This is unbeta'd and not pre-read by anyone. All mistakes are my own.

MA: This story will have explicit and lemony scenes. If boy x boy relations offend you please don't read any further.

Characters belong to S. Meyer.

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[from previous chapter]

"Mr. Shulman has requested volunteers for the Trivia Team. When you get back after you serve your three day suspension, you join his team. They go to their first competition in three weeks. You give your full effort as a Trivia Team member and I don't see you in my office again, I'll grant you permission to attend State. How does that sound?"

[year: 2002 – Jasper age 15]

"Why are you even here? You don't have school spirit. Is this like some sort of detention for you?"

It only took them three days to catch on and they thought they were the intelligent elite of this school? God fuckin' help us.

I didn't know the name of the guy who spoke up, but I'd nicknamed him Milton in my head. Yeah, you could probably guess what he looked like.

The rest of the group was composed of four other guys who were Milton look-a-likes, a girl Milton, and a girl who had spiky purple hair, three facial piercings, and an attitude like she was the queen bee of saving the fucking world.

I feigned surprise that they figured it out and then pretended to look guilty, as if I actually felt bad that they'd discovered the truth.

Shit, this was too easy.

Why shouldn't they know the real reason I was part of the team?

A nasally voice erupted. "Oh great. We have to put up with attitude from the criminal element because Mr. Marchetti decides to use the trivia team as a punishment? How is any of this fair to the rest of us?" demanded one of the angry Miltons.

The rest of the group broke in and starting shouting questions at Mr. Shulman. I didn't blame them for their frustration. Each and every one of them volunteered and supported the trivia team. I was here because I'd been blackmailed. I slipped out to have a cigarette and walked a healthy ten feet off school property before I lit up.

It was our third day practicing for the upcoming tournament and so far it had gone as well as I'd expected. I sat around listening to the team as they strategized how they would answer questions and then they spent the majority of their time practicing questions that Mr. Shulman would fire off in quick succession.

The first day I never spoke, I only sat in a slouch and glared at any of the team members who dared look at me. The second day I'd answered a few of the questions when they were directed to me specifically. And today, I decided to make my own entertainment by interjecting with answers that were in actuality a play-on-words, usually with some dirty connotation. I couldn't do it every time or they'd start ignoring me, so I had to throw in a few correct answers to keep them sharp. None of the team members appreciated my sense of humor, hence the disruptive argument brewing and the mini explosion that had been set off seconds before I left to smoke.

"Are you coming back in?" Mr. Shulman's voice surprised me. Apparently he had the stealth of a cat on the prowl.

My skin prickled whenever I heard him speak, and even after hearing him ask hundreds of questions it still had the same effect.

"Isn't better if I fuckin' stay away?" I threw in the swear word to show him I wasn't intimidated that he was a teacher. It was actually a struggle to conquer the sudden need to impress him and the swear word felt heavy as it passed by my tongue.

"Look Jasper, you didn't get assigned to this team because Marchetti was looking to punish you. I asked for you," he stated.

"Yeah right, what a fuckin' crock," I scoffed. My pulsed raced with what he'd just stated.

He asked for me?

I couldn't look him in the eye, I was too shook up.

Why did he have to be so goddamn attractive? He was an old man for God's sake!

Old was a slight exaggeration. He was probably a recent college graduate, but any age beyond the teen years seemed old to me.

"No, I'm serious. This team has a severe weakness when it comes to history questions. No one on the team can answer a history question beyond what they'd taken in freshman year. We have math, science and literature all wrapped up with this group, but history was a major gap."

"I wanted you on the team and I tried to introduce myself several times, but you are very good at the brush off. I'd talked to Marchetti about how to approach you and he must have decided to strong-arm you when the opportunity presented itself because you are so damn difficult to pin down."

"You wanted me…for the team?" I couldn't help the speculation from rising out of my voice.

"How? Why?" I asked. I was a bit stunned that anyone in this school thought I was worth anything more than being a punching bag.

And History? How did he know I had an interest in history?

"Like I said, we had a weakness in history. I was talking with Jones because he teaches freshman history and he pointed me in your direction."

Of course it would be Coach Jones, one of the only teachers who'd ever noticed me beyond the superficial. I rubbed my forehead in frustration and butted out my cigarette.

"Okay," I responded. At least now I knew a bit of Marchetti's motivation for forcing me on the team. I kind of wondered because it had seemed so random and ridiculous with my record of poor grades and always causing a shit-storm of trouble.

"Okay?" he questioned. "You'll come back and help us out?"

His grey eyes were focused on mine and I could feel my face heat up under his scrutiny.

Fuck that, I do NOT blush.

"Sure I'll help those losers out, but once State is over don't expect me to stick with it."

"How about we agree to wait and see? Maybe you'll find you like it after the first competition." He ran his hand through his short, dirty-blonde hair in what looked like exasperation.

"Not fuckin' likely."

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"Don't you think it's about time to give up the war paint Whitlock?"

Days before the first trivia competition Mr. Shulman had taken to calling me by my last name. I hadn't heard myself called that since the summer before high school. By the end of the competition all the team members were calling me Whitlock.

It had felt like I was part of a team again.

Now it was six months later, and yeah, I was still part of the Dork Team. The Miltons had even sort of grown on me. And while it was past the official trivia season, they'd insisted we had to meet once a week in the "off season" to keep our minds in shape. It was fucking funny how they truly believed their brain was a muscle that required conditioning. It was probably the only muscle any of them ever fucking used in their lives.

Mr. Shulman had cornered me alone after today's practice. If I had known he was going to psycho-analyze me I'd have come up with an excuse. Instead, I was predictably excited to have him single me out. I relished any moment I got to spend in his presence.

Yeah – I had a fuckin' crush. It was inevitable really with the guy bein' so fuckin' hot. I know, what a cliché – with him being my teacher and all.

"What war paint?" I knew he meant the way I traced my eyes in black but I hated how he called it war paint; I bet he had no idea the real reason I do it.

"The black around the eyes. It looks dreadful and very juvenile," he commented in a conversational tone. "Don't you think you've made your point?"

"I do it because I like how it looks, not to make a point." I sneered, trying to hide the way his comments made me feel sick inside. I had come to expect insults from most people, but Shulman had proven to be different.

"Don't you? I always thought you wore it so that whenever you meet someone new there is no mistaking that you're gay. You can see immediately how they feel about you and you avoid getting sideswiped by a negative reaction from someone who hadn't realized your orientation. I'm guessing it probably happened one too many times and this is how you made sure it is the first thing they knew about you."

He'd never brought up the fact that I was gay before. It was strange to hear him acknowledge it so casually, and it was infuriating that he'd hit the nail on the head with his first guess.

What was this guy – a fuckin' psychology major? I thought he taught economics?

"You have no fuckin' idea," I denied as I quickly moved to exit the classroom. "Maybe I'm a huge fan of eighties new wave and Robert Smith is my idol."

"Eighties rock my ass," Mr. Shulman commented. "It's war paint. You want to intimidate anyone who doesn't feel comfortable dealing with your homosexuality. At least own the reason you do it."

I was floored. No one ever called me on my motivations and I didn't like it. Anger and embarrassment clawed into my chest and then promptly sunk down toward my abdominal region. It felt like one of my old ulcers was starting to burn again.

"It's not fuckin' war paint. And if you bring this topic up again I'm gonna halfta quit the team." I hated when adults tried to make me conform to their idea of what's acceptable and it was exceedingly painful to have this treatment from Shulman, someone whose opinion I'd come to respect.

I'm the ONLY person who gets to decide what I look like when I leave my house in the morning.

"Whitlock wait!" Mr. Shulman called after me as I sped down the hallway to escape the feeling of humiliation he'd instilled within me. "I wasn't saying it to…"

I didn't hear the rest of his weak explanation as I pushed myself harder to reach the outside exit.

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"Jasper," Mr. Shulman called out to me in the hallway a week later.

I pretended I hadn't heard him and continued on to my third period class. The embarrassment from my display of extreme over-reaction was eating away at me, but I still couldn't muster up the courage to let things slip back to normal. Everything about last week's encounter was entirely too painful for me to think about.

No doubt he was looking to find out why I hadn't showed up to the team practice last night.

"Jasper!" He called out again as I ducked out of sight down the hallway.

The fucker was persistent. I'd escaped him before geography, but he caught up with me during my lunch period as I was leaving the boy's room, coincidentally enough I'd been in there to reapply my so-called "war paint".

"Jasper, stop avoiding me," he commented as he grabbed hold of my arm and practically dragged me toward an empty classroom.

I considered kicking him in the shins to get him to release me, but the warmth of his hand on my upper arm and the short burst of excitement that rippled through me at his continued doggedness to ignore my attempts at evasion prevented my foot from lashing out and assaulting him.

I glanced over at the taller man as he pulled me along the hallway and my heart started to thunder in my chest. Suddenly, the reason I was so hurt by his insensitive comments was entirely too obvious to me.

I was infatuated with the man.

No fuckin' way!

By the time he had the door unlocked and I was pushed into the room my face was flaming and I couldn't look him in the eye.

Hopefully he mistakes my red cheeks for anger.

Shulman turned and promptly locked the door behind us without offering any sort of explanation. When he turned back he moved close to me and I felt myself shift defensively away from him.

"What the hell Jasper? Have you been avoiding me?"

"Yes," I admitted. "I didn't think you'd even notice."

"Of course I noticed. I thought we were friends?"

He stood still as a statue with his hands splayed waiting for my response.

I nodded and his shoulders relaxed with the tiniest motion.

He was right. We'd formed a friendship of sorts over the past six months. I'd even told him an abridged version of my family drama. No one. I mean no one had ever been told any of that shit.

He crossed his arms as he peered down at me with the smallest pucker of a frown at the bridge of his nose. His shirt sleeves had been rolled up and I couldn't help but stare at his forearms.

How could someone have such stunning forearms? Forearms – really Jasper?

Not knowing how to react I stuck my hands in my pockets and rocked back and forth from my heels to my toes and back.

"So why then, did you take my comments about your… look, so offensively? I wasn't trying to be insulting. I only thought you should let go of some of the walls you'd built up."

I shrugged.

"Are you mad at me?"

I shrugged.

He uncrossed his arms and stepped a little closer. I almost thought he was going to pull me into him by reaching out and grabbing my shoulders, but I knew that was only my imagination taking off and getting the better of me.

"Please stop fucking shrugging and tell me you…forgive me."

Forgive him?

My eyes flashed to his and I could see he was being sincere. I took a step back, suddenly feeling dizzy.

I had been surprised both by Shulman's tone and the idea that he was seeking my forgiveness. It was an odd feeling to have an adult ask forgiveness. I'd waited years to hear my own father say those words to me and they still hadn't been offered.

Please let me get through this without humiliating myself again.

"There's nothin' to forgive Mr. Shulman. I was acting like an idiot and I was bein' way too supersensitive. Ya'd think I'd have a thicker skin by now."

"Jasper, I've told you before, you can call me James when we're alone. No need to be so formal.

James. I wanted so badly to call him by his first name.

"There is nothin' to forgive," I reiterated, while avoiding the use of any names.

My heart continued to pitter-patter at an accelerated rate.

"You're wrong. I had no right to judge you. Its' just that you make me so damn frustrated sometimes. You're smart as a whip, funny, and you have a great heart. But, you don't make any effort to excel in any of your classes, and you hide the real you behind a look and attitude that screams teenage angst. You could have friends, but you're too scared to try. You're drowning Jasper and you're damaging the very promising future you could have."

I took another step away from him.

He says he doesn't want to insult me, but then he goes ahead and does it again.

Scared? I'm not fuckin' scared. I'm fed up!

"It's not a fuckin' look, James; it represents how I feel on any given day. I feel…black. And you're doing it again," I complained. "You're judging me."

"Sorry Jasper, I'm making a mess of my apology," he stated with a sigh of resignation and plopped himself down on the edge of one of the desks. The desk moved under his weight and scraped slightly on the floor.

My heart twisted at the tone in his voice. I didn't want to make Mr. Shulman upset, but I hated being lumped in with every other teenager. I liked that he was trying to see the real me under all my layers, but his expedition was making me skittish.

I closed my eyes and counted to ten. When I opened my eyes my anger had subsided enough, but the electricity running through my veins was making me jumpy. There was a strange feeling in the air that I couldn't identify.

Looking over at Mr. Shulman my gaze got caught in his and I couldn't look away. He had a way of staring back that made me feel good about myself for the first time. Like for once someone was seeing me for who I really was. I sat down at the next desk over.

"You're right. The liner is adolescent, but I'm not sure I'm ready to give it up," I admitted. "I've been wearing it for so long I'd feel naked without it."

"I understand why you like it," Shulman answered in slow thoughtful tone. "But, I hate to see you keeping yourself isolated. You built this wall around you and it's hard for anyone to get in. Now I don't mean this to be insulting, but do you have any friends?"

"Of course I do," I quickly interrupted. I was persona non grata at the high school amongst the popular crowd, but I hung with a few freaks and now thanks to the trivia team, even a few geeks from time to time.

"I mean true friends who know the real you. Friends you can trust to be yourself"

"There are a few…" I muttered.

"Victoria Barnes and Jason Chambers are not what I would call trustworthy. They're beneath you and the kind of individuals you should really be stepping away from. Trust me, ten years from now they will either be dead or in jail. They are going to fall down the well, and if you're close enough they'll pull you with them."

I didn't know what to say. Tori and J.C. were a few of the freaks who'd been cool enough to let me hang with them at school. I was grateful because in middle school I'd been anything but cool to J.C. He'd been a skinny runt of a kid who'd come to school with the same dirty shirt three days in a row. I hadn't treated him fairly when I was king of the jocks and yet he hadn't blinked an eye when I sat down next to him at his table in the cafeteria the second week of freshman year. He had every right to laugh in my face and kick me to the ground. Well he couldn't have kicked me down because I could still take him physically, but he should have spit in my food, or something. I deserved it.

When I didn't respond, Mr. Shulman sighed and stood up again.

"Think about it Jasper. You could have a bright future ahead of you, don't throw it away because some people were stupid and ignorant about your sexual orientation. I think you'd be surprised how many of your fellow students have become more open-minded as they grow older…the smarter ones at least."

He paused as he went to pass me and patted my shoulder.

I hadn't acknowledged his words of advice, but his hand touching my shoulder sent chills up my spine and goose bumps popped up all over my arms. I didn't trust my voice to sound normal so I merely nodded again and kept my gaze down.

"Okay bud. When I see you later are you going to continue to pretend I don't exist?" Shulman joked.

Again I failed to speak up, but this time I lifted my eyes as I shook my head 'no'. The grey in his eyes had darkened, but the slight crinkle at the edges told me he wasn't angry.

He nodded back with a slight smirk and then he unlocked the door and slipped out, leaving the door slightly ajar. As the buzz of the students in the hallway filtered into the room I continued to sit and contemplate everything he'd advised. Some of what he'd said made sense, but when I considered actually following through with some of his suggestions I suddenly felt sick and I wanted to skip my last few classes and go home to bury myself in bed.

Why did everythin' in my life have to be so goddamn complicated?

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Thanks for reading!