Page 18

“I have a lot of questions.”

Jason can’t hide his smile even if he wanted to, which he doesn’t. “I expected that.”

“But we don’t have time for them all,” Emerson sighs, staring out the window as Jason turns into the school parking lot, surprised at how full it already is. Then again, he and Emerson took a little longer at Emerson’s place than planned with Jason’s impromptu confession.

“How about you write them down,” Jason suggests. “You can make a list.”

“A list,” Emerson says, sitting up a little straighter.

“Yeah, make a list of all your questions, or things you wanna talk about, and we can do that after the dance. Or on our date.” Jason’s smile widens until his cheeks hurt. He can’t believe he gets to go on a date with Emerson. How did he get so lucky?

Emerson wastes no time in pulling out his phone, the familiar scrunch of his face as he types away at it making Jason’s chest clench. It’s strange to think about how different it is to his past experiences. It feels like he should be focusing more on the whole, Emerson is a man , thing but in his heart there’s just an Emerson-shaped space. His gender doesn’t really matter. Does that make Jason pansexual? Or is that still bi? He feels like he should just know, but he doesn’t.

All he knows for certain is that he’s never felt like this about anyone. None of his exes made his insides feel like they were full of butterflies, which makes him feel a little guilty. He hopes he wasn’t a shitty boyfriend. He’s pretty sure he wasn’t. There just had never been a spark, even with the ones he had fun with. Hell, sitting this close to Emerson has Jason’s entire body keyed up, the two feet between them might as well be the Grand Canyon. If Emerson wasn’t so fixated on his list, Jason would reach out to take his hand, wanting to touch him so badly. He resists by keeping both hands on the steering wheel as he backs his truck into a spot in the back of the parking lot, hoping to give them a few minutes to talk in the car.

No sooner has he shut his engine off then he realizes this is not going to work. At least a dozen of his players are all horsing around in the middle of the parking lot, their attention clearly on Jason as they take turns shoving each other and walking towards them. If Jason had been paying attention to his surroundings and not daydreaming about Emerson’s delicate fingers, he might’ve noticed where he was parking, but instead he’s put them right in the center of future chaos.

“Ah, shit,” Jason grumbles.

“What?” Emerson asks, attention shifting from his phone to Jason. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Jason assures him, nodding out the front window.

Emerson’s body goes stiff. “Do you want me to stay in the truck? Or uh, I don’t know, hide?”

“Why would you hide?” Jason frowns.

“Because they’re going to see us come together, and they might make assumptions.”

“I’m not worried about that,” Jason says, unbuckling his seatbelt. “We come to work together every day, besides I would never want to hide you. I was just hoping for a few more minutes alone with you. That and I know them. They’re going to be rowdy as fuck.”

Proving his point, Matty and Sanchez jump on each other at the same time, ending up in a haphazard dog pile on the asphalt in front of his truck.

“Looks like chaperoning duties start now,” Jason laughs, giving Emerson’s knee a squeeze before getting out of the truck. “What the hell are you guys doing?”

“Hey Coach,” Matty yells from the ground, looking nonplussed about being buried beneath five other guys who joined the pile. “Did you bring a date or— oh , you brought Mr. Miller.”

On cue every player turns to look behind him. Standing at the front of Jason’s truck is Emerson, smoothing down his hair and smiling despite the obvious tension in his body.

“Damn, Mr. Miller, you clean up nice. You too, Coach King,” Matty adds, followed by a round of cat calls and cheers from several other players. Unsure if they’re whistling at him or Emerson, Jason moves around the front of his truck, trying to subtly but effectively block Emerson. “Do I need to remind you all to be on your best behavior?”

“No, Coach,” enough voices echo that Jason doesn’t feel the need to repeat himself.

A hand touches his lower back and Jason turns, unable to stop the smile that spreads across his face. “Yeah?”

“I’m gonna head inside and check in with Mabel to see if she needs an extra set of hands with the photo booth. I know Mrs. Montalvo said she was going to come early to help, but she’s not the most prompt. Mabel might need me.”

“Sounds good,” Jason tells him, unsure if Emerson actually feels the need to help or needs an excuse to get away from the commotion of over a dozen rowdy football players. Either way, he’s unwilling to put him on the spot in front of the students by asking. “I’ll wrangle these guys and see you inside in a little bit.”

Emerson nods, making a hasty retreat that Jason watches with calculating eyes. It’s not until he turns back to his kids that he realizes he wasn’t the only one staring.

Matty, expectedly, is the first to break the silence.

“Coach King, is Mr. Miller your date?”

“No,” Jason answers, because as Emerson so decidedly pointed out, this is not a date.

“Do you wish he was?” Sanchez asks, the nosy fucker.

“He totally does, did you see the way he was staring,” Taylor, one of his other seniors, interjects. “He’s been watching Mr. Miller for weeks.”

“I thought this was a homecoming dance, not a gossip session,” Jason snorts, arching one eyebrow at them. He doesn’t like to give his players too much shit, especially since he knows they’re kidding, but he doesn’t want them to say or do anything that could make Emerson uncomfortable. Besides, he barely knows what this thing between them is; he's not sure he’s ready for it to be the topic of school gossip before they’d have a chance to figure it out themselves.

“But you make it so much fun, Coach. The way you always make heart eyes at him like you’re in an anime and?—”

Jason might not have his coach whistle with him, but he doesn’t need that to get their attention. Placing two fingers between his lips, he whistles loudly, earning him some laughter and grumbles but also their undivided and quiet attention. He scrubs a hand over his jaw, struggling not to let his embarrassment show. How the hell did they all clock his feelings before he did?

“Off the ground and inside boys,” Jason instructs, as eager to get the subject changed as he is to get them inside the dance. For safety, he tells himself, and not so he can see Emerson again. He watches them all stand, smoothing down their suits and poking at each other silently. “Where did you guys leave your dates anyway?”

“No dates this year, Coach,” Matty answers, slinging his arm around Arlo’s shoulder. Arlo looks like he has no idea how he got there, and Jason would laugh if it weren’t sort of adorable. “Team bonding. We’re manifesting state champions this year.”

When Jason asked Matty to make Arlo feel part of the team, he hadn’t realized how seriously he and the other guys would take it, but he’s damn proud of them. He also suspects the lack of dates might be part of that commitment since he knows Arlo didn’t ask anyone and turned down the three girls who asked him, but he wisely doesn’t mention that.

“Damn right we are,” Jason grins, crossing his arms. “You boys taking us all the way to state?”

“Yes, Coach!” they all exclaim at the same time.

Jason stands just that little bit taller. He’d been nervous at the start of the year with some of his big players gone, but these kids have shown him the kind of commitment and dedication that reminds Jason exactly why he loves coaching and teaching. They’ve also had a stellar start to the season and Jason won’t be surprised if they do make it all the way to state. Nothing is a sure thing in football, but Jason’s not going to jinx them with statistics and realism tonight. Tonight, his boys deserve to have fun. They kicked ass at their game last night, and they deserve this, all of them.

“Then I expect to see you all behaving like champions tonight. Party hard but safe,” he says, making sure to lock eyes with each of them individually. He doesn’t expect any trouble, at least not from his guys, but he still wants to be sure they set a good example for the other students. Especially the younger ones, like Arlo and the other freshman who are experiencing their first homecoming and might be tempted to cave in to peer pressure to fit in.

“Yes, Coach,” Matty says, followed by him elbowing Sanchez who copies. Once they’ve said it, the rest of the players follow suit.

“Good, then let's get inside and have fun.”

The guys nod, moving towards the gym. All except Arlo who lingers towards the back of the group. Jason slows his steps until they’re a good twenty feet behind the group.

“Excited?” he asks Arlo.

“I guess.” Arlo tenses. “I don’t dance.”

“To be fair, most of the kids just stand around and stare at each other,” Jason laughs thinking of last year's dance where no one had actually danced for the first hour, all of them too nervous to be the first one. Things had only gotten moving when Jason had gotten Matty and a few of last year's seniors to join him in a very awkward rendition of “Drop It Low.” Once the kids started laughing at Jason’s exaggeratedly bad dance moves, they’d let loose.

With a shrug, Arlo moves forward. He’s quiet, rubbing his hands on his suit jacket which he tugs at. “It’s too big. Used to be my brothers.”

“Jesus or Carlos?”

“Uh, Jesus. But I think it was Alejandro’s before that.”

“Still looks sharp,” Jason tells him, stopping him in place with a hand to the shoulder. Arlo turns on his heels and Jason nods at his tie. “Mind if I fix that for you?”

“I guess.” Arlo stands very still while Jason undoes the knot, carefully retying so it no longer looks like a toddler did it. With his brothers all working long hours and his mom’s arthritic hands, Arlo probably tied it himself, and while there’s no shame in that, Jason suspects he might feel a little more confident with it fixed.

“Did you really bring Mr. Miller?” Arlo asks once Jason has finished.

“We came together,” Jason answers vaguely, aware it's kind of an evasive answer but equally aware of his position. His personal life isn’t technically the students’ business, but as their teacher and coach he spends more time with some of these kids than their own parents. He understands their curiosity, and with some of them—perhaps Arlo if Jason’s suspicions are correct—he understands it might be more. There are other queer teachers on campus, but none of them are dating, and none of them are Arlo’s football coach or favorite teacher.

Given the recent fiasco with Mr. Caldwell, it might be safer to lie, but Jason won’t do that. Not only because Emerson deserves more but because Jason does too. He’s only just now realizing who he is and while he might not be ready to take out an advert in the local paper to announce it, he doesn’t want to hide either.

“He’s not like other teachers,” Arlo says, fidgeting with the end of the tie which he’s untucked from his suit jacket.

“No, he’s not,” Jason agrees.

“I like him,” Arlo says, the weight of what that means not lost on Jason. This is a kid who rarely likes anyone, who wants nothing more than to stand out, while also trying to hide in the shadows.

It occurs to Jason that liking Emerson, dating him, could be a lot bigger than merely admitting he isn’t straight. He’s not sure what it will mean, but looking at one of his kids watching him, waiting to see if Jason is brave enough to be himself so maybe one day he can be too, he knows he’s willing to find out.

“I like him too, Arlo.”

The exhale he lets out is so deep Jason feels it in his bones. He doesn’t say anything else, but he doesn’t need to. Sometimes words aren’t fucking enough for the big feelings that get trapped inside.

“ Listo para la fiesta? ” Jason asks, switching to Spanish. He wishes his fluency was as good as Alec’s but his abuela had been adamant her only son and grandkids not speak Spanish after the struggles she had immigrating. She was desperate for her family to adapt and acclimate to America, and in the process, they’d missed out on the richness of her culture. Growing up, he never heard Spanish spoken at home and rarely ever heard his abuela speak it. It wasn’t until Alec was in middle school and her health declined that she allowed the comfort of her native tongue to come out and by then Jason had already moved away for college. By the time he moved back home his abuela had died and he’d lost his chance to learn it from her.

He’s been practicing on his own though, eager to find a part of something he never had and to connect with those of his students whose primary language at home isn’t English.

“ No sé, ” Arlo answers. “ ?Crees que Matty va a bailar? ”

“ Probablemente .” Jason offers what he hopes is an encouraging smile, pretty sure he knows where this line of questioning is going. “ Podrías preguntarle .”

Arlo stops dead in his tracks, and for a moment, Jason worries he’s misread the situation.

“ Solo si quieres ,” Jason adds.

“ Yo no bailo ,” Arlo replies, before switching to English with a heavy sigh. “Also it’s going to be full of people. I don’t think I like people, Coach.”

Arlo looks a little like he might be sick, like he did before their first game when he puked in the trash can from nerves.

“There will indeed be a shit ton of people, but if you get overwhelmed just find Mr. Miller, alright?” Jason gives Arlo’s shoulder a squeeze as they stop in front of the gym, blaring music and flashing strobe lights filtering through the open door. “You got this.”

Arlo nods, sparing one final look at Jason before heading off towards the rest of his team who, much to Jason’s delight, have congregated outside the doors apparently waiting for Arlo. When Matty tugs him into the crowd, his frown briefly slips, an almost bashful smile on his face as he stares at Matty. It makes Jason want to find Emerson, so he wastes no time, making sure to touch base with Amy, one of the other teachers on check-in duty, before making his way into the gym.

Though it’s nearly empty inside with most of the students either out on the lawn waiting to come in or still on their way—the gym is a sight to behold. Between the various teacher and student volunteers, the gym looks like a party store threw up. Streamers hang from all the doorways, clusters of balloons strung up in some kind of fancy balloon arch for a backdrop beneath the basketball hoop, all thanks to their art teacher Trey, and the refreshment tables that line the far wall are covered in various snacks and drinks donated from parents or bought from student funds.

All in all, the gym is barely recognizable from what Jason is used to, and it sets the tone for the night. He waves to various students and teachers in search of Emerson, but he’s nowhere to be found. Eventually, he makes his way around the edge of the gym towards the photo booth, hoping Mabel has seen him.

“There’s the best dressed woman at Homecoming,” Jason grins.

Mabel waves a hand in Jason’s general direction, but her cheeks darken beneath her shock of pink blush which matches her all pink pantsuit. “Don’t think you can flatter me to get what you want, Mr. King.”

“Who says I want something?” Jason gasps, holding his hand to his chest in mock outrage. “Maybe I wanted to just come see my favorite lady.”

“Uh-huh, then why did you prowl around the edge of the gym for the last ten minutes like a lost puppy looking for something?” She directs her gaze at Jason. “Or maybe you were looking for someone. A very handsome someone in a snazzy green suit.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Jason mumbles, unsure why the fuck everyone seems to know things he only just realized. Is he that obvious? He didn’t think he was.

Mabel’s smile softens as she lays her wrinkled hand over Jason’s. She leans in close, her voice barely above a whisper and hard to hear over the blaring music. “He looks very fetching.”

“Doesn’t he?” he whispers, unsure how to put into words what a relief it is to say it to someone else. Shit, Mabel really is his favorite person at this school besides Emerson.

Mabel nods, fussing with Jason’s perfectly straight tie. “I remember when you came to these dances as a student. Always surrounded by friends, always laughing. You made sure everyone else had fun all night.”

“That’s the point of a dance,” Jason points out, not entirely sure where she’s going with this. “Besides, you know I love to have a good time.”

“I know you do, but more importantly you like everyone else to have a good time. Always taking care of your players and students, of the other teachers. You’re a good boy, Jason,” Mabel says, the slightest crack in her voice. “A good man. It does an old woman good to see you happy, to know you won’t be lonely when I’m gone”

“Don’t go talking about leaving and make me cry,” Jason warns her. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re going to be here forever.”

“Pretty sure not even your level of stubbornness can make that happen,” Mabel says with a keen eye. “I’m proud of you, kid.”

She squeezes Jason’s hand, her skin so thin and soft; Jason has the most irrational urge to cry. It reminds him of holding his abuela's hand for the last time, a tangible reminder of just how many years he’s known Mabel and through all those, what a steady presence she’s been, first in his high school life and now his adult one.

“Have you uh, you seen, uh,” but Jason can’t seem to get the words out around the lump in his throat.

“Mr. Miller went to get something from his classroom,” Mabel offers. “Such a polite man. That first day I’d had the great idea to try and get you two to be friends, but it looks like you accomplished that all on your own.”

“He’s pretty great,” Jason agrees, scrubbing a hand over his face. Thinking about Emerson is giving him the kind of feelings that are inconvenient for such a public place.

“There he is now,” Mabel says, lifting her hand and waving him over.

Jason turns in time to see Emerson return the gesture with an endearingly awkward half-wave before hurrying across the gym. It’s filled up enough he has to weave through teenagers, his cheeks flushed pink when he stops beside Jason.

“Did you run?” Jason asks, adjusting Emerson’s slightly crooked boutonniere.

“Uh-huh,” Emerson says, tapping the ear defenders he was definitely not wearing before. “I forgot these.”

Jason frowns. “I should’ve reminded you about how loud it was going to be.”

“It’s alright, I forgot them in my classroom yesterday,” Emerson says, again tapping the side of them. It’s clear he put them on in a hurry because his hair is sticking up in all kinds of wonky directions, somehow charming in the way everything about Emerson is. “I thought it was bad luck when I left them, but maybe it was actually good luck.”

Try as he might, Jason can’t do more than stare at the picture Emerson makes in his stylish suit in sharp juxtaposition to his mussed up hair and his ear defenders with the Lord of the Rings stickers on them. It's so very Emerson in a way that fills him with a sharp burst of affection. Emerson is so without preamble, so matter of factly himself even when Jason knows he worries if that’s the version of him other people want, and Jason likes him all the more for it.

“What?” Emerson asks, patting his head. “Should I take them off? They don’t match, but it was loud and?—”

“Don’t take them off,” Jason tells him, gently pushing his hand away. “You need them, you wear them. You look very handsome, Emmy.”

“You always say that,” Emerson protests, but the pink flush that rises on his cheeks lets Jason know the effect his words have. It’s reassuring to see that perhaps he’s not the only one drowning in feelings he has no idea what to do with.

“If I do, it’s only because it’s always true,” Jason says, all but forgetting they’re not alone until Mabel clears her throat loudly.

“Why don’t you two boys get in the photo booth?”

“I thought it was for students,” Emerson says.

“It is.” Mabel grabs one of the prop crowns and sets it on Jason’s head, passing Emerson a plastic sword. “I have to make sure this old lady brain of mine remembers what to do. You two get inside and help me now.”

“Can’t argue with Mabel,” Jason grins, looping his arm around Emerson’s shoulder and leading him through the doorway of the inflatable photo booth.

Though they’re not entirely concealed, between the small doorway and Jason’s overall girth, Emerson is entirely hidden in the corner. Something he clearly recognizes from the way his body sags on his exhale once they’re inside.

“You alright?” Jason asks, skimming his fingers over the back of Emerson’s neck.

Emerson nods. “It’s a lot but I’ll survive.”

“Maybe we can aim a little higher than surviving,” Jason says, wrapping his hand around the back of Emerson’s neck and giving it a gentle squeeze.

All the tension leaves Emerson’s body with a single touch, his shoulders slumping and his eyes falling shut. The sight of him so relaxed because of Jason is almost more than he can bear. Emerson is never fake, he doesn’t know how to be, but it’s clear that most people get a masked version of him. A version Emerson has crafted for control and safety. It’s still Emerson, but it’s the version he feels safe showing others.

Knowing that he gets the unmasked version, the one Emerson keeps hidden away, makes Jason want to kick his feet, laugh, cry and hold on to Emerson and never fucking let him go. It’s hard to believe that he’s lucky enough to see the stripped down version of Emerson, to be trusted with all his joy and fear because Emerson knows that Jason can handle it, can handle him. That trust is one of the greatest gifts Jason’s ever been given, and he sure as hell isn’t going to fumble it.

“Have I mentioned how much I like you?” Jason asks.

“Not in the last thirty-six minutes,” Emerson says seriously as if he’s actually been counting. Then his lips crack into an honest to god smile and he laughs, the sound music to Jason’s ears.

Emerson should always be happy, should always know how fucking special he is. If Jason thinks too hard about Emerson’s past, especially his family, it makes his mood turn bitter, which is the last thing he wants tonight. Instead he focuses on right now and the way happiness lights Emerson up. He’s always beautiful, but happiness looks damn good on him.

Clearly no one else appreciates Emerson the way he deserves, meaning it’s up to Jason to do it now, vocally and consistently, for as long as Emerson will let him.

“I’m neglecting my duties then,” Jason replies.

“Which duty is that exactly?” Emerson asks, those green eyes of his so wide and guileless. With his face angled towards Jason and his piercing eye contact, it’d be easy to mistake the question for flirting, but Jason knows it’s not. It’s a genuine question, because he doesn’t understand what they are. Truthfully, neither does Jason, but he wants to, as much for himself as for Emerson.

“I’m not sure exactly, but if you can be a little patient with me, maybe we can figure it out together.” His fingers curl around the back of Emerson’s neck. Jason wants to understand this all, to find the labels that Emerson craves, but he doesn’t have the answers yet. All he knows is that these feelings he’s got for Emerson are unlike anything he’s felt before, and maybe it’s because he’s a man or maybe it’s just because he’s Emerson.

“I—” Emerson starts, cut off by Mabel yelling from outside the photo booth, reminding them both exactly where they are right now.

“Smile boys.”

“What uh, what are we supposed to do?” Emerson asks.

“Smile,” Jason tells him, tugging Emerson as close as humanly possible, arm around his shoulders so he’s tucked completely into Jason’s side. He might not be able to do more than this, but having him pressed so close soothes something in Jason that itches to claim and discover. He might not have a label, but he sure as hell knows what he wants, and it’s Emerson.

The flash is bright, the timer on the screen counting down to signal the next photo. Jason moves quickly, positioning himself behind Emerson so his chin rests on his head, arms looped all the way around him in one of the awkward prom poses his kids do. It’s absolutely ridiculous really and makes Jason feel seventeen.

When the camera flashes, the countdown goes again.

“How many are there?” Emerson asks.

“Four,” Jason answers, because this is the same company the school rented from last year and he already knows the photo is going to print out on a shiny 4 x 6 when they’re done, with one photo in each corner. Photos of him and Emerson on their not-a-first-date. It makes Jason smile as he stares at Emerson, so caught up in appreciating his pretty face that he doesn’t pay attention to the timer or the third photo snapping.

“Oops,” Jason laughs, trying to imagine what the hell kind of expression he was making for that.

“Last one,” Mabel reminds them from outside.

Jason’s nerves rise as the time counts down. He wasn’t even this nervous before his first kiss when he was fifteen with Rebecca Andrews behind the bleachers. She’d tasted like bubblegum and smelled like sunshine and the kiss was horrible. Even still, it’d been special in the way first kisses could be and Jason wants that for Emerson, wants him to have something special to remember no matter what happens.

“Emmy.”

Emerson tips his head back to look up at Jason, a question in his eyes.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Oh,” Emerson’s mouth falls open, his tongue darting out to swipe over his bottom lip. “Yes.”

Without hesitation Jason’s hand settles on the side of Emerson’s face, marveling at how his palm covers so much of it. He doesn’t spend too long though, eager to get a taste of Emerson. Angling his head down he presses his lips to Emerson’s. His reaction is instantaneous, a shudder wracks his body while his fingers curl around Jason’s wrist.

Emerson’s lips are chapped, a hint of mint toothpaste in his breath as he exhales into Jason’s mouth. It’s surreal to be standing here, surrounded by lights and noises but only able to focus on the man in his arms. The kiss is chaste, and all too brief, but it rocks Jason to his core. A man, he is kissing a man and he likes it. He likes it a whole fucking lot.

There’s a bright flash from the photobooth camera as it takes their final picture; a reminder that their time here is limited but also that there will now be photo evidence of Jason’s sexual awakening.

Using every ounce of self control he possesses, Jason pulls out of the kiss. Immediately he regrets it, wanting to mold himself around Emerson once more, to chase the taste of mint on his breath and deepen the kiss. Lowering his forehead to Emerson’s, he presses one more quick kiss to his lips.

“Hey.”

Emerson’s eyes flutter open, and the flush of pleasure that spreads across his face makes Jason wish he could take Emerson home right now. He has no idea what he’d do with him, has no idea how to make another man feel good, but fuck, he wants to try.

“Was that okay?” Jason asks, pulling back enough he can get a good look at Emerson. His cheeks are flushed and the slow rise and fall of his chest is mesmerizing.

“Yes,” Emerson whispers.

“It was my first time kissing a man,” Jason says, and though Emerson already knows this, it’s exciting to say it out loud.

“That was my first kiss ever,” Emerson offers, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Did you like it?” Jason asks.

“I think I like everything when it’s with you, Jason.”

Uncaring who is outside waiting for a turn, Jason pulls Emerson into a hug. His arms slip around Jason’s back, the sunflower boutonniere slightly crushed between their bodies as they each hold on much tighter than is strictly necessary. Emerson’s hair tickles his nose as he buries his face in it, breathing him in.

He didn’t need a kiss to accept he liked men, but it sure as hell showed him one thing: whatever his feelings are for Emerson, they’re big. Bigger than anything he’s felt before, and he’s going to need to figure out what that means.