Page 17

Jason holds his breath, waiting for a reaction but none comes. Emerson is almost frozen in place, his eyes unblinking as he stares at Jason with those big, wide eyes of his. They’re such a pale green they’re damn near translucent, the color magnified by the green of his suit.

Sucking in a deep breath, Jason does his best not to ramble, trying to give Emerson a moment to process but it’s so hard not to talk. His mind is reeling with thoughts, about his confession, about how pretty Emerson looks and, most especially, about how desperate he is to kiss a man.

Well, one man in particular.

“Emmy, do you need to text instead?”

Emerson shakes his head from side to side, a stray bit of hair falling into his eyes.

“Should I stop touching you?”

Emerson shakes his head again, using his free hand to curl it tightly into Jason’s suit so he doesn’t move. The desperation in the touch soothes something deep in Jason. He might not have any idea what the fuck he’s doing right now, but Emerson isn’t shutting him out. He still has a chance.

“Tell me what you need. I’ll do anything. Do you want me to get another last minute chaperone so you can process? Or should I just go back to the truck so you can have a few minutes alone? Or maybe?—”

“Say it again,” Emerson demands before snapping his mouth shut, unable to believe he just said that. Jason wants to kiss him all the more for not holding back with him.

“I don’t think I’m straight,” Jason repeats, smoothing his thumb over the arch of Emerson’s cheekbone a second time, trying to ground himself with the touch. “Well, not think . I know.”

“How do you know?” Emerson asks, barely breathing.

“I met someone. A guy—the most incredible guy. He’s smart and kind, and he knows all tons of niche information about the most random things, so talking to him is always fun. He’s just…amazing. He also wears a suit like it’s nobody's business.”

For all the hours Jason spent thinking about this moment, whether Emerson’s reaction would be positive or negative, a non-reaction hadn’t occurred to him.

“Emmy?”

Emerson takes a deep breath, fingers tightening in Jason’s suit to the point of discomfort.

“Just so we’re clear, this guy. Is he, um?—”

“You,” Jason finishes, realizing he was maybe not quite clear enough. “It’s you, Emmy. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since the day we met, and I didn’t realize what it meant until very recently, but I know now, and I’m…I’m still not sure what I am. Bisexual maybe. Or Pan. Probably Bi but I’m not sure. I just know it’s not other people, it’s you. It’s just you.”

“What’s so special about me?” Emerson asks in that way of his when he’s trying to puzzle something out that he doesn’t understand.

“Everything,” Jason answers, letting the tips of his fingers skim Emerson’s hair. It’s as soft as always, and the itch to sink his fingers into it, to pull Emerson against his body and keep him there is so damn strong. If they didn’t need to leave for the dance very soon he might try it.

“I don’t know about that,” Emerson mumbles.

“I do,” Jason counters, because while there is so much about his own sexuality he is still wildly uncertain about, his feelings for Emerson are crystal clear. “I see you, Emmy. I see your bravery and intelligence and kindness, and I like it all. You are so fucking special, and I like you. I like you so damn much it should scare me, but all I feel is excitement. Liking you feels like the moment right before a game when there’s nothing but possibility and hope.”

There’s a brief moment where Jason worries that maybe he’s been too honest, too upfront and too quick. His ex-girlfriends used to complain he was intense, and clingy, but he’s never understood it. If you like someone, aren’t you supposed to want to tell them? To spend all your time with them? He can’t imagine anything better than being allowed to be with Emerson all the time.

“Did you just compare me to football?” Emerson questions with the slightest quirk to his head.

“Uh, yes?”

“I don’t know how I feel about that,” Emerson says so seriously Jason worries he’s fucked up. Then Emerson’s lips curl up on each side in one of his rare, face splitting smiles. In this moment, Jason knows Emerson isn’t like football, he’s better. He’s the best thing in the entire fucking world.

“I like football,” Jason says, unable to stop his own face from breaking out into a self-satisfied grin. He can’t help it. He’s just so goddamn happy right now. “And you. I like you very much. As a friend and also romantically. In case I didn’t make that clear before.”

“I did pick up on that,” Emerson says, dragging his bottom lip between his teeth. “I—uh, me too.”

“You like football, too?” Jason teases.

“Absolutely not,” Emerson deadpans. “But I could try, for you.”

“I don’t want you to change for me, Emmy. I like you exactly like you are.”

“I like you too,” Emerson whispers. “More than I’ve ever liked anyone. Ever. I don’t even like most people, and I definitely don’t like anyone the way I like you. I want to be around you even when I want to be alone. It’s absolutely terrifying, Jason.”

“Hopefully not all scary,” Jason says, giving in to his urges to touch and soothe by letting his hand slide around the back of Emerson’s head. The reaction is instantaneous as Emerson presses into the touch ever so slightly, all the encouragement Jason needs to let his fingers sink into Emerson’s gorgeous red hair.

“I’m not sure,” Emerson answers, in that totally honest way of his. “It’s not bad but it’s…confusing.”

“Should I stop?”

“Absolutely do not stop touching me,” Emerson says, his hold on Jason’s suit damn near punishing now. “You started this.”

“I did,” Jason says, pretty sure he might never stop smiling again.

“We have to go to the dance, Jason. We’re going to be late. We can’t be late, we’ll get in trouble. And the school, oh my god, we just had a meeting with HR. What if they think we were lying and?—”

“Breathe,” Jason soothes. “Two teachers dating isn’t against the rules as long as there isn’t a power imbalance which, since we’re in different departments there isn’t. I checked this morning by the way, just to be sure. We’ll have to disclose things to HR if this goes somewhere, and I really hope it does, but we can take it one step at a time.”

Emerson’s frown deepens, but all Jason can think is cute . So fucking cute. He loves Emerson’s adorable frown. Not that he wants Emerson to worry because he’s absolutely certain they won’t get in trouble for dating, but he’s grown rather fond of Emerson’s resting frown and the way his lips—the top one just a little thinner than the bottom—turn down by default.

He wants to nibble them, wants to draw his tongue across those lips. First though, he needs to ask Emerson a very important question.

“I forgot to ask you something,” Jason says, letting his thumb stroke over the shell of Emerson’s ear. Even that is cute. He’s not sure he’s ever found anyone as attractive as he does Emerson, the sight of all his pale skin and long limbs, the line of his exposed throat and the tousle of red hair. He’s absolutely fucking gorgeous, and Jason might not have any idea how to please another man sexually, but fuck, he wants to learn.

“Is it about football?” Emerson asks.

“No,” Jason snorts. “Not this time. I uh, that is, Emerson Miller, will you go to the homecoming dance with me?”

“I am going to the dance with you,” Emerson says.

If possible Jason’s smile widens. “I mean as a date.”

“Oh, no.”

All the air in Jason’s lungs escapes in a single puff of rejection, but he does his best to hide the sharp sting of pain from his expression. If Emerson only wants to be friends then Jason will learn how to handle that. He will do anything to keep Emerson in his life, be whatever he needs. If he only wants a friend, then that’s what Jason will be.

Hell, Jason will be the best goddamn friend Emerson ever had. He will?—

“You can take me out tomorrow, though.”

“Wait, what?” Apparently it's his turn to be confused. “But you said no.”

“Yeah, because we’re chaperoning. We can’t be on a date. It’s work. But,” Emerson pauses, “tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” Jason repeats, heart inflating like a hot air balloon. Is Emerson saying yes? Is Emerson going to go on a date with him? Holy shit, is Jason going to have his first date with a man?

“You can take me on a date tomorrow,” Emerson repeats. “If you want.”

“I want. I really fucking want,” Jason affirms, lowering his forehead to Emerson's. “Please.”

“You don’t have to beg, you know,” Emerson points out, but he’s smiling again and Jason feels like he won the lottery. He’s pretty sure he would do anything to keep this beautiful man smiling like this.

“Alright,” Jason whispers.

“You’re still smiling,” Emerson says, the sweetest hint of a smile softening his features.

“Pretty sure I’m going to do it all night. Sorry.”

“I like your smile,” Emerson admits, cheeks flushing pink. “You’re…very handsome.”

“You think I’m handsome?” Jason asks, preening. He spent all week trying to get a read on Emerson, to figure out if he ever caught Emerson checking him out, but either he didn’t or Jason was even more oblivious than his brothers accused him of.

“You have a mirror,” Emerson huffs. “You’re very handsome. And big. And tall. And thick. And handsome. Wait, I said that already.”

“Full permission to talk about how big and handsome you think I am any time.”

“Do you like it?” Emerson asks, head tilting to the side and eyes roaming over Jason.

“I like it when you say it.” Jason knows he’s puffing out his chest, but he can’t stop. Emerson likes that he’s big and thick. Emerson thinks he’s handsome. Jason kind of wants to roll around in the praise. “So you like that I’m big, huh?”

“I do,” Emerson confirms, voice a little quiet and breathy, almost as if he can’t believe he’s saying it out loud. The hand fisted in Jason’s suit jacket loosens so that those long delicate fingers of his skim up Jason's chest until his hand rests there, tapping against the left pec. His eyes lift slowly, so earnest and full of trust. “I like how it feels when you hold me. It’s nice. Safe.”

Safe. That one word is Jason’s undoing. He’s been called a lot of things in his life. Sexy. Handsome. Huge. Built like a brick house. Fun. But that right there? Being safe for Emerson? That’s the best goddamn thing anyone has ever called him.

“Was that wrong?” Emerson asks quietly.

“Nothing about you is wrong, Emmy.” Jason breathes him in, pressing his lips to the top of Emerson’s head. “You are perfect.”

“No, I?—”

“Perfect,” Jason interrupts, refusing to let him argue about this.

“You’re stubborn.”

“Uh-huh,” Jason says, rubbing his cheek into the top of Emerson’s head. “Your hair is soft.”

“You like my hair,” Emerson says, managing to make it sound like both a statement and a question.

“I like every single thing about you, Emerson Miller.”

“You don’t know everything about me.”

“ Yet .” Jason pulls back, smoothing down the hair he just mussed up. The yet is very important. Emerson doesn’t know it, but Jason is going to date the fuck out of this perfect man. “Can I put on your boutonniere, Emmy?”

“Oh,” Emerson says, looking down at his other hand like maybe he forgot what he was holding. He lifts the small sunflower to Jason who takes it, careful not to crush the petals. He unhooks the back, careful not to poke Emerson as he slips it into the suit material. “There.”

“You sound very confident for someone who only just realized he wasn’t straight. Wait, when did you realize?”

“Uh, at the tailor’s last weekend, when you know—” Jason breaks off, waving one of his hands around in what he hopes is a meaningful gesture. Judging by Emerson’s slightly confused expression, it’s not.

“I have no idea.”

“ WhenCharlieflirtedwithyou ,” Jason gets out in a rush.

The reaction is delayed, the slow dawning of realization spreading across Emerson’s face. “You were jealous?”

It’s easy to see he was in hindsight, which is strange because Jason has never been jealous. People used to flirt with his girlfriends and he’d shrug it off. Even when he got cheated on, the most he felt was a sting of rejection that had passed when he realized he didn’t actually even like her enough to be mad beyond the betrayal of it.

Like everything else involving Emerson, things feel different. The idea of anyone else being with him sours Jason’s insides. He wants Emerson to be his . Which is likely a very queer thing to think about a man. It definitely puts Jason somewhere on the bisexual scale, but he’s more concerned with getting the guy first and worrying about the label later.

Operation: get-a-boyfriend is in full swing.

First things first—homecoming dance. It might not be a date, but Jason’s going to be damn sure Emerson has a good time. Second, he's going to take Emerson on the world’s best first date. Jason’s got it all planned out, spent all week researching other date options in case Emerson said yes, and he knows exactly where he wants to take him. Dating might not be exactly like football, but Jason understands how to be patient, how to wait for the right time to take your shot. He’s got the plan, now all he needs to do is find a way to make the play.

* * *