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A/N:Strae beta'd and prompted, show her some love!
How to Turn a Straight Guy Gay
Part 4
I'm beside myself with regret by the time I can no longer see Edward's car. He came to me, and I was in the lap of another man—fucking Emmett, of all men.
"Are you going to take this out on me?" Emmett asks.
I feel my shoulders sag down and I reach up to rub my eyes before I turn around. "No, Emm," I answer him. "It's my fault."
"Do you want me to go?"
I shrug. "Whatever, but you have to promise me one thing before you leave."
He sighs exaggeratedly and mumbles incoherently to himself before finally answering me. "Okay, Jasper, whatever you want."
"I want the pictures, and I want you to promise me that you will get rid of every single copy of them that you have, tonight. The ones on your phone first, then the ones on your computer, the printed off copies, the files you have saved on backup disks, the ones you have in your iPod, all of them. I want them all destroyed, immediately. Promise me."
It takes him a long fucking time to agree, but finally he does. "I'm only doing this because of what happened tonight. I feel like shit, especially considering the kiss didn't do anything for me."
"Really?" I ask, still shocked by the knowledge, though I'd certainly realized during that he wasn't really, really into it like I'd expected him to be.
"Of course, really. I say what I mean and I mean what I say, I'll get rid of the pictures, but it better be worth it, Jazz."
"Yeah, sure, that's not what I meant. The kiss seriously didn't do shit for you?"
He rubs his head like he's confused and nods. "It's weird. All this time I expected us to be all hot together, but there was just... nothing. No spark between us, you know? I could tell you weren't into it, but it's not even that. Even though it was you, it was still just a kiss for me. I don't know what happened, Jazzy, but I was kind of bored. That's the last thing I expected to be while making out with you."
"So is this unrequited shit between us over?"
"I'm gonna have to sleep on that one. I'm not knocking your kissing skills at all, you can kiss like a motherfucker, but yeah, just nothing. Weirdest shit ever. And I think I'll go, you look like you want to be alone right now. I don't really want to be here when you get pissed off at me for this, so I'll email you the pictures and obliterate the evidence on my side, then I'll probably cry myself to sleep."
I sigh and reach out to pat him on the shoulder. "I do appreciate it, Emmett, and I'm sorry that I will probably eventually want to kill you."
He just gives me a grim smile in return. He knows I'm not joking. It's likely that I will take this out on Emmett at some point—if I don't get Edward back, that is, and it's highly likely that that will be the outcome. I'm not sure what he would do if he ever saw me again. I assume he probably really hates me.
God, I fucking hate me.
I trudge back toward my house, only stopping to pick up what Edward left. My fucking graphite pencils, he brought me my graphite pencils. He probably wanted to talk to me, face-to-face, and there I was sucking on Emmett's tongue. Jesus.
It makes me wonder what would have happened if Emmett wouldn't have been here. That probably would have been bad though, too. I would have answered the door in my underwear, or naked if I was really feeling depressed—which I was—and looked like complete shit. He probably would have just left without a word. Still, that would have been better than him finding me straddling Emmett.
The worst part is that I can't even blame him for hating me, I deserve it. I lied to him, I lied to all of them. I was nothing but a no good fucking player.
I scoff and fall back into my bed, holding my graphite to my chest like they're a fucking piece of Edward somehow.
I never used to think of myself as a player, but now, shit, I don't think I can go back. I've spotted the flaw and I can't just ignore it. But even if I didn't realize how fucked up my little game was, I don't think I would be able to go back.
Edward fucking got to me, bad. And I don't know how long it's going to take for me to get over him.
– – –
A few weeks pass before I finally start to leave my house again. I have turned into a hermit who stares forlornly at a box of graphite pencils while I avoid my computer and the outside world like the fucking plague.
I haven't checked my email since before Edward brought me my pencils. I can't work up the courage to see him, even in pictures. I simply take Emmett's word that he did indeed send them and deleted the copies he had. Nothing bothers me more than the thought of someone else having something so intimate as nudey pictures of my Edward.
I'm obsessed and I fucking know it. It kills me every time I force myself not to send him a text or not to drive by his house on the way home from the grocery store.
I know he doesn't want to hear that I miss him, or that I have fallen in love with him, so I don't tell him, and it tears me to pieces. I want him to know. I want so badly to go to his house, to grab him by his perfectly chaotic fucking hair, and fucking kiss him like he is the last man on earth, because frankly, to me, he is. I want to tell him that I love him and that I need him because without him, I can't even fucking think straight, I can't see straight. It's like a part of me is missing and I don't know what to do.
But he doesn't want to know, and he doesn't feel the same way, and he doesn't try to contact me at all.
I have to force myself to get dressed and to leave the house, but I do it because I don't want to be a coward anymore. I know I probably won't ever look at the pictures, but I want to be able to check my email without feeling the need to cry. Getting out of the house altogether seems like it should be the first step in my recovery so that's what I start with.
I just drive around for a while the first night, because I don't know what else to do. I consider stopping at the gym, but I'm way too dressed up for that. I don't really need any groceries but I stop at the store anyway, and the contraceptive aisle taunts me the entire time.
I must be the unluckiest bastard ever because I run into Jessica and she's buying Edward's favorite cookies, so I know she must be shopping for him.
"Jasber," she gasps, and I ignore her like I can't see her right fucking there in front of me. "I no see you for so long, I think you die! Where you been, puta?"
I abandon my cart that has nothing but a bottle of olive oil and a Details magazine in it and practically run out of the store. I can hear Jessica calling me a 'puta' repeatedly as I flee and it makes my already broken heart shatter.
I even miss her obnoxiously bitchy attitude. She was always giving me shit about checking out Edward's ass. I really miss Edward's ass.
I cry myself to sleep and dream of bronze hair tickling my abdomen as my lover sleeps with his head against my stomach. I dream of my fingers running through the mess of colors and I gasp awake as dream-Edward looks up at me and smiles.
I'm never going to get over him.
– – –
I have to force myself to get out of my house day after day; I attend art shows and a few historical seminars in the area and it calms my mind, if only momentarily.
I finally work up the guts to open my email and I groan when I find more spam and porn than any one person should have in their inbox. I have to sift and sort through and when I spot Edward's name, I freeze. It's not an email from him, of course, it's from Emmett. It's his pictures, but the subject still makes me panic.
Edward Cums: A Picture Show
Did Emmett really have to make the subject so fucking enticing, and so fucking scary at the same time?
I draw in a deep breath and hold it as I finally open the fucking email.
Here are the pictures, asshole. I hope you put them to good use, because I'm going to miss them like you wouldn't fucking believe. I hate you so much right now.
EmmCart
Thank God, the pictures are in a zipped folder so I don't have to see them. I sigh out the breath I am holding loudly and save the email. I can't stand the thought of deleting them, but I can't bring myself to look at them either. If he doesn't want me to see his cock, then I will respect his wishes.
For now.
– – –
Several times I drove past Rogue's before I was finally able to talk myself into going in. It was our place, I had to go in there. If I was ever going to get past this, I needed to confront everything that reminded me of him.
The first night at Rogue's was more uncomfortable than anything else. It literally felt like I had to relearn how to go out again. I sat alone at a far table in the corner, just trying to stay calm enough not to start crying because everything fucking had him all over it.
The second night I went back was actually harder than the first. It was Open Mike night, which reminded me of Edward in itself, but then, like, three idiots decided to fucking sing Bad Boy by Inner Circle and I completely lost it. Edward's ringtone was that stupid fucking COPS theme song, and I always busted his balls for it. I elected to leave instead of going to cry in the bathroom. Either way, it was a fucking failure.
Night after night, I went back, and slowly but surely, I finally grew comfortable with my surroundings again. There were a lot of close calls over time; times when I would think I saw Edward out of the corner of my eye. I was able to teach myself this breathing ritual that calmed me down enough to think clearly—clear enough to realize that I was imagining him.
Tonight, I was even able to sit at a table with another man. I was feeling guilty for it still, but I was able to hold my own in a conversation with him despite that. I'm fairly sure he's gay, because he keeps giving me this little smile and I think he's flirting. I'm not nearly close enough to being ready to even think about dating yet, but I think it's healthy for me to talk to a man—a gay man. I've made myself promise that I will find myself a nice gay boyfriend and settle down, no more playing the straight boys. Or I'm just going to be alone forever, because I can't even look this gay guy in the eye without feeling like shit.
I miss Edward. I want Edward.
I look up at Jake—Jake? I think that's his name. Sounds close enough. I look up at him and he's staring at me expectantly.
"What? Sorry, I got distracted, can you run that by me again?" I say, having no idea what he's just said.
He looks a bit disappointed as he glances down at the table, but then he raises his eyes to me again and smiles. "I asked if you were single."
"Oh..." I breath. I don't know how to answer. The truth is obviously that I am as single as a dollar fucking bill, but I can't bring myself to tell him that. I am too attached to Edward to honestly be a real single man. "It's complicated," is my answer for his question.
"Well, it's not any of my business, I know, but does it have anything to do with that man at the bar who keeps glancing over here?"
"What?" I ask.
"That guy," he says, leaning forward, and I follow suit. "He keeps looking over here, at you actually, but he's caught my eye a few times, and if looks could kill..."
My stomach clenches and I turn without really thinking it through. I know it's probably Emmett or James, or anyone other than Edward, but I can't help but hope. And my hope isn't pointless, because Edward is sitting up at the bar, a bottle of beer gripped so tightly between his white knuckles that I'm sure it's going to shatter in his hand.
I quickly turn back around in my seat. I probably look like I've just seen a ghost, and I honestly feel like I have. I'm shaking and I can't breath, and Jake is asking me if I'm okay, but I don't know how to respond.
I knew there was a chance that I'd see him again someday, but I never expected it to be this soon. I thought he'd avoid Rogue's since I knew he'd want to avoid me. But he's here. He's fucking here.
I can't even look at him, though I desperately want to. I have to leave him alone. He doesn't want me.
Jake stands up abruptly and I look up at him. He's not looking at me at all, so I figure I've probably ruined it with him quite thoroughly now, but I don't give a shit. It's actually kind of a relief.
Suddenly, as abruptly as Jake had rose to his feet, I am being pulled to my own by my shirt collar.
My head is spinning and I have no idea what is happening, but I hear someone yell about taking their hands off me, and someone else yells about staying the fuck away from me and there is what sounds like a fist connecting with something hard.
I can't see straight, I can't breath, and I know it is because of Edward. Edward has me by the collar of my shirt and he's dragging me across the bar. I don't know where we are going, and I am scared of what he is going to do to me or say to me, but I stumble along with him anyway because I love him. I fucking love him and I'll let him beat the living shit out of me if it means he's going to touch me.
He thrusts me forward and I hit a wall. Something slams so loudly the sound reverberates around the room and I'm shaking so hard that my knees nearly buckle, but I don't move. His open palms slam against the wall on either side of my head and I cower before him. His jaw is as hard and solid as the wall behind me, rippling as he clenches and loosens it. His eyes are dark and dangerous and I can feel myself wanting to gravitate toward the pull he has over me. I want to fall into him. I want to fall into the dark and dangerous, the unknown.
"Why are you doing this to me?" he asks, his voice surprisingly quiet and soft compared to the charged way he is standing over me.
I can't answer. My brain seems disconnected from my body. Even if I could think of something to say to him, I don't know if I could make my lips move to form the words.
"Who is he?" he asks, not so quietly. This time the edge is there, his tone lethal as the look he has fixed on me. I tremble and again can't answer, and it seems to piss him off more. "Fucking answer me!" he yells and slams his hands against the wall again.
"I don't know," I gasp, shaking. "His name is Jacob, I just met him, I think he's gay."
"You think he's gay?" Edward asks hysterically, he laughs bitterly. "He has been eye-fucking you all night, you can bet your ass he's gay."
"I didn't notice," I say honestly.
"Jackson, are you okay?" I hear called from outside. I realize for the first time that we are in the handicapped bathroom stall at Rogue's. I momentarily wonder who the fuck Jackson is. I really don't think anyone else is in here. "Oh, shit, please answer me. Jackson, are you okay?"
Edward seems to realize the same moment I do that it is Jacob out there and I am apparently the guy he is looking for. His arms tense and the expression on his face turns absolutely fucking murderous. His nostrils flare and his body moves closer to mine before he pushes himself away from the wall.
I want to reach out for him, I'm terrified of what he's going to do, but I'm frozen against the fucking wall, too scared to touch him.
The door bounces off the wall with a thud when Edward yanks it open.
"Where is he?" I hear Jake ask darkly.
"That's none of your fucking business. I thought I told you to stay the fuck away from him. I guess I didn't make myself very clear."
"Jackson, are you okay?" Jake asks again.
I open my dry mouth to respond but Edward beats me to it. "His name is Jasper, you fucking dickhead, and he isn't interested in you, so I'll say this for the last fucking time. Keep your hands off of him and stay the fuck away."
"Listen, I don't know who the fuck you are or what the fuck your problem is, but we were having a nice time until he realized that you were here. He looked really fucking scared the second he saw you sitting there and you fucking dragged him away like a complete prick, so I just want to make sure he's okay. Okay?" Jake's voice gives towards the end, and I know I have to do something before Edward ruins his future by hurting this poor guy.
I close my eyes for a second and take a deep breath. I can do this.
I raise my hand to my face to make sure there aren't any tears there before slowly pressing away from the wall. I step through the door opening and find Jacob shoved up against the mirror, Edward's fist raised in front of his face. He looks ready to hit him, but Jake darts his wide eyes to me and visibly relaxes when he sees that I'm fine.
Physically, at least.
I meet Edward's eyes in the mirror and he stares back at me for a long moment. He releases Jake unexpectedly and Jake sags downward against the sinks, coughing slightly as he massages the skin on his throat.
"Get the fuck out of here and remember what I fucking told you," Edward growls.
Jake gives him a glare then his face softens as he looks at me. "Are you really okay? I'll leave my number—"
"No, you fucking won't," Edward cuts him off. He grabs Jake by the hair and forcibly shoves him through the door. After shoving the door shut behind him, Edward clicks the lock into place and doesn't look at me as he walks over to the sinks.
He turns a faucet on and runs his hands under the water, then rubs them over his face and into his hair. "Do you see what you've done to me?" he asks quietly, keeping his hands over his face.
"You were always pretty volatile," I say back bravely.
He scoffs, but doesn't deny it. "Are you with Emmett?" he asks suddenly, completely catching me off guard.
I start fucking laughing, but only until I realize that he's serious. "No," I answer firmly. I take a cautious step in his direction and when he doesn't seem to mind, I take another. "Edward, I was never with Emmett. What you saw, it was a one time thing that I only did because I had to. He bribed me, he had something I wanted."
"Yeah, a cock," Edward replies.
I don't hesitate to sucker punch him in the shoulder and he hisses and moves away. "Don't be a fucking prick," I scold.
He laughs and nods. "Sorry," he mumbles and rubs his shoulder. His face crumples then and he says, "No, no, I'm not. Why the fuck should I believe you? You lied to me."
I close my eyes to block out the hurt expression on his face, but it's already burned into my retinas and I can see it whether I look at him or not. "I did lie to you, and I'm sorry, Edward. I'm done lying now, and I know that you probably won't believe me, but I did what I did for you."
"You... No," he spat, sounding pissed off again. He apparently was pissed again, because he shoved me back against the wall, hard enough to make my head slam into it. "Don't you dare fucking tell me that you were shoving your tongue in his mouth for me. That's bullshit!"
I slowly open my eyes, and he quickly moves his away, refusing to look at me.
"I'm not lying to you anymore, Edward. I kissed Emmett because he had pictures of you. In the beginning it was only about me having the pictures, but in the end, that's not why I did it. Yes, I did want them, but fuck, after what happened, I couldn't even bring myself to look at them because I knew you wouldn't want me to. Emmett doesn't have them anymore, I do, and if you say the word, I'll delete them."
"What the fuck are you talking about? What pictures?"
"From a long time ago," I explain. "Emmett stole the pictures off of one of your old girlfriend's phones."
The realization hits him quickly. "Oh, fuck." His cheeks go pink and he closes his eyes. "Emmett has pictures of me jerking off?"
"No," I answer. "He did, but now I have them. But, I swear to you, Edward, I haven't looked at them and I'll delete them if you want me to."
"Why?" he inquires, finally looking me in the eye again.
"Because, they are yours, they're personal. I knew you wouldn't want me seeing them, so I respected that. I know it doesn't make up for the fact that I lied to you, but just know that I'm really sorry, and if I could take it all back I would. And..."
"What?" Edward asks.
I lick my lips then start to chew on the bottom one as I contemplate finishing my sentence. I decide that I have to say it, just once. If he rejects me, then he rejects me, and hopefully I'll be able to move on knowing that I said it.
"And I really care for you. I've missed you," I say.
His eyes lower slightly and he stares at the top of my shirt for a few awkward breaths until he speaks again. "This wasn't suppose to happen," he speaks quietly.
"I know, I'm sorry," I affirm.
"I like girls," he continues.
"I know. Maybe we can try to be friends again," I hear myself suggesting before I realize what it is that I'm actually fucking saying. I don't know what the fuck I'm thinking, I just know I don't want to lose him completely if I still have a chance. "I promise I don't have some fucked up ulterior motive and I'll never put you in an awkward situation. We can just be friends, I promise." Please. Please. Please!
"I don't think we can, Jasper. I don't think we can go back," he says.
I tuck my chin defensively, but it doesn't stop the breaking of my heart. Stupid, stupid hope. "That's... perfectly understandable," I assure him.
"I think I jinxed myself right from the beginning by insisting you were a girl," he says laughingly.
I'm confused for about seventeen seconds, then it clicks and my head rockets back, slamming against the hard ass fucking wall again. It hurts like hell since I've already hit it once and tears instantly fill my eyes.
Edward's eyes anxiously scan my face as he reaches his hands up into my hair. I tense and inhale as he presses his fingers against the sore spot on my skull and lightly starts to rub.
"You're going to give yourself a fucking concussion," he chastises.
I want to tell him that it's his fucking fault, but my mind is too busy reeling. What the fuck is he saying? I know my eyes are wide and my mouth is probably hanging open, but I can't contain my shock. Is he really fucking saying what I think he is? His eyes nervously move to the side and I still feel myself rudely gawking and scanning his face, trying to figure out what he is saying.
There's a three second pause where he gets this determined look on his face and I hold my breath, waiting for him to say it, whatever it is he's wanting to say, but he just drops to his knees.
What the fuck?
Then his hands are quickly undoing the front of my jeans and he's yanking my pants and underwear down my thighs. It literally takes three-fourths of a second for me to achieve a raging fucking hard-on. My dick comprehends what he's doing before my brain does—I guess for certain things, it's better to think with your little head.
"What the fuck are you doing?" I ask, though it is pretty fucking obvious what he plans on doing as he stares down my cock.
And then his hand is wrapped around it. And then his lips are wrapped around it. And I'm in fucking heaven.
Or my dick is in fucking heaven. My mind is too busy trying to catch the fuck up.
"Holy motherfucking Christ," I gasp.
How the fuck did my dick get in his mouth?
Who the fuck cares, were my dick's thoughts. No, no, no, this is so wrong, is the only thing running through my mind. And, as I had to remind myself, I am now thinking with my big head.
But my original cursing gasp seemed to spur him on. He took more of me into his mouth and I felt him gag the second I hit his throat.
"Jesus, Edward, stop," I say frantically. I gently grip his shoulders and push him away. If my dick could scream, it would be doing so now, in protest.
"What?" he asks defensively. He stands up and I reach for him, but he shrinks away.
"What the hell are you thinking?" I wonder aloud. I still don't understand how the hell my dick ended up in his mouth.
His face turns a furious shade of pink and he looks beyond hurt. "You don't want me?" he asks resignedly.
A disbelieving laugh bursts from my lips before I can stop it and his eyes pop open, surprisingly watery. I glance down suggestively before muttering, "I think the answer speaks for itself."
His eyes follow and then he's staring at my cock. There are several times when I think he is going to look away, but he doesn't. As if I wasn't already hard enough from him putting my dick in his mouth, now he's staring at it and the blood pulsing through the organ just turns painful. He looks like he's at war with himself, caught somewhere between wanting to look away and not being able to. I solve his problem for him by stuffing myself back into my pants.
"We need to take this slow," I explain, as he starts to look sort of upset again. "Maybe go back to being just friends so we can get comfortable with each other again. I need you to be able to trust me before we can, uh, you know, take it to the next level. I mean, if you want to, someday. I don't want you to feel pressured into this. If you decide that you want me, you're going to have to feel secure with me, and right now, you don't. I can't do this if it's not right for you too."
"Why do you keep suggesting that we go back to being just friends?" he asks.
I throw my hands up in frustration. "I have no fucking idea, because I'm a cock-blocker?"
The smirk that adorns his face after I say that makes me want to weep. I've fucking missed it so much. "Can I kiss you?" I hear myself say all breathily.
His smirk widens further. "Thought you just said we are going to be just friends."
I nearly snark back at him, but a vicious pound on the door cuts me off. "This is security, open this door."
"Shit," I hiss.
"Want to have some fun?" he asks, this devious little glint in his eye that makes me positive that I want to say yes, no matter the consequences.
I nod and he reaches for my hair and starts rubbing my head wildly, then pulling his long fingers through it 'til it is all standing on end. I'm confused, to say the least, and wondering if I just got myself some weird, kinky boyfriend.
He starts doing the same to his own hair then he undoes the top four buttons of his shirt and unzips his pants. I finally catch on and untie my shoes and he snickers.
God, I love him.
I rip my shirt off and flip it inside-out.
"I'm coming in," yells security, then the door is being unlocked from the outside. I quickly pull my shirt back over my head and try not to laugh.
In barges the man who has been yelling at us and behind him is Jacob. I hear Edward growl, and I giggle to myself like a schoolgirl. I grab one of his wrists, just to be on the safe side, and he entwines our fingers, squeezing my hand roughly.
"Why was the door locked?" the man demands.
I bite my lip to keep from laughing and I can see Edward smirking from the corner of my eye. The man watches Edward use his free hand to zip his pants up and I think it finally clicks.
He steps into the bathroom and lets the door close behind him. "Look, I don't want to have to report this, so can you please just keep that shit in the privacy of your home?"
Jacob pushes the door open before we can answer and Edward tenses behind me. I step in front of Edward as he tries to move forward and I catch his other wrist as he goes to raise his hand.
Fuck me, he's a jealous, over-protective little bastard.
I can feel Edward pressing himself against my backside and his breath is puffing into my hair in short bursts. It makes me so fucking hot that I seriously start to get a little incoherent.
The security guard clears his throat, drawing my attention back to his question.
"Oh, yeah, sure, absolutely. It'll never happen against."
"Great," he says, sounding sarcastic. He turns to leave anyway, and Jake holds the door open for him, but doesn't follow.
"I'm going to fucking kill him," Edward breathes down my neck. I shudder and unintentionally shove my ass back against his groin, which makes him tense.
Well, babe, that's what you get when you talk dirty to me.
Gathering my bearings, I look up at Jacob. "Jake, I'm sorry. Thank you so much for making sure that I was okay. I promise, I am. I'd like to make it up to you."
"What?" Edward gasps and I tighten my grip on his wrists. "No you fucking won't. You're not making anything up to him."
"I'd like to give you the number of a friend of mine," I go on, ignoring Edward's panic attack behind me.
"Oh," Edward sighs. I jump when his lips touch the back of my neck. "Sorry," he whispers.
This time it's completely intentional when I shove my ass against him, and he chuckles.
I swear to God, I'm not going to make it a week without fucking him...
"If you've been here before, you might have seen him. He's really tall and built, he has dark brown, really curly hair and his eyes are shockingly blue."
"He's gay?" Jake asks in disbelief, sounding as if he knows exactly who I'm talking about.
I nod. "Yes, his name is Emmett, and I'm sure he'd love to meet you."
I willingly give Jake Emm's information and hope that it'll make up for the trouble I've caused for both of them.
After Jake leaves, I pull my shirt off and grin when I catch Edward watching. I flip it back the right way, then kneel down and start retying my shoe laces. "You should probably fix your shirt," I suggest.
Truthfully, I'd rather strut my fine ass out of this place with Edward's arm around me and a shit-eating grin on my face while he looks like he'd been thoroughly fucked, but I'm worried what will happen if someone comments on us being 'homos'.
I'm not naïve, and I know we are going to have a long, hard road ahead of us. I'm willing to work through it, I just hope that he will be too.
"We should go somewhere private so we can talk. The men's room at a bar isn't exactly a good place to be working this out."
He nods in agreement. "My place or yours?" he asks.
"Yours, preferably. At least there I won't have to sleep on a couch if it gets too late."
"Scared to share a bed with me, Whitlock?" he asks, jokingly.
I want to laugh, I do. But I can't because I remember the last time we slept in the same house, and the hurt comes rushing back.
"You're the one who accused me of rape," I deadpan.
The smirk that had been on his face melts away like I've just backhanded him. "Jasper..." he says desperately. "I'm so sorry, I never actually thought—"
"Let's talk about this at your place, okay?" I ask, cutting him off as gently as possible.
He nods slowly. "Are you sure? I mean, are you sure that you want this? If you only want to be friends, I can do that, if it's really all you want."
"Hey," I say as I start to lose him. He's looking everywhere but at me, and this is why I want to get him home. I need him to be somewhere he's comfortable, not a fucking bar bathroom. It's only making this shit worse. I know he's feeling more than just a little bit confused and insecure right now. "I'm sure. Let's go."
Edward needs to use the bathroom, so I leave ahead of him and tell him I'll meet him at his place. He looks a little worried, like I might be lying and I won't meet him there, but he's crazy if he really thinks that. I guess he really doesn't know that I love him, yet.
"I'll see you in a few," I promise. He nods, still looking a little reluctant, and watches me as I back out the door.
– – –
I wait for him at his place on the front patio, and he shows up literally just a few seconds after I get there. The relief on his face is obvious and I smile at him reassuringly. I am not going anywhere, he doesn't need to worry. When I smile, he shyly looks down at the ground and walks past me. I wonder what he's being shy about now, it's not like we're going in the house to have sex or something, we need to talk. I doubt I'll even try to kiss him tonight, though I know I'll want to and I'll probably think about doing it a lot, but I was serious when I said we should take it slow. Now, if he kisses me, that will be a different story completely.
Edward unlocks the door and glances at me over his shoulder. I once again try to smile reassuringly, I hope he doesn't think I'm being creepy.
Finally, he swings the door open and lets me inside. I kick my shoes off and immediately head for the couch, like this is my home or something. Honestly, it feels more like home than my own home does these days. I really missed being here—mostly because it's Edward place. I also really miss the awesome pool, and seeing Edward in it.
"Would you like something to drink?" Edward calls and I change my path and head towards the kitchen to meet him there.
I catch him pouring a shitload of vodka into a glass of orange juice, and he has the decency to at least look really guilty when he notices I'm there.
"I need something to take the edge off," he mutters, popping the cap back on and moving to the freezer to put the bottle away.
I reach around him and pull the fridge open to get a bottle of water. I notice that he doesn't really flinch away from me, but I can tell he's holding his breath. I don't know what he's expecting me to do? Grab his dick and tell him we need to fuck already? I don't get it.
I find the water, shut the fridge, and turn to go back to my intended location. As I turn though, Edward catches my wrist and stops me. "You know I don't talk when I get nervous, and you know I'm really fucking nervous right now, but if you're going to be all fucking pissy about it, I don't have to drink."
"Do what you have to do," I reply lightly, shaking him off of my wrist.
"Great," he says, turning back to his cup, "my first hissy fit."
While he's turned, I walk away. Instead of heading for the couch, I decide to go up the stairs. I'm about halfway up before I hear Edward cursing to himself and heading in the opposite direction as me. From where I am, I'm at a vantage point and I can see basically everything he does, so I stop and watch from the second floor landing.
"Jasper, I didn't—" he starts to say apologetically but then he realizes that I'm not where he expected me to be.
He turns and heads towards the bathroom and does a complete loop around the stairs, calling, "Jasper?" once, expectantly.
I don't answer him, because I'm being petty and I can't fucking believe he said I was throwing a hissy fit. I'll show him a fucking hissy fit.
He does another loop around the stairs, this time I hear him go out the backdoor to check for me by the pool. When he doesn't find me there, he comes racing back into the entry area and runs right for the door. His hand is buried into his hair, and I think he's probably freaking out a little bit that I've left because of what he said. He yanks the door open and looks outside, and visibly relaxes when he sees my car is still in his drive, but then his shoulders stiffen and he looks downright fucking pissed, even from behind.
"Jasper!" he calls angrily.
He slams the door and turns around, and his eyes dart up to mine. "Fucking prick," he yells, ripping his hand from his hair to throw in my direction, to show how angry he is. I'm not impressed. "I'm not fucking six years old, I don't fucking play hide and go fucking seek anymore. Couldn't you just fucking answer me?"
I raise one eyebrow scornfully and he basically withers before my eyes. "Okay, fine, I get it, I was being an ass. I'm sorry."
He starts in my direction, climbing the stairs slowly, and completely freezes halfway up. His eyes dart up, scanning the hall on either side of me like something is going to pop out and get him.
"Why are we going upstairs?" he asks.
Ah. He thinks I'm going to take his beloved virginity already. Silly boy. "I'm getting past one of your 'Do Not Enter' signs tonight," I tell him, just to fuck with him a little bit—it's the only fucking we're going to be doing for a while.
I don't wait for him to respond to that and I turn towards his bedroom, which just happens to be in the same direction as my actual destination: The Secret Room.
It's not like it's actually a secret room or something, but in all the time I'd spent at his house, he'd always avoided the third floor. I don't know why, but I assume it's because it's personal to him. So that's where I'm going.
I take a seat on the fluffy blanket and pillow bed on the floor and make myself comfy. It takes him about ten minutes to either figure out what I meant or to get the courage to face me up here. I'm assuming the latter, though, because he's pretty fucking smart and pretty fucking cowardly sometimes.
"Why are you up here?" he asks.
"Because, it's your personal space and I want to get in your personal space."
His face turns red and he grits his teeth. "Would you fucking stop with the jokes?"
"What jokes?" I ask back, the picture of innocence.
"The fucking butt sex jokes," he says through tight lips.
"Butt sex?" I repeat, and his face turns even redder. "Anal? Dirty digging? Backdoor action? Ass ravaging? Fudge packing?"
"Oh my fucking God, Jasper, stop!" he yells. I don't think he could look anymore embarrassed.
"You wanted a fucking hissy fit," I challenge.
He sighs. "Didn't you already fucking punish me for that?"
"Baby, I haven't even started throwing a 'hissy fit' yet."
His eyes widen and dart towards me when I call him 'baby'. I'm not sure if he likes it or not, but I frankly don't give a shit right now. He's being a baby, whether I meant it as an endearment is up for him to decide. He appears to soften, so I take it that he is okay with me calling him it.
He is carrying his glass of mostly vodka, and it appears that he hasn't drank a whole lot yet. He sets it down on a table and slowly moves closer to where I'm currently laying. He sits down next to me with his back against the wall. We both remain silent for a few long minutes, then I speak.
"Why haven't you brought me up here?"
"Like you said, it's my personal space," he replies.
"That doesn't answer my question."
He sighs. "I wasn't ready to bring you up here," he answers.
"Okay, better. Would you like me to leave?"
"No," he says quickly.
"I just mean would you rather I wasn't up here, would you like me to leave this room?" I clarify, in case he thought I meant leave altogether.
"No," he repeats. "I don't want you to leave at all, I want you here."
"Okay." There is a quiet pause before I ask, "So you play the piano?"
"Sometimes," he replies.
"I've never heard you," I persist.
"That's because I've never played for you," he says, more cynically than anything.
I sigh and sit up, putting my back to Edward. "Maybe I should go," I suggest.
"You fucking know I'm like this," he snaps, "so fucking stop making me feel so fucking guilty. Don't act like you don't know I'm an insensitive asshole."
"I'm fucking tired, Edward, I should have just fucking went home. I'm sorry, but I think it's better if we put this off until later. We both need a little time alone, I think."
"No," he says defiantly. "There are like seventeen fucking bedrooms in this house, find one and sleep here."
"Why?" I ask. "So you can accuse me of something fucking heinous again? We need to be alone, apart from each other, to think. You don't trust me, at all, and I can't even fucking stand the way you've been watching me all night. You act like I'm going to be waiting around every fucking corner with my dick out, ready to stick it in you.
"I'm not a fucking monster, I know I'm the bad guy in our situation, but fuck, Edward, I never meant to hurt you like I did. We both need to take a step back and breathe. You still have my number, you can call me whenever you are ready, but for now, I think it's best if we just give each other a little space."
"I don't want you to go," he says.
I sigh. "I know, Edward. But I also know why you don't want me to go, even if you won't come out and say it. You don't want me to go because you're scared I'm not going to come back. You don't want me to go because you don't trust me not to do something behind your back. I want you to want me to stay, not to not want me to go, which is why I do have to leave right now."
"I don't understand how you leaving is going to make anything better," he says.
I turn towards him and offer him a small, tired smile. "It will, because when you call me, it'll let me know that you want me to come back because you want me here. And I will come back, not just because you want me to, but because you are the man I want to be with, the only man. So, goodnight, Edward."
He doesn't say anything as I stand and start to walk away.
My head hurts and my eyes are blurry and I just want to go to sleep. I love him, and I know I can be patient, but tonight, I seriously need to get some sleep. I trust him enough to believe he'll call when he's ready.
I'm just unlocking my car doors when my phone rings. I pull it out of my pocket and see Edward's names flashing on the screen. I turn around and look up at the huge window wall and see him standing there with his phone pressed to his ear, staring down at me.
I open the phone and bring it to my ear.
"Come back," he says.
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