Page 11
9 EMERSON
Standing in front of Jason’s front door, hand curled into a fist and poised to knock, Emerson has a rush of doubt. What the hell is he doing? Emerson doesn’t go to people’s houses to hang out. Not with a handsome, popular football coach. Not with anyone. The last time he’d gone to someone’s house for pizza, he was fifteen, and that had ended with Emerson spending most of the time in the bathroom hiding.
The social unknowns for this kind of situation have always caused more stress than they’re worth, especially once Emerson realized people liked the masked version of him better. He is more than capable of getting along in social settings, of pretending he doesn’t have to overthink every part of a conversation or plan eye contact. He knows how to avoid infodumping at people, even though the urge sometimes claws at him. Being high-masking is exactly why it took him so long to get diagnosed in the first place. You’re lucky you have lower support needs, someone told him once, but all Emerson heard was, your autism doesn’t affect us, so we don’t see it.
Anxiety rises the longer Emerson stands at the front door hesitating to knock. He knows what to expect tonight in abject terms, but he would feel better knowing exactly what he’s walking into. That’s not possible since he’s never met Theo or Alec.
“You can do this,” Emerson mumbles, lifting his hand with every intention of knocking. Before he can, the door is yanked open to reveal Jason, his bulk blocking the inside of the house.
“You came,” Jason grins as if Emerson standing awkwardly on his front porch is the best thing that happened to him all day. It’s actually ridiculous how nice Jason is. Sometimes Emerson swears it must be fake, then he remembers that Jason is the least fake person he’s ever met, and something in him settles.
“You did invite me,” Emerson replies.
“I did.” Jason's smile widens. “I’m really glad you’re here.”
Behind him a dog barks loudly, nearly knocking Jason over when it tries to shove its way between Jason’s legs.
“Calm down, Stella.”
“Stella,” Emerson croaks, experiencing a visceral flashback to the conversation he overheard between Jason and Mabel earlier this week. The woman who took Jason’s towel hadn’t been a woman at all, it’d been his dog. While Emerson has no grounds for feeling relieved, he is. He’s also incredibly embarrassed. Maybe this is his karma for crushing on his straight friend.
“Uh-huh. This attention seeking pain in the ass right here is Stella,” Jason says, widening his legs so she can sneak through. Despite her speed, Jason is quick to grab on to her collar to stop her from charging at Emerson, for which he is very grateful. “She’s a sweetheart. A menace, but also a sweetheart. She doesn’t get to meet new people often, so you’ll have to excuse her piss poor manners. If it’s too much, just say the word, and I’ll put her in the garage.”
“You don’t need to do that,” Emerson mumbles. “This is her house.”
“If she makes you uncomfortable, I do. Besides, it's not like she’s being punished if she goes out there. I installed an AC unit so it never gets too hot, and she has a bed and a lot of toys. She’s spoiled. Her and Freddie both.”
“Where’s Freddie?” Emerson asks, trying to peer around Jason.
“Probably hiding behind the couch. He’s scared of everything.”
“That’s relatable,” Emerson remarks. “I would also hide behind the couch if it was socially acceptable.”
“Well, I’ll do my best to not do anything that makes you want to hide. Unfortunately, I can’t make promises for Stella or Freddie.” Jason’s smile is easy, kind, like Emerson admitting he would rather hide than be here isn’t grounds for ending the friendship here and now. “You can come in, you know. How did you get here by the way? When you told me you didn’t need a ride, I didn’t ask.”
“Uber,” Emerson answers.
“There’s a bus stop on the corner.”
“I know.” Emerson does not want to admit that he looked up directions, then decided the possibility of getting lost was too high and ended up calling an Uber to bring him directly to Jason’s front door. He’s not even sure why he turned down Jason’s offer for a ride. Well, yes he is. Because until the second he stepped out of the Uber, his brain was desperately looking for a way out of this situation, even though he wanted to do it. Sometimes his brain is a jerk like that, trying to get out of things that he wants to do just because they are new and make him uncomfortable.
“Next time you should just let me pick you up,” Jason says, bracketing Stella with his legs and moving them both out of the doorway so Emerson can step inside.
“You should probably wait until the night ends to issue a second invitation.”
“Why would I do that?” Jason questions, like he genuinely can’t imagine.
“I—” Emerson starts, cutting himself off. He’s not your cousin, or your family , he reminds himself. Jason’s not going to get annoyed with Emerson because he’s overwhelmed or different. He’s spent most lunch breaks with Emerson the last two weeks and isn’t sick of him yet.
Yet .
“Would you like to meet Stella?” Jason offers, almost as if sensing Emerson’s need for a distraction. “I’m going to let go of her collar, she’s probably going to lick you but she doesn’t bite. If you need her to stop, let me know.”
Emerson nods, relieved to have something else to focus on. Jason kicks the front door shut before loosening his hold on Stella’s collar. Sure enough, she barrels towards Emerson, who is prepared this time, laughing at the armful of dog he gets. She does lick his hands and his cheek, trying to climb into his lap and knocking him on his ass. Emerson can’t help but grin, charmed by her exuberance. She’s kind of like Jason really, over eager and easy to understand. And he realizes, heart thumping against his ribs, happy to see him.
“Stella, don't scare him away, we want him to come back.”
“I’m not scared,” Emerson assures him, smoothing his hands over Stella’s fur. It’s thick, not as soft as he expected but soothing to touch. The more he pets her the more she calms until she’s sprawled in Emerson’s lap panting happily. “I think she likes me.”
When Jason doesn’t reply he looks up, unprepared for the way Jason is looking at him.
“What?” Emerson asks, suddenly worried he did something wrong.
“How did you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Calm her down,” Jason gapes.
“Uh, she likes her tummy rubbed.” To prove his point, he strokes Stella’s tummy, delighting in how easy dogs are to read. She’s happy and lets Emerson know it. No platitudes or fake niceties. Maybe one day if he’s lucky, he can have his own dog.
“I know, just—she’s not like this. I mean with me, yeah. But no one else. Not even Alec.” Jason squats down, staring at Stella. He reaches out, smoothing his palm over her side in time with Emerson’s strokes. They continue like that for long seconds, each of them petting Stella, separate but together. It’s nice in the kind of way Emerson never would’ve expected.
“I like your dog,” he says after what feels like a very long amount of silence.
The smile that spreads across Jason’s face is familiar, comforting, and it startles Emerson to realize how used to it being aimed his way he’s getting. He has no right craving that soft affection directed towards him, yet he does, and there is no one to blame but himself. Well, except maybe Jason and his damn big smile.
“Clearly the feeling is mutual,” Jason says, lowering himself to the floor. Unlike Emerson who’s sitting cross-legged, Jason stretches out his long limbs so they’re bracketing Emerson and Stella. The material of his gray sweats pulls obscenely tight over his thick thighs.
“Don’t move.”
Emerson freezes, fingers curled in Stella’s thick fur as his heart immediately lodges itself in his throat.
“Don’t panic either,” Jason says in a soothing tone. “I just see Freddie peeking around the back of the couch. He’s watching you.”
“What do I do?” Emerson asks.
“Just wait for him to come,” Jason says. “Pet Stella again. I think he’s jealous. When he realizes you’ll pet him too, he’s gonna come out.”
“Alright,” Emerson whispers, afraid to even breathe too loudly and risk scaring Freddie off.
Despite Jason’s instructions, he doesn’t move his hand. He’s supposed to, he knows, but he’s frozen, afraid of messing up and scaring off Freddie.
“Breathe,” Jason reminds him. Emerson takes a steadying breath but still doesn’t move. Not until Jason lowers his hand over Emerson’s, guiding both of them in a soothing motion over Stella’s back. “This okay?”
Okay. What a vague word. So easy to lie, so impossible to judge. Emerson has been okay for most of his life but what does that even mean? He was okay when his mom died, okay when he moved into a home where he was unwanted, okay when he was bullied, okay when he was diagnosed. Emerson has always been okay.
So no, he’s not okay right now. He’s something else. Something he doesn’t understand. Here on the floor of Jason’s house, Emerson feels more welcome than he ever did in his own home.
“Emmy?”
Emerson’s heart gets stuck in his throat. Every time Jason suggested a nickname before, his instant reaction was no. They’d felt wrong, like the too itchy shirts his aunt used to buy him. This nickname is like soft cotton, no tags, perfect fit. It feels like him in a way that makes his jaw wobble.
“Guess that's another fail,” Jason says with soft laughter, misreading Emerson’s silence.
If Emerson could talk, he might scream. It’s not a no. He wants to hear it again. Needs to hear it again. If only his brain didn’t paralyze him sometimes, rendering him unable to talk even as his brain works overtime. Going nonverbal is the strangest feeling. Because he knows he’s capable of speaking, yet the words simply won’t come out, no matter how hard he tries.
“Emerson?”
He opens his mouth but a reply won’t come. It’s embarrassing how much that makes him want to cry, makes him feel like a child again ready to be chastised for being antisocial or too shy even though he’d tried explaining he didn’t stop talking on purpose.
Jason’s gaze isn’t full of exasperation or annoyance, making the words somehow lodge themselves so firmly in Emerson’s throat he might as well be choking on them. If he doesn’t get it out now, he knows he won’t ever get the nerve to do it later, but the plea is stuck on the tip of his tongue. Please , he wants to beg. Please .
Slowly Jason scoots closer, his thighs bracketing Emerson’s knees while Stella chuffs for attention.
“You with me?” Jason asks.
The smallest of nods is the most Emerson can manage, but it earns him one of Jason’s smiles, loosening the knot of tension around his chest. He’s not mad, or calling Emerson rude or weird. He’s just smiling at him like, well—like Emerson is okay just how he is.
“Was the nickname that bad?”
Tell him. Tell him.
The words won’t come. Being able to contextualize his thoughts but not being able to give voice to them is like being trapped, and the spiral of frustration and shame only makes those words slip through his fingertips like grains of sand. He knows exactly what he should say, what he wants to say, but he simply can’t.
The air in his lungs doesn’t seem to register, and every lub-dub of his heart is grating and overstimulating. It’s not fair. He’s not even unhappy and—someone is texting him. No one texts him. No one but Jason. Startled, Emerson’s attention is drawn to Jason who is holding his own phone between his large hands. He taps out a message, and Emerson’s phone buzzes again.
Emerson breathes in deep. Once, twice. All the while Jason’s eyes stay on his phone, waiting. Waiting for Emerson to take his phone out of his pocket. Somehow, despite knowing whose name will be on the screen, he’s not prepared when he swipes it open and reads the messages.
Jason
hey
I thought maybe this might be easier. talking without talking ;)
Being hyperverbal means Emerson is rarely lost for words, but the few times this has happened to him in the past, he was met with misunderstanding and confusion. Yet here is Jason meeting him where he is, without demand or judgment. Suddenly the words trapped in his mind have a place to go, and his fingers fly across the screen.
Emerson
How did you know?
Jason
you’re not the first person I’ve seen go nonverbal before. Matty before a game, my brother when he was younger
Emerson
I’m sorry.
Jason
dont ever apologize for how your brain works
but if it was something I did or said tell me so I dont do it again
please
Emerson hesitates, glancing from his phone to Jason who he catches staring. Jason’s face has that same easy smile he always gives Emerson on it, which makes what he types next just that little bit easier.
Emerson
The nickname.
Jason
shit that bad?
Emerson
No. Not bad.
He looks up, watching the crease lines that form between Jason’s eyebrows as he reads the message. He can’t blame him for being confused when Emerson hardly understands himself. Does he like it? Maybe. He’s not sure. He’s so rarely sure about his feelings.
Emerson
When I was a kid my mom got me these feelings blocks. I used to get so frustrated that I didn’t know which one I was feeling that I’d knock the tower down.
It’s an innocuous enough confession, but it’s the closest Emerson has ever come to sharing anything about his mom with anyone since she died, about his life before. Chewing on his bottom lip, he looks up and watches Jason. There are no typing bubbles, but he’s doing something, and Emerson is content to wait, resuming his petting of Stella’s back while watching Jason tap and swipe at his phone.
Eventually his phone buzzes and Emerson drops his gaze, lips tugging up in the corner when he sees that Jason has sent him a feelings chart. Except he’s modified it and Emerson has to tap it to zoom in, curious what he’s written. There at the bottom, instead of the word confused, the little emoji face has been crossed out and replaced with the blocky, messy handwriting he now knows belongs to Jason along with the words “needs to pet a dog.”
Laughter bubbles up out of Emerson, startling Stella and Jason judging by the way his eyes dart up. His smile is hesitant but pleased. A second later a new text comes.
Jason
pretty sure petting a dog cures all
Emerson fights off a smile, typing his own return message.
Emerson
Are you volunteering yours?
Jason
consider Freddie and Stella yours, and I your humble servant
The smile breaks free, even as his words still won’t, but that’s alright. Jason doesn’t seem to mind.
Emerson
You should probably be more careful making such generous offers. You never know what someone else’s motivations might be. What if I text you at two in the morning demanding cuddles?
Jason’s reply is swift.
Jason
from me or the dogs?
Emerson reads the message four times, sure he’s misreading it. Jason can’t be flirting, can he? No one has ever flirted with him before. Well, there was one guy in college who constantly tried to get Emerson to wear his jacket, but he always smelled like Spam. This can’t be flirting because Jason is straight. Maybe friends cuddle. Emerson has never had a friend he was close enough with to know, but Jason is a touchy feely guy. That’s probably all it is.
Before Emerson can formulate an appropriate reply, loud voices at the front door draw his attention away, startling him enough he drops his phone on Stella who barks before racing to the door with a wagging tail.
“I’m about to become the replacement human,” Jason laughs.
“Are you gonna let us in or what?” someone yells. “Why is the door even locked?”
Steeling himself for the inevitable awkwardness, Emerson is unprepared for his phone to buzz again.
Jason
you still okay with this? we can do it another night or if you want you can hang out in my room for a bit until youre ready to meet them
The last thing he feels sure about is meeting new people, especially right now. But something about Jason’s easy offer to accommodate his needs without questioning him, or trying to get out of hanging out makes Emerson feel unexpectedly brave.
Emerson
I think I’m alright, if you’re okay with things being incredibly awkward. I don’t think, well, I don’t know if I’ll be much of a conversationalist.
Holding his breath, he waits for the inevitable. For Jason to politely reschedule. It’ll be better than avoiding him.
Jason
thats okay Alec talks enough for everyone
he means well but he’s kind of like Stella
Emerson
Are you comparing your little brother to a dog?
Jason
definitely
When he looks up it’s to find Jason with a smug grin. Before he knows what’s happening Jason is yelling, “Hey Alec, did you know you’re like Stella?”
“Open the door and say that to my face, dick face.”
This is followed by a deeper, calmer voice. “Should we come back, Jason?”
Jason turns his attention to Emerson who shakes his phone, sending one last text.
Emerson
You can let them in, but thank you. For everything. No one has ever done something like this for me.
Jason’s expression as he reads the message is unreadable, but he turns it into the all too familiar smile quickly. He rises to stand with an impressive amount of grace for someone so large, holding a hand out to Emerson who readily accepts the help. His own fingers curl around the width of Jason’s broad palm, squeezing tightly before Jason gives a tug and hefts him up. He blinks, startled to come face to face with Jason. Or as close to face to face as you can with someone who is six-foot-five.
“We got this, Emerson, and if you need a swift escape I’m just a text away.” He pats his pocket, shooting Emerson a wink before moving around him to unlock the front door.
Two men step inside, and Emerson quickly recognizes each of them from Jason’s photos in his office. Theo is tall, though not as tall as Jason, with broad shoulders and the bluest eyes half-hidden behind his thick glasses. Despite his size, his presence doesn’t command attention the way Jason’s does, easily falling into step behind Jason’s younger brother who, despite his much smaller stature, demands more attention than anyone in the room.
“Fucking finally. Thought you were gonna leave us out there all night,” Alec grumbles. He sucks on the straw in his large drink before shooting Jason the middle finger.
“I was busy,” is all Jason says, unruffled by Alec’s attitude. “Alec, Theo. This is Emerson. Be nice.”
“I am the nicest,” Alec retorts, shooting Emerson a charming smile. While they don’t look alike on the surface, when Alec smiles he looks so much like Jason, the shape of their happiness much the same. “Everyone loves me. Obviously Emerson will too. Right, Emerson?”
Emerson stiffens at the unexpected question. As if sensing his unease, Jason moves into his personal space and before Emerson knows what’s happening that big, warm hand of his settles at the back of his neck giving a gentle squeeze. He’s grateful for the contact, especially when Alec’s eyes dart between Emerson and his brother. Before Alec can say anything else Theo wraps an arm around Alec’s waist, lowering his chin to the top of Alec’s head and offering him a friendly smile. “Nice to meet you, Emerson. Sorry we’re late. This Coke addict needed a hit.”
“Yeah because someone,” he pauses, directing his glare at Jason, “filled the fridge with Dr. Pepper.”
Pleasure and discomfort rise in equal measure. Jason has kept Emerson’s favorite kind of pop in his mini fridge during lunch recently, but Emerson assumed he liked it too, even if Jason usually picks the green apple Gatorade and not the soda. The idea that he’s been buying it just for Emerson makes him feel warm in the cheeks, but the pleasure is short-lived because Alec looks decidedly annoyed by the prospect.
He opens his mouth, but the apology won’t come, and he bites his lip with a sigh. He’s off to a horrible start. Jason’s brother and best friend are going to hate him.
“You know you could bring your own Coke next time,” Jason points out.
“Fuck off,” Alec grumbles, chewing on the end of his straw. He meanders forward, setting his soda on the coffee table before throwing himself on the couch. Stella jumps up on top of him, licking his face and barking. “I know, your daddy is so annoying, isn’t he? Bet you’re so glad your favorite person is here, aren’t you?”
“Ignore Alec,” Jason tells Emerson in a mock whisper.
“I can literally hear you, asshole.”
Theo and Jason laugh at the same time, each of them grinning at Emerson like something is funny though he has no idea what.
“You want something to drink?” Jason asks Theo.
“You got any of that craft beer left?”
“I think I’ve got a can or two in the back of the fridge,” he tells Theo before turning his gaze on Emerson. “Are you thirsty?”
Emerson has no idea if he’s thirsty. He drank water a few hours ago. Usually he doesn’t notice he’s thirsty until a headache comes on. Either way, he nods because he could probably use a drink, and it affords him some way to participate in what’s happening.
“Why don’t you come with me to get the drinks,” Jason says in a way that manages to sound like a gentle command and not a question. It’s too easy to let Jason’s hand move from his neck to his shoulder, guiding him towards the kitchen. The warmth and weight of his hand on Emerson’s shoulder soothes away some of his deregulation, while making him ponder what it might feel like if Jason’s hand inched lower to his waist. His hand is huge, and with it touching him now, it’s all too easy to imagine what it would feel like to have that solid warmth somewhere else.
No one touches Emerson, and yeah maybe he’s a little touch starved—or a lot—but Jason is also handsome and kind, and Emerson is probably a horrible person for thinking about Jason touching him like that while Jason is just being a good friend.
It’s not until they’re alone in the kitchen, the sound of Theo and Alec’s voices fading into a low hum in the background that Emerson manages to find his voice. He holds the words in, watching Jason rummage around in the fridge pulling out a cold water bottle and a can of Dr. Pepper, which he passes to Emerson.
“Take both,” he says, not making Emerson choose.
He’s got his back turned to Emerson, chattering away about the beer he’s looking for that he picked up at some craft brewery last week when Emerson manages to speak.
“I’m sorry.”
Jason jerks, slamming his head on the shelf in his refrigerator. He curses softly under his breath turning to fix his frown on Emerson.
“Why?”
Breathing deeply through his nose, Emerson weighs the options. He could try and force more words out, but they feel heavy in a way he’s never been able to explain. Or, he could text. Jason didn’t seem to mind talking to him like that before. Decision made, he sets his drinks on the kitchen island so he can grab his phone, typing out a succinct message.
Emerson
About the Dr. Pepper. I don’t want your brother to be mad. You don’t need to keep anything special around for just me.
The lines on Jason’s forehead creep together in a way that’s unnatural on his otherwise jovial face. No one should ever make Jason King frown.
“Emmy.”
Emerson inhales sharply, causing Jason to curse again.
“Sorry, fuck. You said no, and I just?—”
Taking the one and only opportunity he might ever get, Emerson’s fingers fly across his phone, grammar be damned.
Emerson
please
say it again
The lines on Jason’s forehead deepen.
“You don’t hate it?” he asks.
He’s used to Jason’s voice: loud, excited, booming, confident. He’s not sure he’s ever heard it sound so uncertain. He wants to remedy that. Quickly.
Emerson
It was nice. More than nice. I…I loved it.
The slow spread of joy across Jason’s face is a wonder. So much of Emerson’s life has been wasted trying to understand the people around him, unsure how they felt about a given social situation or even about Emerson. He doesn’t have to do that with Jason. His face is so easy to read, his friendship so freely given.
Jason King is a gift, and Emerson has no idea what he did to deserve him.
“Yeah?” Emerson nods, and that clear happiness on Jason’s face makes Emerson’s insides squirm. He’s not sure anyone has ever looked at him like this, and Emerson is entirely unprepared for the feelings it invokes.
Lowering his eyes to his phone, Jason types out a message that does nothing to curb the storm of emotions warring inside of Emerson.
Jason
I really want to hug you
would that be ok?
As a kid, Emerson used to imagine himself in one of his books. He’d be brave like the protagonist or popular. Sometimes he pretended he had enough coordination to dance or that everyone wanted to be his friend. After his mom died, they changed. He imagined he was a beloved hero or part of a daring trio. Occasionally, he imagined being swept off his feet by Prince Charming, one who didn’t wear too much cologne or like loud parties. Mostly though, he dreamed about belonging, about what it might be like to be the leading kind of character, the kind that other people wanted around.
For reasons he doesn’t begin to understand, Jason makes him feel like that.
“Emmy?” Jason whispers.
The words are as fragile as the broken snow globe from his childhood, his head a mess of water and glitter that’s going to stick to everything when it breaks. Jason’s got him shaken up and turned around, Emerson hardly knows which way is up. What he does know is that Jason is right here, his friendship the kind of safety net Emerson has never had before making what he says next just that little bit easier.
“Yes.”
There’s no hesitation from Jason as he closes the distance between them before Emerson is being hugged, really hugged, for the first time since his mom never came home. The embrace is barely there, almost as if Jason is afraid to hold on too tightly, and that makes something inside of him fracture. All the closed off needs and wants splinter into an infinite number of new cracks.
“Tighter,” he chokes.
Jason doesn’t ask if he’s sure, trusting Emerson to know what he wants and needs. Slowly, Jason’s arms tighten around him in the sweetest pressure, affording the permission Emerson needs to return the hug, relishing in the feeling of Jason pressed so tightly to him. To his relief, Jason doesn’t pepper him with questions or release the hold too soon, seemingly content to let Emerson’s fingers dig into the back of his cotton shirt and bury his face in Jason’s shoulder.
There’s undeniable strength in the arms that hold him but softness too, from the swell of his tummy to the slow cadence of his gentle breathing.
Has Emerson ever felt this good? This safe? Pleasure buzzes in his brain at the full-body contact, his entire nervous system sighing in pleasure the same way his body relaxes beneath the comfort of his favorite weighted blanket. Except hugging Jason is ten times better than his blanket, the curve of his muscles and softness surrounding Emerson in his strength and scent. While Emerson might be woefully inexperienced in this particular thing, he’s certain there’s no better hugger in the world than Jason.
Settling into the embrace, he focuses on the rise and fall of Jason’s chest, the faint ba-bump of his steady heart, and the hand that strokes up and down his back. Every bit of tension and unease bleeds from him in the most cathartic release he’s ever experienced.
A loud knock at the door has Jason pulling back and though Emerson is disappointed to end the hug, it’s hard to focus on anything besides the thrum of contentment pulsing through him.
“That’s the pizza,” Jason says, taking a small step back. “I should get it.”
“Alright,” Emerson nods.
“Are you okay?” Jason asks.
“I’m good,” Emerson answers, surprised at how truthful the words are. “Really good.”
The corners of Jason’s mouth turn up in a smile, somehow smaller and softer than his usual, yet more affecting than any of them have ever been because this one is because of Emerson, for Emerson.
Someone clears their throat, and Emerson spins to find Theo in the archway, an unreadable expression on his face as he stares at Jason. “Pizza’s here.”
“Shit, yeah. I’ll get that.”
Jason moves past Emerson, pausing to give his arm another squeeze before he’s gone, heading to the front door and leaving Emerson alone with Jason’s best friend. He’s heard enough stories about Theo to know how important he is to Jason—his favorite person in the world, Jason had called him once.
“So,” Theo starts, moving towards the fridge. “You and Jason.”
It’s not exactly a question which is probably for the best since Emerson has no idea how to respond. Is Theo unhappy he crashed their pizza night? Jason insisted he and Alec wouldn’t mind, but maybe Jason was wrong. Doubt knots itself around his heart, the tension doubling when Theo doesn’t say anything for long seconds, opening the fridge and pulling out a beer. He closes the fridge with his hip, blue eyes piercing in their intensity as he stares at Emerson.
“I don’t know if you know this,” Theo starts, popping the tab on the beer can, “but Jason has never invited anyone to our pizza nights before.”
Emerson has no idea how he would know that.
“You’re different,” Theo continues, something in his tone gentling. Despite his size, he’s got the same nonthreatening aura as Jason, and it’s hard to continue being stressed out when he looks at Theo’s smile or remembers all the nice things Jason has said about him. Maybe he’s just a little jealous? If that’s the case, he can reassure him.
“Jason is just being nice,” Emerson tries, entirely out of his depth to navigate this situation.
“Jason is nice,” Theo agrees. “He’s the nicest guy I’ve ever known. He would do anything for the people he cares about. Anything .”
He’s not saying things that Emerson doesn’t already know, though why he’s saying them Emerson has no idea. Are they just talking about how wonderful Jason is? Because if so, that’s easy.
“He’s the best,” Emerson agrees, thinking about the shape of his smile and the feeling of his arms. Best hardly begins to cover what Jason is. “I’ve never met anyone like him. He’s funny and kind and helpful. He’s…incredible.”
Theo’s smile grows. “You like him.”
“I think anyone who meets Jason would like him,” Emerson points out.
“Lots of people like Jason.” Theo’s smile dims. “Not everyone deserves him.”
That makes Emerson frown. Have people been mean to Jason? He can’t imagine that when Jason is so easy to like. But then, people are kind of terrible, so nothing would surprise him. Emerson almost asks, the question just on the tip of his tongue, when Jason reappears in the kitchen.
Jason’s eyes dart between Theo and Emerson. “I’m not interrupting something, am I?”
“Not at all,” Theo answers. “Emerson and I were just bonding.”
“That right?” Jason grins, expression brightening. “Over what? Let me guess, you two were singing the praises of my dazzling charm and good looks?”
“Here I thought Alec had the market cornered on being conceited.” Theo turns his gaze on Emerson. “One thing you’ll quickly learn is there is no one who loves a King man more than, well—a King man.”
Jason barks out a laugh, swinging his arm around Theo’s shoulder. “Yeah, yeah. Says the man who loves two King men.”
“Look what it’s got me,” Theo says with a grin.
“I’m gonna eat all the pizza if you guys don’t hurry up,” Alec yells from the other room, interrupting whatever it is that’s happening between Theo and Jason. “Well maybe not all of it, this one has pineapple. Disgusting.”
“Pineapple on pizza is the best,” Jason yells back. He turns to Emerson and Theo with expectant eyes. “Right?”
“No,” Theo and Emerson answer at the same time.
“I see how it is, my two favorite people teaming up against me,” Jason says with a shake of his head. He keeps talking, but Emerson has stopped listening, his brain honing in on Jason’s words.
My two favorite people.
My two favorite people.