A/N - Hey guys!

Just wanted to thank you for your comments, and also to say if you haven't read Jasper's version of these events, you should. For no other reason than because I'm shamelessly self-promoting, and also, Jazz's side of the story is much further along in the timeline.

I've been writing this out in the sun, enjoying several glasses of Pimms, and I may have overindulged slightly, so apologies for any spelling mistakes/grammar mistakes that I haven't caught.

Two

"Edward…" My mom's sing-song voice rouses me from sleep. I groan and pitch forward, burying my face in the pillow. "Edward… time to wake up, sleepyhead."

"Don't wanna," I grumble, and clutch at the comforter when I can feel her trying to gently tug it away.

"You've got school in an hour," Mom tells me, as though that'll actually be incentive for me to get my ass in gear.

"Not going."

"Yes, you are. Come on, is it really so bad?" She reaches over to brush back my hair, the way she always used to when I was little.

I consider her question. School isn't terrible. I mean, it's not quite what I'm used to, but it's not awful. People are friendlier than in New York, but I don't really make the same effort back. In the near month since senior year started, I've made a ton of acquaintances, but no actual friends.

I kind of prefer it that way, mostly.

Mom continues to gently prod me in the ribs through my duvet, and I twist away from her, sitting up with a groan. "Goddamn it. I'm up, okay? See?" I throw back the covers and slide off the mattress, straightening up.

She just flashes me a dimpled smile and says the three words that make regaining consciousness worthwhile. "I made pancakes."

I jump in the shower, brush my teeth and throw on some clothes quickly, practically racing down the stairs as soon as I catch the first whiff of my mom's blueberry pancakes. Maggie and Dad are already at the table – Dad's drinking coffee and cutting Maggie's pancake into little squares. He glances up at me and grins.

"Morning, son."

"Hey," I cover my mouth to stifle a yawn. "How come you're not at the hospital already?"

"My shift starts at ten," he responds. "So, I said to your mom I'd take Maggie to school."

I nod, just as Mom plates up my breakfast and hands it to me. "Thanks, Mom." I drop into the chair beside Mags and begin scarfing down my breakfast. Mom sets a cup of coffee down beside me, too. "Is this leaded?"

She rolls her eyes. "As if I'd insult you by giving you decaf."

Maggie leans over in her chair to poke me with the fork that Dad has just given back to her. I mock-frown in her direction. "What are you poking me for, squirt?"

"Teddy, Mommy says that you're gonna come get me from school today."

"Oh, she did, did she?" I glance up at Mom for confirmation. She gives me an apologetic shrug.

"I have a conference call with some interior designer friends back in the city, and I knew that you had a free period last thing."

I sigh theatrically, and then turn back to my baby sister. Her gray eyes are stretched wide as she regards me. "Looks like I am."

"Yay. I like it when you drive me places. Will you get me a razz-be slush like last time?"

"Raspberry," I correct automatically, and then I frown. "Hey! Didn't we promise we wouldn't tell anyone about that, Mags?"

Her eyes widen even further. "Oops. Sorry."

Dad sighs. "Edward, you know she's not supposed to have that much sugar. She ends up bouncing off the walls. Sort of like you when you were a child, actually."

"I know, Dad, sorry. In my defense, though, she swore to keep it a secret."

"That's not a defense, honey," Mom points out, now stacking the dishwasher with the used up pans from the pancakes. "Asking a six-year-old to lie to her parents is pretty much an admission of having done something wrong."

I fix Maggie with a reproachful look. "I'm never getting you processed sugar again, you little tattle-tale."

She pouts adorably.

My school day passes the same way as the last twenty-odd schooldays have passed. As a complete non-event.

That is, until lunchtime.

I'm sitting under my usual tree, reading my dog-eared, tattered copy of The Shining for, like, the hundredth time, and I've just got to the bit where all the topiary animals at the Overlook start coming to life, when a shadow falls across my book, obscuring the words for a moment.

I glance up, and nearly have a heart-attack, because I'm looking into the ridiculously handsome, tan face of Jasper Hale. He's watching me with something akin to apprehension in his deep blue eyes, and I'm not sure what that's about.

It's the first time he's properly sought me out. Other than a few words exchanged, we've spent no time together at all since Lauren Mallory's party. I still think about him constantly, though, and not just when I'm alone and horny in bed. It's just… never-ending. I can't get him out of my head. You could probably crack open my skull and pour bleach into my brain, and it still wouldn't erase the image of him burned there.

I'm obsessed, and I'm very, very aware of it. The crazy thing is, sometimes I could swear that I can see him looking at me out of the corner of his eye, but every time I turn to check, his gaze is trained elsewhere. I think it's probably wishful thinking on my part.

Still, an out-of-this-world hot boy is actually standing over me right now, looking like he wants to have a conversation, so I muster up a convincingly confident grin and say, "Jasper. I'd been wondering when you were gonna come and talk to me." I close my book over and set it down in the grass, so that he knows he has my undivided attention.

"You were wonderin' when I was gonna come and talk to you?" Good God, that accent… it's almost worth moving to Texas just to hear Jasper Hale speak. He sits down in the grass beside me, looking all countrified in his scruffy red Converse and worn-out jeans and plaid – yeah, he's actually wearing plaid – shirt. If there's such a thing as hick-chic, Jasper rocks it.

"Well, yeah. After I spoke to you at that party, I figured that you'd come and talk to me on, like, the first day back. But when you didn't, I decided I'd probably freaked you out." I shrug at him, trying not to look as though I'm disappointed by our lack of communication. "I knew you'd get over it eventually, though."

He frowns at me, looking all confused. "You didn't freak me out."

I raise an eyebrow. Most guys would be pretty freaked out by some strange boy cornering them. "No?"

"Alright," he says, giving me a sheepish smile. "You might've freaked me out a little bit. Not a lot, though. I didn't come and talk to you after that because…" he trails off, playing with the hem of his shirt, like he's uncomfortable about something.

"Because…?" I'm too curious not to prompt him.

"Well, because I didn't really know what to say to you. You're… cooler than I am."

I look at him incredulously for a full minute, but he's still staring avidly at the edge of his shirt, so he doesn't see. I can't help the derisive snort that escapes me, and then he glances up. Wow, his eyes are really blue from this distance. "For real?"

"Yeah." He grins, seeming to have broken through his earlier awkwardness. Probably because I'm so taken aback. "I mean, you're all edgy and different and from, like, the most awesome city on the planet. It's kinda intimidatin'. I felt like a bit of a dumb jock."

I grin at him. I'm beyond flattered, and he's just too fucking cute for words. "I don't think you're a dumb jock. I mean, I know you're a jock, and all that, but I don't think you're dumb."

"It's not like you'd know, though," Jasper argues. "I mean, like you said, we ain't exactly spent all that much time hangin' out."

"Try any time," I counter. "But I've listened to you talking in History class. You're a lot smarter than you give yourself credit for. In fact… you hide it well, Jasper, but I have this theory that you're actually a total brain." And I fully believe that. I don't let the accent or the colloquially bad grammar fool me for one second – Jasper Hale is a really smart guy.

A really smart guy who's just turned bright pink. Aw, he's blushing! The pink tinge to his golden skin is absolutely, categorically the most adorable thing I've ever seen. And then he goes right ahead and puts himself down. "Not likely."

"It is likely!" I shift on the grass so that I'm facing him properly, making a conscious effort to keep my volume down. I tend to start shouting without realizing it when I'm passionate about something. "I bet if you actually tried, you'd ace your SATs. I bet you could go Ivy League."

A slow, shy grin spreads across his face at my words, and my heart kind of does a funny little fluttering thing in my chest. Huh. If Seth could see how much of a girl I've turned into over the local quarterback… he'd probably bust a gut laughing.

Jasper's gaze focuses in on something over my shoulder. I resist the urge to crane my neck around to look, but I capitalize on his distraction in order to drink him in with my eyes. His honey-blond hair looks like gold where the sunlight refracts off it, and it really sets off his tan. His chiseled jaw flexes each time he swallows, and there's a slight shadow of stubble creeping across it, like he forgot to shave this morning. It's hot.

Then, jerking me out of my blatantly lustful thoughts, he elbows me in the ribs. "Looks like you got yourself some admirers there, Cullen."

I turn to what he'd been looking at, to find two girls of about sixteen shooting shy glances back at us over their shoulders. I laugh, because there's no way they'd be looking at me when I'm sitting beside someone as unbelievably hot as Jasper. "I think they were probably staring at you." I elbow him back, and immediately notice how solid his muscles are. Yum.

"They totally weren't!" Jasper protests, looking horrified. "Courtney Stanley wouldn't look at me like that, anyhow. She's Jasper-hating-Jessica's sister."

Ha! What? "Jasper-hating-Jessica?"

Jasper grimaces at me. "It's a long story."

Well, he can't just leave it there. I'm an insatiably curious person by nature, so I just pick up my sunglasses that have been lying in the grass behind me, unused, and slip them onto my face, tilting my head back against the tree. "Then I guess it's lucky we've still got forty minutes of lunch left."

Jasper frowns, like he's trying to work out how best to phrase his answer. "Well… Jessica's my ex. I kinda dumped her at the spring fling. In front of everyone. She didn't take it real well, and she's hated me ever since." He pauses. "Huh. Apparently that story isn't as long as I thought."

I can't help but laugh. The boy is unintentionally funny. "So you call her Jasper-hating-Jessica? I like it. It's catchy." Then I ask the question that I really want an answer to, because it might put an end to the hazy question-mark that is Jasper's sexual orientation. Well, at least, how I perceived it at the party, anyway. "Why'd you break up with her?"

He considers for a long time, brow furrowed. "I just… wasn't into her. Like, I was when we first started goin' out, but after a while, I just kinda got…"

"Bored?" I surmise.

"Yeah."

"It happens sometimes." I half-shrug at him. Lord knows, I've been bored with a couple of my exes. Though, back when I thought I was straight, I was never bored with Claire. More terrified out of my wits that she'd actually try and touch me.

"What about you? You got a girl back in New York?" Jasper asks brightly.

Oh. My. God.

He's kidding, surely. I hook one finger over the edge of my shades and slide them down my nose to give him a withering look. He seems nonplussed.

"You're kidding, right?" I say.

I've honestly never seen a person look so confused in my life. "Um, no?"

Holy shit, he actually doesn't know that I'm gay. I don't know how that's possible. Okay, well, maybe I was more overt in New York, but even toned-down me is still… well… pretty obvious. I grin at him. "No, then. I haven't got a girlfriend in New York. Never did."

"Oh. Okay. Maybe you'll have a bit better luck here, then?"

I burst out laughing. It's been an effort trying to hold it in ever since the whole Jasper-hating-Jessica thing, but his innocent enthusiasm just tips me over the edge. Once I've calmed down, I shake my head at him ruefully. "You Southerners act like you've all just hatched."

He sweeps my enigmatic comment under the rug like a pro. "Alright. You know, my buddy Mike is havin' a party this weekend."

"Oh yeah?" Talk about an abrupt subject-change.

He studies me for a moment. "You wanna come with me?"

"Are you asking me out?" The question slips out before I can stop it, and I internally curse myself when I see his appalled expression. Well, at least that answers any lingering questions I have about his sexuality. Jasper is, sadly, straight, because he's looking at me like he has no idea how I'd ever draw that conclusion from what he said. I decide to throw him a bone, because he looks so damn uncomfortable. "Relax, Jasper, I'm just kidding. Sure, though, the party sounds like fun."

He nods, and his expression seems to melt into one of utmost relief. I'm pretty crushed – I was so, so hoping that my prayers would actually be answered, but no joy. Life sucks. I pick up my book again, and he seems to take this as a dismissal.

"Bye," he mumbles, and heads back towards the cafeteria with his hands in his pockets and his head slightly down. I watch him go wistfully.

Don't turn your nose up, Cullen, I remind myself. Straight or not, he asked you to go to a party. He's trying to be your friend.

And, I mean, really, who could refuse a guy like that?

"He spoke to me, Alice," I sigh, sitting up on my duvet and clutching my cell to my ear. I can hear Maggie downstairs, throwing a hissy fit because Mom won't let her wear her 'princess dress' for dinner. (Unsurprising, seeing as it's actually a flower girl dress for Carmen and Eleazar's wedding in April). Her shrill wails are grating on me, so I spring off the mattress and walk over to slam the door.

"Who spoke to you?" Alice asks in my ear, and I notice that her Manchester accent has softened slightly from her time in London. She sounds much more polite. Of course, I don't let that fool me into thinking that she actually is any politer than she used to be. She might be at a fancy college, but she's still Alice.

I flop back down onto my bed. "Jasper Hale."

"Who's he, when he's at home?"

I laugh at the expression. "He's the local golden boy. He's the quarterback of the football team, and he might just be the most gorgeous guy in existence."

I can almost hear Alice rolling her eyes down the phone. "Teddy, you are such a cliché. You fancy the quarterback? Really?"

I shrug, even though she can't see it. "Alice, if you could see him, you'd understand. Believe me."

"What part of 'lesbian' don't you understand, Ted?"

I laugh. "You can still appreciate the view, surely. Like, I mean, I'm hardly going to get it up for your girlfriend, but even I can see that she's stunning."

"Vicky's a babe. She's also my ex girlfriend, now."

"Oh, no," I say, though I'm not surprised. Those two are off and on more times than a fucking light switch. "What happened?"

"The usual. Volcano Vicky erupted at a party, embarrassed the fuck out of me, and when I called her on it, she told me that we were done." She pauses, and I hear the unmistakable flick of her lighter, and then the sound of her taking a drag on her cigarette. It makes me crave a smoke. "Whatever, though, I'm over it."

"Yeah, until next time," I mutter.

"Tell me about this Jasper, then," she says, in a resigned sort of way. "What does he look like?"

"Blond. Tan. Dark blue eyes. Awesome body."

"Be more pedestrian, Teddy," she tuts, but she's chuckling. "You've always had a thing for blonds."

"You can't count your friend in that," I put in.

"What, Alec? Why not? He's blond, you kissed him."

"I was drunk!"

"He's my roommate now, by the way. Did I tell you that?"

"No." I pause, digesting this unpleasant information. Alec had been a drunken mistake at Alice's nineteenth birthday. Well, he'd been a drunken mistake for me. He seems to be under the impression that we could actually have something going on. Never. Gonna. Happen. "I'm not coming to visit you until you move."

"It's not that bad! I think he's seeing someone, so you can chill your beans, boy."

"Okay," I concede. "Then I might still come and see you."

"So, this Jasper guy… you like him?"

I blow out a breath. "I don't know how anyone could not like him, Ali. He's… he's just incredible. And it's not just the way he looks, either. He's honestly one of the nicest people I've ever met in my life."

"Nice, Teddy?" Alice laughs. "You don't do 'nice'. 'Nice' isn't even in your vocabulary. You're an unrepentant dickhead. Don't get me wrong, I love that about you, but I don't see you hitting it off with someone who is nice."

"I'd be willing to be a bit nicer, if he was interested," I say, with complete seriousness. "But I don't think he is. I'm pretty sure that he's straight, and he doesn't even know that I'm gay, so I don't know how he'll react when he finds out."

"If he's as nice as you say he is, I'm sure he'll just roll with it. Let me ask you a question – would you want to be his friend, even knowing that nothing will come of it?"

I think back to his declaration that I'm cooler than him. The faint blush on his cheeks when I told him he's smarter than he gives himself credit for. "Yes, Alice. I want to be his friend, regardless."

When I arrive at Mike Newton's party on Saturday, I have to anxiously check that my hair isn't too chaotic in the reflection in one of the car windows in the driveway. I smooth down my emerald green sweater nervously, and let myself into the house.

Jessica Stanley – or Jasper-hating-Jessica, because I actually prefer that nickname – waves to me enthusiastically as I pass her in search of her hated ex-boyfriend, and I give her a fleeting one in return. I stick my head around the kitchen door, but Jasper's not in there, so I'm just about to duck out when I notice someone out of the corner of my eye.

She's tall, slender, tan and blonde. If I was straight, I would already be making my way over to her and trying to flirt my way into her pants. I notice that she's talking to pretty, clumsy Bella Swan, so I figure she must be a junior, too.

None of that is what makes me stare, though.

No, I'm staring, because this girl is like… a female version of Jasper. She tosses her hair back and turns, catching my eye. A second later, she waves me over.

Intrigued, I obey her summons. Up close, her eyes are an insanely cool color. Almost purple, they're so blue. Kind of like Jasper's, actually, except a couple of shades lighter. Violet, rather than indigo.

"You're the new kid, right?" she drawls, giving me the once-over. "Edward Cullen?"

Bella and I both nod in confirmation, and I hold out my hand. "Yeah, that's me."

She eyes my extended hand for a moment, and then takes it. "Rosalie Hale. You're, like, real cute, Edward. Seriously. Don't tell my boyfriend I said that, though, cause he'll break that pretty face of yours."

Hale? Is she related to Jasper? That would certainly explain the resemblance. "Who's your boyfriend? Just so I know."

"Emmett McCarty," she declares, with a very Jasper-like smile, only hers has a slightly more dangerous edge to it that I can't help but like. "He's on the football team. So's my brother, so don't try anythin'." She winks. I laugh.

"Your brother?"

She confirms my suspicions a second later. "Jasper. The quarterback? C'mon, you musta heard of him! You're a senior, right?"

"Yeah," I say. "And I have heard of him. As a matter of fact, he's the one who invited me tonight. I was actually looking for him, just now."

"Oh," Rosalie smiles. "Well, he's in the other room." She points. "All the football team are talkin' about graduation or some shit. I don't like listenin' much, cuz it makes me kinda depressed to hear Em talkin' about when he's gonna leave."

"Oh, okay." I smile. "Thanks."

"Enjoy the party, Edward," Rosalie says. Then she turns back to Bella, who flashes me a smile before they launch back into their previous conversation. I catch the gist – they're talking about new cheer uniforms.

Turning my back on them, I make my way through to the room that Rosalie had indicated, and sure enough, my heartbeat starts to accelerate as I see Jasper, lounging back in a chair in a fitted white t-shirt and badly ripped jeans, clutching a beer in one hand and nodding along to whatever Mike Newton is saying.

I approach, unnoticed, just as dark-haired, thickset Emmett McCarty – Jasper's sister's boyfriend, as I've recently learned – says "So, Jazz, what's your deal for when we're finally done with this high school bullshit?"

Jasper answers without thinking, in that lazy drawl that makes my cock twitch in my jeans. "I think I'm gonna go to New York to college. Maybe major in European History or somethin'. That way I might even get a year abroad. That'd be cool."

They all look at him like he's just sprouted another head and started to recite French poetry or something. I, on the other hand, am totally impressed.

Emmett leans forward in his chair, surveying Jasper like he's sickening for something. "You mean, you don't wanna stay in Texas? You wanna go off to some pretentious college and memorize a bunch of facts and dates about stuff that happened on another continent for four years? You wanna go to some random place in Europe where you don't even speak the fuckin' language?"

Yeah, because no one in their right mind would ever do that, I think sarcastically. Jasper's looking sort of like he wishes he'd never opened his mouth, so I decide to put in my two cents.

"I think that's a fucking awesome idea." Jasper turns at the sound of my voice, and the look of relief that saturates his dark blue eyes makes my heart stutter. He's glad I joined in. I pull out a chair and sit in it backwards, uninvited. I then focus my attention on Jasper, which, let's face it, is where my attention wants to be, anyway. "Where would you go? In Europe, I mean. If you could choose?"

His grateful look intensifies. "I dunno. Paris, maybe? Or Rome? I've always wanted to go to Italy."

Everyone else is still silent and stunned. It's almost funny.

"Italy's great," I agree, but then I offer him another option. "But I think you'd like Vienna. Tons of history, there."

"You travel a lot, huh?" He looks pretty awestruck. I could get used to that look.

I grin. "I get around."

He gives a low, throaty chuckle, and I'm suddenly sporting a semi. "So, what countries have you visited?"

"Um… England, – my dad's English, so I have family there – France, Belgium, Austria, Italy, Greece, Hungary, Russia, India, Morocco, South Africa, Singapore, Thailand, Australia, Argentina, Venezuela, Haiti and… wait, I think that's it." I tick them off on my fingers as I go, enjoying the way his jaw seems to drop further and further with each place I name. Damn… Jasper with his mouth hanging open… "Oh, hang on, and Texas."

He seems to replay my words, and then snorts when he realizes what I've said last. "Um, Cullen… Texas is in the US. It's not another country."

I raise my eyebrows at him meaningfully. "Hale, it's a whole other world down here."

He looks like he's dying to laugh. Then, when he takes in the shell-shocked faces of the rest of his narrow-minded team, he can't stop himself. He breaks out into honestly the most attractive laughter I've ever heard in my life. I decide that my new raison d'être is to make Jasper Hale laugh like that every chance I get.

When he can finally breathe again, he says "I can't believe how much of the world you've seen."

He sounds so wistful that I can't help but give him a sympathetic smile. There's a fierce longing burning in his deep blue gaze, and it's kind of melting my heart a little bit. I don't think I've ever felt so immediately enamored with a person before. Even the slightest shift in his facial expressions tugs at my heartstrings.

Which is weird, because, according to my friends, I have a block of ice where my heart should be.

Jasper opens his mouth, like he's about to say something, but another gruff voice cuts across him.

"Yeah, well, I dunno that you'd have such a good time of it, Jasper. Cullen has an advantage when he's doing all that sissy European air-kiss shit, seeing as he's a total fag anyhow."

Everyone gasps in unison.

I fight the desire to laugh.

Because finally, finally, someone has guessed. And I'm not even sure if Tyler Crowley is bright enough to have done it intentionally.

I look down at my recently repainted nails, examining the edges for chips.

Coolly, I raise one eyebrow.

Then, when I'm sure the impact of Tyler's words has settled in nicely, I raise my eyes and survey the anxious group as a whole.

Showtime.

"Well, I wouldn't say it gives me an advantage, Crowley, but it's certainly not as much of an issue over there as it clearly is to you." I smirk at him, selling my bravado nicely. "You know, some leading psychologists actually believe that homophobia is a coping mechanism for dealing with latent homosexual desire. What d'you reckon… are they onto something?"

Tyler slowly begins to turn purple.

Everyone else is slowly going gray.

And, finally, I look at Jasper, measuring his reaction. He's staring at me, bug-eyed, with his mouth hanging partway open. I try to communicate something with my eyes, because I don't really want to break the stunned silence.

You look pretty surprised. You had no idea, huh?

Jasper holds my gaze unflinchingly, and I can tell he understood. He's also giving me a look right back. I interpret it as; You're actually gay? For real?

I roll my eyes at him. Obviously.

His eyes get wider, and the dark-blue depths look incredulous. It's like he's saying; I can't believe you just outed yourself to half of our senior class.

I challenge him with my eyes, and you think that was a bad idea?

Almost imperceptibly, he shakes his head. His eyes say, I'm impressed.

I knit my eyebrows together, silently asking; Are you okay with me, now?

Jasper must understand, because he nods, and then breaks out into a heart-stopping smile, all white teeth and dimples. I grin in return. The whole 'conversation' is over in less than a minute, and nobody else seems to have noticed, but I'm reeling. I don't think I've ever been understood by a person through nothing more than my eyes. It's ridiculously cool.

Then Tyler stands up, balling his hands into fists, and stalks over to me, leaning down into my personal space with a face like thunder. "Are you calling me a fuckin' queer?"

Wow, did it really take him that long to come to that conclusion? He's dumber than I thought.

Dumb or not, he's probably going to kick my ass, now. Gulp. I mean, I'm not the kind of guy who looks easy to take down, but Tyler Crowley is a mountain. And, plus, I've literally never been in a fight in my life. Not my thing. I prefer to settle arguments with witty and irrefutable banter, rather than my fists.

Yeah… he could totally beat the shit out of me, without even trying.

Yikes.

Jasper is watching me, and he seems to sense my 'oh shit' vibes, because he jumps to his feet and lays a restraining hand on Tyler's shoulder, fingers gripping with – I'm sure – the kind of strength that is not to be contradicted.

"Ty," he says firmly, his tone a low warning. "Leave it alone."

"He called me a fuckin' fag!" Tyler hisses, but he's obeying Jasper's directive so far. He's not throwing any punches. From the way he keeps warily eyeing the white-knuckle grip Jasper has on his shoulder, I think that he's worried about not being able to take Jasper down.

Which, you know, is hot as fuck.

"You were bein' an ass to him, first," Jasper says reasonably. Crowley seems to sag in defeat, and Jasper continues, "Let's all just forget about it, and we can just be civil and enjoy the damn party, 'kay?"

Tyler looks like he wants to argue, but thinks better of it when one of the other guys steps in. I'm surprised to see that it's Emmett McCarty. He's even bigger than Crowley, so there is absolutely no way he'd take on the pair of them. Emmett grabs the asshole's elbow.

"C'mon, man, let's just go grab a beer and you can cool your jets." He drags him off towards Mike's kitchen, and I notice that both Jasper and I seem to let out a breath when they vanish.

Our eyes meet, and it's like we're talking without actually saying words again.

Thank you, I don't say.

Got your back, he doesn't say back.

And, looking into his eyes, I know he means it. He actually doesn't care that I'm gay. He wants to be my friend. He doesn't mind jumping in to protect me.

Fucking swoon.

Thanks for reading!

PJ

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