking up. “Mom will start cooking when she gets home.”

“Granola bars?”

“Cupboard next to the fridge.” She didn’t even slow in her writing. I decided at that point that this girl was going to achieve incredible things in life, like become president or an underworld crime boss or something. She just had that kind of air about her—cool as a cucumber and effortlessly terrifying.

“Juice?” Jasper asked, and I interrupted my pondering of Missy’s bright future to give him an enthusiastic nod.

“Yes, please,” Missy stated and turned a page.

Jasper grabbed glasses from a cupboard. They had pictures of different
Duck Tales
characters on them, which I thought was all sorts of cool. We’d never had anything but normal, boring old glasses at home.

He poured three glasses of apple juice, handed me Magica De Spell, and rather appropriately gave Scrooge to Missy. After foraging for a handful of granola bars, he led me back to his room.

“What do your parents do?” I wanted to know, mostly so I could form a better picture of the two people who had managed to spawn someone as unique as Jasper and Missy.

“My mom’s a music teacher.” Jasper stepped past me to push his door shut until there was an audible click. I inched a little closer under the guise of wanting to hear him better. “Dad co-owns a construct—” He turned sharply and crashed right into me. I jerked back, which would have been fine if not for the apple juice. Jasper only spilled a few drops of his when he sidestepped, but I didn’t have a good enough hold on Magica De Spell. As the glass tumbled down, it managed to splash the both of us liberally.

“Shit,” I said. “Fuck. I’m sorry.” I was ridiculously glad the carpet had kept the glass from breaking.

Jasper plucked at his T-shirt, brows furrowed. “If you were trying to get me to strip for you, good work,” he said.

I flushed hotly. “Sorry.”

That was when he grinned up at me, and I realized he wasn’t actually upset. With one fluid motion, he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it into a corner. My next breath turned into a hiccup. I cleared my throat to gloss over it.

“I’ll throw them both in the wash if you want. I can give it back to you clean.” Jasper had opened his closet door and was absently thumbing through what looked like a stack of T-shirts. It was a nice offer, but I was too busy studying the expanse of his back and shoulders to notice. Oh
God
did I want to touch him again.

“Hey.” He grinned broadly and tossed me a shirt. “For you.”

I found it odd he was specifying, since there wasn’t actually anyone else around it could have been meant for, but when I shook out the white fabric and studied it, I understood what he meant.

I play for the other team
, the shirt said.

“Nice.” I took off my wet T-shirt, and suddenly it was Jasper who was distracted and blinking a lot. My face felt warm as soon as I noticed, so I turned away until I was decently dressed again.

“Suits you.” He grinned at me.

When I looked closer, I realized the black shirt he had put on bore a message too.
Can’t even think straight
, it announced in squiggly, rainbow-colored letters.

“You have a lot of these?” I asked.

“Oh yes. Missy loves picking them out, so I frequently get one for my birthday or for Christmas.” His grin broadened. “Last Christmas, Mom got a tad bit hysterical when she saw what I was wearing.”

“Which was what?”

He pulled out another shirt from near the bottom of the stack and unfolded it for me to see.

You suck. I like that in a man.

“Whoa,” I said.

“I love it, but I can’t wear it at school, obviously.” Jasper folded it up again and replaced it on the stack. He shut the closet door and slowly walked toward me, scrutinizing me all the while. “You look good in that.”

I looked down at my chest. “Maybe I should wear this one to school.”

“Or baseball practice. See how many of your teammates actually get it.”

When I looked up again, Jasper was very close to me. While I once again forgot how to breathe, he cupped my cheek and met my eyes with his.

“Hi,” I croaked.

“You know I’ve got your back, right?” he asked softly. “If you decide to do it?”

“To wear that shirt?”

“To come out at school, sunshine.” His thumb traced my cheekbone. His touch felt almost ridiculously good.

“I might have already done that,” I pointed out and closed my eyes.

“Right. Nova.” Jasper sighed. I felt warm breath on my skin.

“Maybe I should preempt her. Wear this tomorrow.”

“Want to borrow some of my rainbow bracelets?”

“Want to make out with me in the hallway?” I asked hopefully.

“Yes,” he said. Then his lips touched mine, very slowly and gently. I shivered, reached out to pull him closer, drew him into the kiss, and deepened it. He went willingly. After several long, enjoyable seconds, I wrapped my arms around him. Jasper made a sound of approval and kept kissing me. Small touches of his lips against mine, a gentle flutter of his tongue, all of it leisurely, languid. He made my head spin.

Eventually he withdrew a little, shifted, and laid his chin on my shoulder as he hugged me tightly.

“Jasper?” I asked after something like another minute of us clinging to each other.

“Hmm?” he sighed.

“Have you noticed that this whole ‘just staying friends’ thing isn’t working very well?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he muttered into my neck.

“You do this with all your friends?”

“Only the ones I’ve had a crush on for four years.”

“Ah, well, I guess that narrows it down a little.”

He made a humming noise into my ear, followed by another small sigh. As he melted into me, I finally realized he was having another one of those strangely vulnerable moments. There was nothing I could do but keep holding him, making sure he knew he could trust me enough to let his guard down.

“Damn,” he said finally, letting me go and taking a purposeful step back. I missed the warmth of his body immediately.

“Damn?” I asked before I could consider the fact that it might be better just to stay silent.

“Yes, damn.” He ran his fingers through my hair. “I wish—”

My pocket rang. We both jerked back like we’d been electrified, before I dropped my hand and fished for my cell phone. Half the time, I forgot I carried the damn thing, because I much preferred to talk in person. My friends knew that, so I didn’t get calls all that often. Usually it was Brina trying to get a hold of me if I was anywhere but home.

“Yeah?” I answered sort of mumbly.

“Bryson?” It was Trip’s voice, which threw me big time. “Dude, what the fuck is going on? Why is your mom talking to my folks, telling them that you’re gay?”

Maybe I should have seen that coming, but I hadn’t. His words blindsided me like an out-of-control semi in a snowstorm.

Chapter Eight

I’m Not The One In Denial

I met Trip in a mall parking lot, where he’d been hanging out with guys from the baseball team after practice. A few of them were still there, goofing around but keeping their distance. Trip, who usually would have been the first one to play-wrestle, instead stood stiffly next to his car, hands in his pockets. His expression was shuttered. Elle sat next to him on the hood of the car, looking uncomfortable.

To give this probably-about-to-be-a confrontation something of an extra-special touch, I was still wearing Jasper’s
I play for the other team
T-shirt.

“Dude,” Trip said when he saw me approaching. Then he was silent, clenching his jaw and simply staring at me.

“Hi,” I said lamely.

“Nice shirt,” Elle called out.

I shrugged and stopped a couple of feet away from them, hooking my thumbs into my pockets and trying to look calm while feeling like I was about to melt down into a gelatinous blob of fear and barely subdued panic.

“It is, isn’t it?” I belatedly responded to Elle’s compliment—had it been a compliment?—and sought Trip’s eyes with my own.

“Dude,” he repeated, shaking his head. “What the fuck is going on?”

“Well,” I started, then paused because I had no idea how to continue. I felt tense. Everything was tense. Everyone
looked
tense. “This was not how I wanted to tell you this,” I managed eventually.

“Tell me what?” he snapped, and that was when I realized he was desperately hoping I wouldn’t say what I was about to say. But I’d already learned the hard way that this was not something I could take back.

“I’m…” I swallowed hard. “Gay. I’m gay.”

The parking lot fell silent, or maybe it only seemed that way because the buzzing in my ear was drowning out all the noise. I felt my heartbeat thrumming all the way down to my fingertips.

“Bullshit,” Trip announced resolutely. He sounded confident, but he’d wrapped his arms around himself like a protective barrier. “What the…how the hell did you get that idea?”

“I—” I started, but he wasn’t finished yet.

“You’re not just gonna turn
gay
. I know you; that isn’t you, man. Maybe you checked out some dude’s ass or something, and okay, fine, that’s a little weird, but it happens, you know? You don’t have to get weird ideas just ’cause your eyes went the wrong way or you got hard in the locker room or whatever.”

“Trip, I didn’t just—”

“Seriously, Bry, you haven’t dated in a while, but that doesn’t mean you have to switch teams or something. The right girl’s out there for you, man.”

Trip was staring at me with wild hope in his eyes. He was taking this a lot harder than I had. At least he hadn’t punched me. Yet.

“Baby, I think he really means it,” Elle said softly as she leaned toward Trip and laid her hand on his shoulder.

“But it doesn’t fucking work that way!” Trip roared. Elle jerked back, surprised, when he rounded on her. “Are you stupid? Bry is
not
a fag!”

“Don’t use that word,” she snapped.

“I’ll use whatever word I goddamn want. What is wrong with you?”

“What is wrong with
you
?” she fired back. “You’re seriously gonna talk about him like that?”