Thank you all so much for your continued support for this story, and the wonderful amazing reviews that warm my heart and make me grin *almost* as wide as Jasper. I adore it when you tell me exactly what lines or facets of the story moved you, made you laugh, made you cry; because I promise you, if I know it's been a popular facet of the story **cough**shower ledge**cough** I'll do what I can to incorporate it in future chapters.
Disclaimer: I don't own Edward or Jasper, or anything Twilight-related. Only Stephenie Meyer does. But I would gladly butter them up like Jasper's hot biscuits.
-o-
Edward
Chance. I don't believe in it. It's too random for my comfort. I've always preferred to view my life as something over which I have complete control; or at least, as much control as it's possible for anyone to have. I believe that one makes his own luck in life; leaving things up to fate or a higher power is for cowards.
Control. When I came out to my peers in high school, I took my destiny into my own hands. I didn't wait for someone to "out" me accidentally; I decided what I was going to do, and I was prepared for the likely consequences. When I go after a guy at a bar, it's on my terms; and he can take it or leave it. I don't make concessions.
Irony. Just kicked my ass.
Jasper has just – what? Confessed? – that he stumbled across pictures of me on Facebook. Hell, there could be a thousand pictures of me on Facebook, for all I know; I don't have an account – friends are, I believe, a prerequisite for sites such as this – but the infuriating number of people with cell phone cameras at the clubs certainly makes it possible. I can't quite chalk his disclosure up as a 'confession', though; any more than I could blame someone who happens across a rare vinyl record at a yard sale.
And hell, I'm relieved. To be honest, I've been wondering whether he staked out my apartment building and waited for me to get back from New York; he would have had my address because of the NICU donation in San Francisco. The thought of his innocuous teenager stalking is one thing; adult stalking is another prospect altogether. After the deep, soul-baring conversations we've already had, I have no reason not to believe that what he says is true.
Despite my relief, though, I am forced, for the second time in less than a day, to admit – at least to myself – that the beliefs by which I've guided my life for many years, may be entirely wrong.
And now, the catalyst, the subversive who has caused this general cascade of my paradigms, sits patiently across the table from me. To look at him, one would hardly guess him to be the dangerous radical he is; with his soft blonde curls and clear green eyes, he looks more like an angel. Instead of the loud, obnoxious wrecking ball that so many club boys present themselves as, his unassuming voice is a scalpel, carefully cutting away the dead pieces of my soul, never doubting that underneath he will find living flesh worth saving.
And he's waiting for me to speak. He seems genuinely apprehensive. Why? Is it because, having already admitted to following me ten years ago, he thinks I won't believe him about the accidental nature of his discovery? Abruptly, it is important to me that he not suffer, even momentarily, when it's entirely unnecessary. I need to allay his fears immediately. I draw a deep breath.
"I'll never bitch about those fucking cell phone cameras at Spin again," I say, and reaching for his hand, I show him the most genuine smile I can. "Even if the fuckers do blind me every time they flash the damn things. And despite the fact that poor lighting and close range cause red-eye effect," I add, for a bit of comic relief.
My response and the unsolicited photography advice have the desired effect, and Jasper tosses his beautiful head back to laugh heartily. The tension is broken, and hearing that clear ringing laugh, I can't help but join him. The other patrons that have joined us in the diner smile at us, unsure what the joke is, but clearly unable to resist the charm of his infectious laughter.
"Come on," I say, "let's get out of here." I throw a couple of twenties on the table, figuring it will cover the bill and a more-than-generous tip, and slide out of the booth. I grab his hand and pull him with me, and we each put our coats on as we're leaving the restaurant.
Back outside in the chilly air, and the sun is making its way up in the clear winter sky. We stand on the sidewalk for a few moments, each taking deep breaths of the brisk air; it's refreshing after the too-warm diner and the enormous breakfast we've each consumed. I turn my face to the sun, closing my eyes and letting its still-weak rays soak into my skin. Involuntarily, I sigh – a sigh of contentment, satisfaction and…Jesus – happiness. The first actual happiness I've felt in…I don't even know how long.
A moment later, I feel Jasper's chilly hands on either side of my face, and I open my eyes to see him standing close before me.
"You look so beautiful, with your face all illuminated by the sun," he whispers. "I'd like to kiss you. Is that okay?"
My breath catches in my chest, and all I can do is nod. He leans closer and just before his face touches mine, his eyes close. He's kissing me with his eyes closed. I've never kissed someone with my eyes closed. As much as I know it allows you to shut out the outside world, focus on the moment…it makes me feel vulnerable. I can't see what's going on around me, and I've just never trusted anyone enough to…I don't know – protect me?...if something happens. And as much as I think he deserves it, I'm just not at that place yet. And I can't pretend that I am – it's not what I do, and it would be utterly disingenuous to him after he has been so open with me.
So I melt into his soft lips and his warm, wet tongue, and my hands find their way inside his jacket to rest on his hips; and my eyes look at the curls that brush his cheekbones. The kiss is deep, but sweetly passionate; without the urgency and fire of our kisses earlier this morning.
Finally, he pulls back to smile down into my eyes, and I can't help leaning into him and laying my head on his shoulder, nuzzling my face into his neck. After a few moments, I know I can't put off any longer, telling him about my plans for the upcoming week.
"I have to fly to Vancouver tonight," I say without lifting my head from his shoulder.
"For work?" he asks.
"Yeah, a magazine shoot for a few days."
"Hmmm," he murmurs noncommittally.
I lift my head now to look in his eyes. "So, that means I need to get back to my apartment and get things ready to go. However," I continue, lifting his hand to my lips and kissing the backs of his fingers, "I'd like to see you when I get home." As I await his reply, I memorize the soft, delicate peaks of his top lip, knowing I'll carry the image in my mind while I'm away.
"I'd like that," he says, his mouth splitting into that dazzlingly wide grin.
"Good," I smile back. "I'm hoping to get the shoot done in three days, but it depends on how prepared they are for me. It may spill over into Thursday. I'll call you when I get back?"
"Sounds great," he replies. "I need to spend a few evenings at my place anyways, get things put away; warm the place up a bit. And I'm sure there'll be some reading for me, to go with the new job."
"Can I take you home?" I ask, realizing I have no idea whether he has a car that he left somewhere near the club, or even where he lives.
He shakes his head. "Don't worry about it – my car's parked near the club. I'll walk back to it." I start to protest, but he doesn't let me. "No, it's fine; it's a beautiful morning and the club's not far away. You go home and pack. I'll see you when you come back."
"Okay," I relent, and we each pull out our cell phones to enter each other's numbers. He gives me another quick kiss, murmurs a soft farewell, and begins to stride off in the direction of the club. For a moment I watch him walk away, and then before I know it, I'm running after him.
"Jasper!" I call, and he turns in surprise. In a few seconds, I'm standing before him, wide-eyed and feeling a bit panicked.
"What's wrong?" he asks, concerned.
"Nothing's wrong. I just…I need to tell you…I couldn't let you leave without telling you, that I'll be thinking about you when I'm away."
His face warms immeasurably and he smiles softly. "I'll be thinking about you, Edward."
I need him to know that I won't just be thinking about the sex. Oh, I'll think about the sex. Damn. But so much more has happened than just sex. I step closer and place my gently hands on his upper arms. "And I'll be thinking about all the things you've told me – about me. You've given me a lot to consider."
He smiles and pulls me into a tight embrace. "All I did was tell you what I saw about you, Edward," he whispers. "All of that was there already; I just tried to show it to you." Another deep, soft kiss, a few whispered endearments, and he's off again down the street; and again I watch him retreat until he disappears around the corner at the end of the block.
I turn and slowly begin the walk back to my apartment. Already I feel as though something is missing…just vanished from its rightful place at my side. Despite the empty feeling, I know myself – it's vital for me to have a few days to process the fundamental changes that have started to take place in my life. Work is the best thing – I can do my shoots during the day, and spend the evenings locked away in the studio on location, manipulating light and color. Over that, at least, I still have control. My world still has some order to it.
Back at my apartment, I look slowly around before I start to pack for the trip. I wander to the couch and run my fingers across the smooth leather, remembering the sight of Jasper sitting there gazing out the window with a beautiful smile on his face; his long legs tucked up under him in a childlike pose. I remember the strange thrill of realizing that he was sitting there, quietly waiting for me to be ready for the day; instead of having dashed out as soon as we fucked, as I would normally insist that most boys do.
In the kitchen, his coffee cup sits on the counter and I recall the "behind-the-scenes tour" that pre-empted dishwashing. On the chair in my room are Jasper's sweater and other clothes he left here. I lift his shirt to my face and inhale deeply; his scent permeates the sweater, a heady blend of musk and chai. My body reacts with a twitching, lengthening dick, and a small pang in my heart.
I go to the bathroom to pack my toiletries, and my reflection catches my eye in the mirror. I study it for several moments, looking for a discernable difference in my appearance that betrays the change I've undergone on the inside. I am relieved not to be able to find any outward change. I'm definitely not ready for my relationship with him to undergo scrutiny from anyone else, since I don't even know yet what it is…what I'm capable of.
His words come back to me: I just tried to show it to you. And I swear to myself:When I come home, I'm going to show it back. Show him that I want to be the person he believes I am, and show him that I can see all of his beauty, inside and out.
-o-
So the boys have some downtime now, a bit of time apart to reflect on the things they've learned about themselves and each other.
As always, please, please review! xoxo