Playing for the Other Team (9 page)

“I don’t know,” I replied and realized only then that my voice was thick with barely suppressed tears. I blinked, trying my damnedest to keep them from falling—oh hell, apparently being openly gay went hand in hand with bawling in front of people—but I felt a drop of moisture descending from the corner of my eye and running down the side of my face despite my effort. “No,” I stated the obvious.

Jasper leaned closer, over me. His face was concerned. I looked into his eyes and lost myself in their captivating color, barely registering the rapid quickening of my pulse. I wanted to kiss him so bad. So. Very. Bad.

“Bryson,” he started, but I didn’t want him to talk. I was sure that if he did, I would break and start crying my eyes out for real, so I lifted my hand in an effort to shut him up with trembling fingers.

I don’t know how they lost their course, how they ended up on his cheek instead of his lips. I don’t know why I pulled him toward me. I don’t know why he went so willingly.

The kiss was beyond amazing. Even though it wasn’t our first, it felt like I was tasting him for the first time, like I was only now truly appreciating having him in my arms. Like the first time, he led, but I was bolder and more assertive, meeting his tongue confidently and exploring his mouth as much as he did mine. My hands were buried in his thick hair, clinging to him for dear life as I tried to keep breathing because, holy lord, I didn’t want to have to stop kissing him for such a stupid reason as lack of air.

It took me a moment to figure out the soft moans were coming from my own throat and not his. At first I wasn’t clear on why I was making them, and then my kiss-fogged mind noticed the fact that I had pulled Jasper fully on top of me. The clumsy grind of his hips against mine set my blood on fire. When I thrust back, he moaned as well. He sounded lustful and uninhibited, his lips and hands promising so much.

But then, finally, his mouth left mine. Within a second, I was starved for its warmth.

“Bryson,” he gasped, trying to meet my eyes. I tried, I really did, but I couldn’t focus my dilated pupils.

“No,” I pleaded, trying to tighten my grip on him, but the blurry view of his wet lips was enough for my arms to go weak. “Please don’t stop.”

He shuddered, ducked his head back down, and attacked my throat with lips and tongue and teeth. I discarded the last shred of reality in my awareness so I could focus on him, only him and what he was doing to me. I forgot where I was, why I was here, anything but him and me. He was heavy on me, comfortably so. His hair felt thick and somewhat coarse, different from that of any girl, yet it slipped between my fingers like silk. I stroked his back with one hand and soon dared to slip it under his shirt to feel the smooth skin beneath.

I wanted to kiss him there too, if he let me. I wanted to run my tongue along his spine and feel every single ridge and bump, mark his even skin any way I knew how. When my hand reached his neck, Jasper shuddered again and dug his teeth into my shoulder, hard. The pain of it was shocking and intoxicating, and at the same time I hissed in reaction, I also arched into him. Again we both moaned. The grind of his hips became a more aggressive thrusting motion, sending rhythmic jolts of pleasure racing up my spine.

Then a door banged shut, driving us apart like a flash.

Chapter Seven

Well, This Can’t Be Good

“Jaaasper!” a girl’s voice rang through the apartment.

Jasper sucked in air like he’d spent the last few minutes underwater. I missed his warmth immediately when he scrambled backward to his feet and stomped to the door. He wrenched it open, but only far enough to be able to look into the corridor.

“What, Missy?” he snapped.

“You left all your stuff in the hallway again!”

“I’ll get it in a second!” he growled, slammed the door shut with considerable force, and dropped onto the floor a safe distance from me.

“Oh shit,” he said and roughly combed his fingers through his hair, a gesture that spoke of distress. “That shouldn’t have happened.”

God, it
hurt
to hear that. “Right,” I said, my voice dry. “Because a kiss is the end of the fucking world.”

He reeled back as though I’d slapped him, and I had the sinking feeling that I had just said the wrongest thing possible. Without another word, he stood again and quietly vanished through the door.

Fuck.

I heard the muted voices of Jasper and his sister in what sounded very much like any little disagreement Brina and I had ever had. As I listened to their sound and stared at the light blue ceiling, I contemplated what the hell was happening.

I couldn’t keep my hands off Jasper, that’s what was happening. And since he had made it a condition of our friendship, I’d screwed up. But so had he, damn it.

And I wasn’t sorry in the slightest.

Because I was busy luxuriating in the memory of what it had felt like to kiss Jasper like I meant it, it took me a while to realize the voices had faded. Then there was a knock on the door.

I sat up just in time to meet the eyes of Jasper’s sister. I had never talked to her or anything, but I knew her from sight, having noticed her walking into or out of the school with Jasper on occasion. She was slightly darker-skinned than Jasper, with huge brown eyes and dark brown hair that came all the way to her waist.

“Hi,” she said, leaning against the door frame.

“Hi,” I responded lamely.

“My brother hasn’t had much luck with guys.”

My mouth dropped open at that non-sequitur. “Uh…okay.”

“I’m just saying. He’s dated a couple of real jerks. And I’d like it to be known that the next guy who messes with him is gonna get my foot up his ass.”

I stared, fascinated by this delicate, doll-like creature who was maybe a hundred pounds soaking wet, wore a lime-green tartan skirt with black knee socks and pink sneakers, and was threatening me with all the cold-bloodedness of a professional hitman. Just as I finished the thought, she gave me a sunny smile.

“I just wanted to mention that because I noticed my brother looked kinda upset just now. So I hope we understand each other.”

I finally found my voice again. “
He’s
the one who doesn’t want
me
,” I grumbled.

“Oh yeah?” She narrowed her eyes at me. “Why’s that?”

“Why’s what?”

“Well, you’re his type. So how’d you manage to screw it up?”

This conversation was beginning to feel distinctly surreal. Where the hell was Jasper, and why hadn’t he warned me about his tiny hitman sister? I stood and tried to surreptitiously look over Missy’s shoulder to check the corridor, but apparently I wasn’t very good at surreptitious.

“He went to sit in the stairwell,” she told me pointedly. “He does that when he’s upset. So it’s just you and me, buddy.”

I stared at her. “How old are you?”

“Fifteen. I’m a freshman. Focus.” She stretched out one hand toward my face and snapped her fingers.

“Oh
what
?”

“My brother. What. Are. Your. Intentions?” She punctuated each word with yet another snap.

“I…nothing. I mean, I like him. I mean, he’s the one who…” I threw up my hands. “Fuck, I don’t know, okay?”

“Don’t swear,” she said sternly.

“Sorry,” I muttered. I took a deep breath in an attempt to get it together. “He’s the one you should be asking. I like him, and I’m not trying to fu—”

She cleared her throat.

“Screw him over,” I finished. I was usually much better about not swearing, but at the moment, my mind felt like a soggy sponge. And Missy wasn’t anywhere near done with me.

“So here’s the deal, pal,” she announced as she folded her arms. “You harm one hair on his head, and your life is over. I will find you. You won’t know what hit you. I have ways to—”

“Missy,” Jasper’s voice cut in on her speech. She turned and cocked her head. He put his hands on her shoulders and gently but firmly led her back into the hallway.

“I was only looking out for you,” she said.

“Thanks. Go do your homework.”

“Will you quiz me on my French vocab later?”

“Yeah, I can do that,” Jasper sighed. “Now go.”

“While we go get ice cream?”

“Don’t push it,” he growled, and she tittered as she walked off.

“She’s…um, nice,” I managed.

“She’s channeling Liam Neeson.” Jasper stepped back into his room and calmly closed the door. “Last year, in eighth grade, she had to do this career-assessment thing, and apparently her result was elementary school teacher. She was totally horrified. At supper she announced she was having an early midlife crisis, and the next day she decided that she was going to be a bounty hunter.”

“I can see her pull that off,” I croaked.

“Yeah.” Jasper’s mouth formed a small but fond smile. “She made Mom enroll her in Jiu Jitsu
and
Krav Maga. If she keeps that up, she’s going to be pretty scary one day.”

“She’s already plenty scary.”

Jasper gave a small nod as he leaned with his back against the door. He tilted his face up to stare at the ceiling and sighed deeply.

“I’m sorry,” he said. I knew he wasn’t talking about his sister.

“I am too.” I pulled my lip between my teeth and tried to put my frustration into words. “You said you didn’t want anything to happen between us, and I should respect that, and I didn’t. But it’s just…I guess I don’t really understand. It sucks.”

Jasper sighed again and let his legs collapse, sliding down the door until he was sitting on the floor again. He propped his elbows on his knees and kept his head low.

“I just really don’t think…” He swallowed audibly. “I have this agreement with my parents. That I’m gonna take a break from guys and relationships until college.”

“Why’d you make it?” I asked.

“Because I was a mess after my last boyfriend, and I really needed to get my head sorted out and focus on school.”

“School’s pretty much over,” I pointed out, reluctant to argue about this but not willing to give up without a fight either.

“Yeah, but my head isn’t sorted yet.”

I studied him for a little while. He was keeping his face carefully neutral, but his eyes looked sad. It upset me to see that, and I hoped I wasn’t responsible for it.

“Did you have a bad relationship or something?” I asked carefully. I wasn’t prepared for his derisive snort.

“I’ve never had anything but. I told you I was shit at relationships, remember?”

“Is that why your sister is so, um, protective of you?”

“No, that’s just how Missy is.” Once again that small, fond smile appeared. “Always has been. Even in grade school. I was playing with this guy during recess once, and he pushed me so hard I fell and skinned my knee. Missy was, like, seven at the time, and she and two of her friends followed him around for a month informing everyone how bad he smelled. He didn’t get rid of that rep for years.”

“Your sister is a devious, fearless martial artist with cronies and a vicious protective streak. Got it.” I shuddered. “Um…incidentally, does she take bribes, and what’s her favorite ice cream flavor?”

“Pistachio,” Jasper informed me with a straight face. Then he smiled at me. “Don’t worry, though; she likes you. If she didn’t, she’d have struck preemptively without giving you a fair warning.”

“Comforting.”

“Yeah,” he said and looked down again.

As the silence spread between us, I let my eyes wander over the masterpiece covering Jasper’s walls again and fervently wished I had an easier time understanding him. I was drawn to him so strongly that it felt almost physical sometimes. And the hard part was knowing he liked me too, which made it really, really tough to understand why he insisted on staying purely platonic.

“I really don’t like the idea of going away to college after the summer and never seeing you again and being stuck wondering how things could have been between us,” I admitted.

He pushed his hair back, which made him look so good it was unfair, and took a deep breath. “Fuck,” he said succinctly.

“Trying,” I joked.

He snorted in response. “It isn’t you,” he told me, sounding absentminded as he stared at the spring wall. “It’s got nothing to do with you, Bry. Just my own demons. I haven’t been very stable for a while now, and I just…all I want to do is get through this shit and leave it all behind and start over at college. Blank slate, you know.”

“Gee, that sounds a lot like what I told you during prom,” I remarked wryly.

“I suppose it does, yeah.” He put his head in his hands. “And yes, I remember what I said about it too. I’m a hypocrite, I guess.”

“You told me I was still going to be gay in college.” I studied him. He looked so defeated. “And so will you. But that’s not your issue.”

“Nope,” he agreed readily.

“Tell me?” I asked gently.

“Hell no.” He shuddered as he shook his head. “No, you don’t want to know this shit, okay? You’re just gonna have to trust me on that.”

Maybe I should have, but I didn’t. I changed tactics instead. “How come your sister said I was your type?” I demanded to know. “What’s your type, exactly? And how does she know?”

“Missy and her big mouth,” Jasper grumbled.

“Well?” I scooted a little closer to him across the carpet. He mumbled something unintelligible into his hands.

“Can you enunciate?” I requested.

“Ah, hell.” Jasper threw his hands up and glared at me. “I said my first boyfriend looked kinda like you. And the last one, a little bit, maybe.”

“Ah.” I pondered that. “So your type is…what, lanky baseball players? People with weird hair?”

“My type is you, you idiot.” Jasper’s cheeks reddened, but his expression remained stoic. “My first boyfriend…well, I was trying to get over you at the time. He dyed his hair platinum blond, and that reminded me of yours. I mean, it wasn’t
just
that but…” He shrugged.

My body heated up several degrees as I processed that admission and realized its implications. “So you didn’t just think I was interesting-looking—”

“I was one hundred percent head over heels in puppy love, yeah,” Jasper admitted, sounding pressed. Hearing it caused me to heat up another degree.