Playing for the Other Team (7 page)

I groaned inwardly, feeling suddenly too warm for comfort. His lips were so close, so soft,
so
begging to be kissed, and part of me was tempted to do just that here and now, and to hell with everyone else.

Too bad Jasper wouldn’t appreciate that sort of maneuver very much. I gripped the table hard and tried to pull myself back into the version of reality where kissing Jasper in the middle of class was not the best idea in the world.

He might have noticed my blush, or maybe my desire was written clear as day across my face. Whatever it was that gave me away, it alarmed him. His eyes widened. For a moment, he looked as though
he
was considering pulling me close and bringing our mouths together. Then he shuddered, swallowed—damn his throat for looking so tempting when he did—and backed away.

Like a switch had been flipped, his expression changed to one of annoyance and stayed there.

“Jasper?” I asked, but he ignored me, slamming his sketchbook down onto the table in front of him with more force than strictly necessary. For the rest of the hour, he looked nowhere but down, drawing like his life depended on it.

It didn’t exactly leave me in the best of moods. After the bell rang, I dragged my feet to my next class and then to baseball practice. Out on the field, I tried to pretend that nothing was wrong, but judging by Trip’s face, I wasn’t succeeding. The best course of action, I eventually decided, was to keep my mind as blank as possible, so I threw myself into the conditioning exercises, running until I felt like throwing up and then lobbing balls across the green until my arm was numb.

When we were dismissed for the day, I could see Trip wanting to talk to me, but I knew I wouldn’t have the patience for it, so I threw on my clothes without showering and practically ran out to my car.

Don’t think
, I kept repeating to myself.
Don’t think.

Not about the fact that I was about to come out to my mom. Not about Jasper. Not about anything. Jasper’s behavior still bothered me. Yes, I wanted his help with this whole mess, but I’d be damned if I asked for it. Not after the way he had acted in class today. I did have my pride, and though I still had the piece of paper with his phone number in my pocket, I knew there was no way I’d use it today.

Unless, of course, everything blew up in my face.

* * * *

When I entered the kitchen, the contents of our freezer were spread clear across the table. My mother stood there, a thin, plain presence, frowning at the mess.

“Mom?” I asked.

“Ham,” she muttered and lifted an iced-over glass jar to squint at its contents.

“Sorry, what?”

“Ham. I was going to make ham, but I can’t find it. What happened to it?”

“Um,” I said, a little helplessly. “We had that, like, three weeks ago.”

“Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure, yeah.”

“Oh.” She sighed. “Well, I think this is herb butter.”

“Pesto,” I corrected.

“What can I make with herb butter? Steak is good. Do we have steak? Or…potatoes. How about steak and potatoes tonight? Do you feel like having steak and potatoes tonight?”

There were so many possible answers.
We don’t have any potatoes. We can’t really afford steak until you get paid. It’s not herb butter. Brina already put teriyaki chicken in the crock pot.

I dismissed them all and went with, “I’m gay, Mom.”

When she dropped the pesto jar, it landed hard and sent a chunk of kitchen tile flying my way.

* * * *

I called Jasper that evening, sitting by the open window in my room. Hurt by his behavior or not, I didn’t have a choice in the matter.

“What’s up?” he asked as soon as he realized it was me. He sounded calm and genuinely happy to hear from me. I didn’t have it in me to be irritated by whatever mood swings he was going through.

“I told my mom,” I said.

“How’d it go?”

I swallowed hard. “Not well.”

He was silent for a moment. I waited, my guts still twisted from the conversation I’d just had.

“You want to talk about it?” he asked gently.

“I don’t know.” I sat on my bed and curled up against the headboard. “I guess. She got really upset.”

Jasper winced. “Damn.”

“She took it personally. Said I was out to hurt her, told me to stop lying. And then she slapped me and started crying, told me to go to hell, and stormed out of the house. I don’t know where she went.”

It hurt like hell. I hadn’t expected her to be thrilled, but this…this was harsh. I was pretty sure the numbness I felt indicated I was still in shock. The only thing that felt real and solid was the still-stinging side of my face.

“Fuck,” Jasper said succinctly.

I choked down a sob and pinched myself in order to keep it together. “Yeah.”

“What can I do to help, Bry? To make you feel better?”

Kiss me and make me forget about everything but you
. “I don’t know,” I said out loud.

“Do you just want to talk for a while?”

“Maybe. Yeah.” I tightened my grip on the phone, then tried for a weak joke. “Since you ruled out phone sex.”

His low chuckle, damn him, went straight to my groin. I closed my eyes and tried to will it away. I had enough going on right now.

“Maybe another time.”

His voice came across crisp and clear, and it was easy to imagine him sitting next to me on the bed, his lips by my ear as he talked to me. I pictured his hair falling into his eyes, his chest rising and sinking, his hands smoothing out my sheets.

“Bryson?”

“Hmm?” I had missed whatever Jasper had just said.

“You falling asleep on me?”

“No. I was just…just thinking.”

“About your mom?”

“No.” I paused, then decided to be honest. “I just…I wish I could see you, that’s all.”

“You’ll see me tomorrow.”

“Are you going to give me the cold shoulder again?” It came out somewhat harsh. Apparently I hadn’t yet completely let go of my grudge.

Jasper sighed. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to. It’s…I’m weird. I know.”

“Right,” I said dismissively.

Silence. I still had my eyes closed, was still picturing him, wondering whether he was in his bed too or sitting on the couch or wandering around his home.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” Jasper wanted to know. “After school?”

“Nothing much. Baseball practice, I guess. And I have some moping on my schedule. That’s all.”

“Let’s hang out.”

I felt queasy again, but this time in a more pleasant way. “Okay. I can skip practice. Don’t really feel like going anyway.”

“All right.”

That was all he said, but he sounded pleased, which pleased me too. I managed to relax the tiniest bit. I’d get through classes tomorrow no problem, and then I would spend time with Jasper, and by the time I came home, maybe my mom would have had a chance to process.

* * * *

It didn’t end up going as planned. Actually, what happened was just about as far from my plan for the day as anything had ever been.

Trouble approached in the form of Nova Phillips, cornering me in the hallway when I was about to go to lunch. She was wearing a skirt that definitely wasn’t up to the dress code, and heels that made her legs look about a mile long. Despite the impressive view, I didn’t want to look at her at all.

“Bry, we should hook up again,” she said.

“Uh, what?” I’d been lost in thought, and that was certainly coming out of nowhere.

“You and me. You do owe me one, remember?” She smiled at me and winked. The girl had unshakable confidence, that was for sure. “So I thought, maybe you can take me out sometime this week, and we’ll have a good time. What do you think?”

I think I want to run far, far away.

“That sounds, um…” I rubbed my chin, feeling flustered and irritated all at once. I couldn’t keep this up; I knew I couldn’t. And since she was being so straightforward, that seemed to be the way to go. “Look, I don’t think this is going to happen.”

Her eyebrows rose impressively high. “What?”

“Sorry.” I wasn’t.

“Why not? What’s the problem?”

“You’re not my type” was the first excuse that popped into my mind.

“Your
type
?” She stared at me, tossed her hair back, and stepped too close for comfort. Her lips were pink and glossy, and they made me nervous. Her hand cupped my cheek.

“What’s your type got that I don’t have, Bry?” she murmured.

I felt the words wanting to come out. They were shockingly insistent on it, and I was so damn irritated with her for not backing the hell off, and with Trip for pushing me at her, and I was disturbed by the thought that I’d nearly had sex with her on prom night, and I was still hurt and disappointed and feeling self-destructive. I managed to step back from her and turn my head away before finally and resentfully growling, “A dick.”

Then I hightailed it out of there, but not before I saw her jaw drop and knew she’d heard me perfectly well.

Chapter Six

In Which Jasper Draws Me Naked

“I may have just unintentionally outed myself,” I informed Jasper at the beginning of art class. His eyes widened.

“What did you do?” His question carried a touch of exasperated parent. It might have annoyed me in a different situation, but I was too busy freaking out, and besides, it was kind of adorable.

“Um. Turned down Nova Phillips for sex.” I kept my gaze low.

“That doesn’t necessarily mean—”

“And I told her that…” I hesitated. For some reason, I didn’t want Jasper to know how crude I had been, which made no sense, because he wasn’t exactly a prude. “I sort of accidentally told her that the fact that she’s a girl was the deal-breaker.”

“Oh Jesus, Bry,” Jasper burst out, laughing. “Yeah. You’re probably fucked.”

“Goodie. That’s what I wanted to hear.” I couldn’t appreciate his amusement at all.

“What’s done is done.” He reached out and squeezed my hand before letting go again. “It’ll be all right.”

“You keep saying that.”

“Because you keep doubting it.”

“I don’t know what to do now. I have no idea how to handle this.”

“We’ll talk about it later,” Jasper promised. “When we don’t have an audience.”

The prospect of it cheered me up a little. My mouth was dry, fear continued to tighten my chest, and the events of the previous evening still weighed heavily upon me, but at least I had one little something to look forward to.

When I propped my elbows on the table and prepared to daydream, Jasper gave me a sideways look.

“You should really draw something. Or paint or whatever. Else Miss Fisher is going to lose her patience with you.”

“You think?” I frowned at our teacher, who was currently at the other side of the room talking to some students. “She doesn’t seem too bothered so far.”

“She is; trust me. I’ve spent enough time being pushed by that lady. I know her well enough.”

I frowned. “Pushed?”

He indicated his sketchbook. “I was good in eighth grade, but then I took my first art class with her freshman year, and…she just knows how to make me better. Knew how to bring me down a notch when I got kind of cocky too.” He grinned. “She gets me. It’s nice.”

“So she’s like your mentor?”

“That’s probably not off the mark. But I’m not letting you distract me.” He pointed his pencil at the table in front of me. “Get that adorable ass in gear, sunshine.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

It sounded lame even to my own ears. Jasper rolled his eyes just like I’d expected. “If nothing else, grab a pencil and pick out something in the room to draw.”

I gathered my supplies, but not without another token protest. “I’m really bad at this.”

“Well, you’re not going to get better by whining about it,” Jasper supplied mercilessly.

I glared at him, half-playful. “What if I decide to draw the wall?”

“Go for it.” He had put his own pencil back to his paper. “In fact, spend all hour on it. It’s got so much texture. Little cracks, shadows, bumps, dents, discolorations. Not the easiest of subjects, but if that’s your pick, I won’t stop you.”

“I hate you.”

He just laughed. “You started it.”

I wasn’t quite ready to admit defeat just yet. “I’m going to draw you,” I declared. “In an anthill.”

“Go for it,” he said again, apparently unconcerned.

“Fine.” I took my pencil to the paper, realized I had no idea what an anthill even really looked like, and gave up on the idea. My gaze darted around the room and fixed on the clock above the door. Better than nothing, I supposed, and started with a few thin lines. Soon I found I was actually concentrating on the task, noticing the little details, the shadows, all that stuff Jasper had pointed out as being part of the subject I was looking at. Once I’d started looking past the mundane shape of the clock, it was, surprisingly, kind of fun.

I lost my focus when Jasper leaned over, the tips of his hair tickling the side of my neck as his chin nearly touched my shoulder. I felt myself grow sensitive to his closeness. My skin prickled under his warm breath.

“If that’s supposed to be me in an anthill, you’ve got some perception issues.”

I turned my head, but very carefully, because the movement brought my mouth in rather close proximity to his. He seemed to sense my unease and backed off, but not before I saw the glint in his eyes.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing.”

“
What
?”

“You’re doing a good job. Seriously, keep going.”

I did, but his expression still gave me the sense that he had some sort of evil plan I wasn’t yet aware of. Too often, his eyes flicked up at me. The more I watched him, the more worried I got.

“Jasper?” I asked eventually.

“Hmm?”

“
What
are you drawing?”

His mouth formed an impressively evil grin. “You.”

“Me?”

“Yeah.”

I wasn’t sure whether I should be flattered. Part of me wanted to be, liked the fact that he kept looking at me to do it. But my sense of unease only grew.

“And what’s so funny about that?” I demanded to know.