Playing for the Other Team (5 page)

“Yes. I promise I will.” He ran his fingers through my hair once more, which I thought wasn’t fair of him, since he had just established some very clear boundaries. I reached out for him in return and sank my hand into his thick brown strands. Suddenly there was a picture before my inner eye, of holding on to him like this while Jasper knelt in front of me, looking up at me as he—

I barely suppressed a moan of longing, then loosened my grip hastily.

Not what I need to think about right now.

Jasper seemed to have noticed the tension as well. He pulled back his hand and cleared his throat, avoiding my eyes.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “But trust me, it’s for the best. I’ve never even been with anyone that wasn’t out yet, and—”

“Well, I
am
out now,” I protested.

His eyebrows shot up. I suddenly got the distinct impression that he was trying not to laugh at me.

“You’re not out. You’re
starting
to come out, sunshine. It’s a long process and not one you should rush. And it’s definitely not something you should do for my sake. You have to do that for yourself and at your own pace, you understand?” He gripped my arm hard. Somewhere in the middle of that short speech, he had turned dead serious.

“Yeah,” I muttered reluctantly.

“Good.” He relaxed his grip and brushed his thumb in silent apology over the spots he had bruised. “You owe that to yourself, Bry. Don’t do anything you’ll regret down the line.”

Thanks, Mom.

I swallowed the bitterness along with the sharp words at the tip of my tongue. No doubt Jasper was right. But that didn’t change my feelings for him, and it sure didn’t help that his advice sounded like a lecture to my ears. It pissed me off that I was upset about this and he apparently wasn’t nearly as bothered.

“I won’t,” I assured him halfheartedly.

The silence that followed made it only too clear that our moods had changed for the worse. I was too busy brooding to say anything more. Part of me wished that Jasper hadn’t kissed me at all. Now I knew what I was missing.

Eventually, he sighed heavily and reached out, tousling my hair. “You should go have some fun out there,” he said. “We both should. It’s a good distraction.”

“You’re gonna go back to cuddling with Rayna?” I asked darkly.

It was dark enough that I couldn’t be sure, but I had a sneaking suspicion that he’d just rolled his eyes at me.

“She has a vagina, sunshine, in case you somehow missed that detail. No need to be jealous. But I’m not apologizing for who I’m friends with.”

I knew I was being unfair. Problem was, I couldn’t bring myself to apologize either.

“You’re right.” I sat up slowly. “I should have some fun out there.”

He gave me a worried glance but then just nodded. “Yeah. We’ll talk, okay?”

“Sure.” I slid down the stack of mats with little elegance. The lump in my throat swelled up as soon as I had my back to Jasper. The whole issue of
holy shit, I’m actually gay
had been difficult enough to face. Still was. Add a generous helping of rejection, and you’re looking at one really shitty prom night.

Right there and then, I decided that getting drunk was the perfect response to it all.

The rest of the night passed me by in a blurry haze of images and sensations. I found Trip, apologized profusely for my prolonged absence, and made it up to him by slamming drinks disguised as parent-approved punch while we luxuriated in the hot tub.

I was not much of a drinker. My throat burned soon enough, but I kept going despite being perfectly aware I would regret the hell out of it in the morning. The hot water made me feel dazed and sluggish, and soon I wasn’t aware of much of anything anymore.

A few impressions made it through to my conscious mind. Fletcher, jumping into the hot water next to me while still wearing his tux. Trip, stripping naked on a dare and sprinting round the entire pool. Elle’s never-ending giggles. An alcohol-soaked Nova straddling me with her long legs, sliding her hands beneath my swim trunks, coaxing me out of the tub.

I clung to long blonde hair in my lap and wished the strands were short and chocolate brown. My head spent its last remaining rational thoughts on fueling my fear of yelling the wrong name. I bit my lip bloody trying to make myself stay silent, hating Jasper and Nova and myself all at once and channeling the anger into overly aggressive thrusts into a warm mouth. When I climaxed, the remainder of my strength and my will drained from me, leaving me with nothing but an unhealthy dose of self-loathing.

Chapter Four

Getting to Know My Elephant

I skipped lunch and fifth period on Monday so Trip and I could go grab fast food together. He couldn’t have convinced me if I hadn’t owed him—I’d been focused on academics all year, and attendance was a big part of that, even with graduation right around the corner.

Especially
with graduation right around the corner. My grades were not yet set in stone.

But I shoved aside my GPA worries and wolfed down a burger, and somehow it felt okay. After everything I’d been through that weekend, my conscience was apparently cutting me some slack. Besides, there was the fact that it had been Trip who had gotten my stumbling-drunk ass to bed at around three in the morning, had made sure I had painkillers and water, and had even remembered to grab my tux before leaving the dance. Eating a burger seemed like the least I could do for him.

Opposite me, Trip squinted at me as he chewed, and I couldn’t help but wonder whether we were about to have some sort of
talk.

“So,” he eventually said in between bites, “I think I puzzled it out.”

I captured my straw with my lips and took a sip of Pepsi while mentally preparing myself. “Huh?” I said.

“Why you were being all weird at prom,” he elaborated. “And why you were cozying up to the emo douche.”

My stomach muscles clenched tightly. I wanted to take a deep breath but couldn’t. I had spent the time between prom and now being hungover as hell and trying my hardest to ignore the proverbial elephant that wasn’t just in the room but joyfully trampling all over my life. Logically, I’d known I would have to face it eventually, but I had hoped for a little more recovery time.

“His name’s Jasper,” I managed to say. My voice sounded pressed to my own ears.

“Whatever.” Trip waved his hand exaggeratedly. “Anyway, you should have told me. I wouldn’t have tried so hard to hook you up with Nova.”

“Yeah?” My mouth was so freaking dry. I gulped down more Pepsi, waiting.

“Rayna Cunningham.”

Trip’s triumphant grin bordered on obscene. I stared at him. My mental elephant stopped trampling and looked confused.

“Uh.” I tried to figure out what sort of face to make. “Rayna Cunningham?”

“Stop pretending. You want her.” Trip pointed his straw at me, splashing soda. “I didn’t get it until Alessa told me she was the emo douche’s fag hag. Then it all fell into place.”

“Oh.” I haphazardly wiped my hair away from my sweaty forehead. What the hell was I supposed to say to that?
Congratulations, you’re totally off the mark?

“No worries, dude. I’m not gonna say anything. I’m questioning your taste, but whatever. As long as you’re not gonna marry her, you can fuck her stupid for all I care.”

I stared into my drink. The elephant wandered off, feeling neglected.

“Uh,” I said again. “Thanks?”

“Yeah, no problem. You gonna need help getting in her pants? Your pick-up skills are rusty.”

Damn. Just when I thought the worst was over, Trip outdid himself with the tasteless commentary. I tried my best not to think about it. “I’ll let you know,” I said tightly.

“’Kay.” Trip dug in his pocket and took out his phone. Apparently, that was the end of the conversation as far as he was concerned. My mind, however, couldn’t put the topic to rest just yet.

It occurred to me that this would have been a great opportunity to tell Trip the truth. Yet I hadn’t even come close. Hadn’t even really considered it. Jasper had nailed it when he had told me so bluntly that no way in hell was I “out.”

Dude, I’m gonna be honest with you. It’s not Rayna Cunningham whose pants I want to get into. It’s Jasper Reyes.

I remained silent.

Trip seemed lost in his thoughts on the way back, so we didn’t talk much then either, and when we reached the parking lot, I couldn’t help but feel like a failure. Preoccupied with that cheerful thought, it took me longer than it should have to realize that my next class was art.

Jasper.

He was sitting at our table when I entered the room. I saw dark hair tumbling into his eyes as he leaned forward, focusing on the sketch he had already started, and that was all I could take before I clammed up, blushed hard, and had to turn away.

My heartbeat was amplified to the point where my entire body throbbed with it, and I did my best to breathe deeply and evenly as I collected my things from the supply closet. That close to the end of the semester, we got few directions in this class and were mostly free to do whatever the hell we wanted as long as it was art related. Some people had projects to finish. I didn’t, and I had no plans other than screwing around doodling in my sketchbook. I probably wouldn’t be able to focus on anything else anyway.

Jasper didn’t react when I sat down. He never had before, so I probably shouldn’t have expected him to, but I took it about as well as a slap to the face.

After everyone had settled and Miss Fisher had turned on music for us like she usually did, I was still staring at a blank piece of paper. I had no inspiration. The only urge I felt was to stab the stupid paper repeatedly and aggressively with my pencil. Feeling frustrated, I buried my hands in my hair and clenched them into fists, pulling hard enough to hurt. It gave me an odd sense of relief, so I did it again.

“Are you distracting me on purpose?” Jasper calmly demanded to know.

I scowled at him. “What the hell are you talking about?”

He hadn’t moved his head, and his focus still appeared to be on his drawing. I was about to look away and ignore his remark when I saw his lips curving into a slight smile.

“Your hair,” he said.

“My hair?” I glanced stupidly upward, as though that would allow me to see the top of my head. Then I unclenched my fingers and hastily sorted out the mess I’d made. “What about it?”

“I
told
you,” he muttered above the steady sound of his pencil. “It’s a weakness of mine.”

I had no idea what to say to that, so my only reaction consisted of a pleasant warmth unraveling through my bloodstream. Flustered, I grabbed my pencil and drew a random line on my paper. It didn’t occur to me to keep the conversation going; it wasn’t much of a conversation anyway, and Jasper didn’t seem all that interested in talking. So we sat in silence. I fought to keep my eyes on my paper because I knew that as soon as they strayed to the left, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from watching Jasper, like I had so many times before.

After maybe five minutes of that, Jasper audibly sucked in a breath. “Are you really mad at me, sunshine?”

That was so unexpected, I actually jumped a little. The smiley face I’d been in the process of drawing received a cleft palate as a result, which made me feel awkward. I scratched it out.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Sad more than mad, I think.”

“Really?” He glanced at me, a flash of Caribbean blue. “I heard…afterwards.” He paused in his drawing, the tip of his pencil hovering just above the paper. “I know I upset you, but I didn’t expect you to get trashed out of your mind and play STD roulette with Nova Phillips.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t technically, you know, sleep with her,” I blurted out.

The pencil resumed its movement. “No?”

“No.” Even though I couldn’t quite remember how things had gone down, I was pretty sure I had only had her mouth on me. I was relieved too, mostly for the reason Jasper had just named. Nova did have a reputation, and I probably wouldn’t have been lucid enough to remember a condom.

Still, the memory made me feel filthy more than anything.

Jasper breathed out slowly.

“Bryson,” he said then, and the way he said it turned my limbs to gelatin and sent a shiver up my spine. “I care about you. I really do hope you know that I’m not trying to hurt you.”

His lips remained parted, as though he wanted to say more, but he looked aggravated. Just when I started to think he wouldn’t be able to get it out, he continued. “I know what coming out is like, and it takes time. If you rush it, you end up making bad calls, and trust me, you’ll regret them. Nothing’s worth that. Certainly not me.”

What had remained of my anger melted away like a snowball on a hot roof. “I know.”

I gave up the fight and watched his hand guide the pencil, the movement so sure and elegant. The Hispanic half of Jasper’s heritage expressed itself mostly through the warm tone of his skin that hinted at bronze. His arms, from his wrists upward, were sprinkled with fine dark hairs. I had a similar thing going for me, except my hair was even finer, there was far more of it, and it was nearly white, which made it look kind of stupid. Jasper, for some reason, had me tempted to run my palm up and down his arm over and over again before lacing my fingers with his. I had liked holding his hand. I wished he’d let me do it again, but I knew he wouldn’t.

“How did you come out to your parents?” I asked. I wasn’t entirely sure where the question had come from, but now that I thought about it, it was a pretty good one.

“Ah…well. I was eleven.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.” That small smile was back on his face. “We were at a gymnastics exhibition. It was a family thing—me, Mom, Dad, my sister, my aunt and uncle, all there to cheer on my cousin. I was just starting to really figure out all that stuff about boys being supposed to like girls, and it was going round my head at the time. I sat through the guys’ competition, and then half of the girls’, and then I turned around and told them all very casually, ‘I think I like boys a lot better than girls.’”