I am posting this late at night and I'm totally dying to get to sleep. I will be responding to last chapter's reviews in the next couple of days – I really, really appreciated them. Sorry about the long time between updates! I hadn't stopped writing, but I was too tired to edit or post. I've been too wrapped up in watching the NHL playoffs with their ridiculous amount of overtimes and I can't seem to even see the words on my screen - I'm that tired. Hopefully this paragraph makes sense in the morning...

There should be another posting later in the week.

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.

I want to offer my very special thanks to all those who took the time to review and/or alerted/favorite'd – your support makes this all worthwhile.

*****umlm*****

[year: 2003 – Jasper age 16]

"Why were you drinking yesterday?" James demanded as he stood over me.

It felt like I was about to be scolded by my father and I fucking hated it.

I slumped down in my chair wishing I could turn back the clock.

Economics was my last class of the day and when I'd arrived today James had stopped at my desk and requested I stay after class. I was sure all my classmates were watching our interaction knowing exactly why this was being requested of me. From the whispers around me I deduced that the show I'd put on in yesterday's class hadn't gone unnoticed and everyone was making their own predictions about what my punishment would be.

Yet, even while I knew I was in trouble my heart raced out of control at the realization that I was going to be alone with James, and while the idea excited me my stomach was twisting up in knots because I knew I'd screwed up.

The shittiest part of it was that I hadn't ever planned to take an economics course, especially with James being the teacher, but James shrewdly knew exactly what to say to alter my opinion and had convinced me it was important. I had wanted to stick to history classes for my optional courses or if not history, then something easy. I was never a numbers person and I had always equated economics with numbers. James had appealed to my interests and stated that if I wanted a "comprehensive understanding of the motivations behind warfare" I needed economics. He said money and war went hand in hand and my lack of mathematical ability wasn't important. So I ended up taking his fucking class.

Returning to school after sharing a half bottle of Jack with Shannan under the bleachers hadn't been my smartest decision to date, but I hadn't wanted to miss his class. The more inebriated I'd gotten the more I wanted to see James in the worst way. He was after all, one of the reasons I was drinking in the first place.

Up until this moment I was hopeful he hadn't realized drinking was behind my bizarre behavior in class yesterday. I was hoping he'd leave it alone. Not fuckin' likely. It was impossible to slip one over him; he was like Sherlock fucking Holmes if I even took even one step out of line.

What I couldn't understand was why he took such an interest in my fucking welfare. Over the past year I'd been uselessly attempting to keep my feelings from developing beyond lust, but his constant interest in everything I did was making it difficult to remain indifferent.

"I don't know," I stated, trying with difficulty to keep my eyes off the man's physique.

Having accepted the position of assistant track coach at the start of the year, James then successfully bullied me into trying out for a couple of the longer distance running slots. It hadn't been until after I'd made the team that I'd found out he'd been a triathlete in college. I was initially impressed that he still pushed himself physically and participated in marathons several times a year, however I soon began to realize his dedication was quickly becoming my own brand of pure, fucking torture.

Each practice I was forced to watch his lean calves and well-muscled upper thighs pumping in front of me and causing my own blood to pump to the wrong organ for running. For awhile I had to make a routine of heading straight home after practice so I could beat off in the privacy of my own shower.

Funnily enough, the torment I'd experienced had a positive effect once I realized the cure. Traditionally I'd always been a come-from-behind kind of runner and allowed other runners to set the pace; I'd then stalk them until I was able to run them down. With proper motivation I found I could set the pace and still win. This was actually beneficial for track since they often had various heats for each distance and time was the most important factor. With my new goal to become faster than James I became fanatical about increasing my speed for the specific reason of not having to follow James and witness his ass flexing and his thighs pumping. I had wanted to go back to a time when I had a less punishing relationship with my dick. It worked for awhile.

Now, as he stood as close as he was at this moment, I couldn't help but let my eyes drift over him and take in the way he looked positively sinful in his dusty blue polo. I shifted in my seat as I tried to ignore the way his presence always caused a stir in my loins and I nearly groaned out loud when I realized I'd probably need to make a trip to the bathroom to beat off before practice.

That was, if I wasn't suspended from the fucking team for drinking.

Okay, that thought alone was enough to make me wilt.

"You don't know?" he asked in an angry tone with his teeth grinding together.

Disbelief was clearly missing so I could safely guess he hadn't fallen for my fake ignorance.

Well, it's not like I can tell you my reasons.

"I was upset. It was a mistake," I muttered.

It was embarrassing to have him grilling me.

If he suspected, why hadn't he turned me in?

His eyes softened slightly and he shifted to sit down in the desk next to mine.

"What had you so upset?"

His tone was still hard but I could tell he was trying to keep his anger in check. I'd seen a similar look on his face the time our trivia team had totally ruined their chances of placing in the Fort Worth tournament because of arguments brewing between several of our teammates. At that time his only method of control had been to leave the room when he reached that likely-to-explode level.

I wondered what, if anything, would prevent him from blowing up this time.

"It's embarrassing…and personal," I added, hoping he'd leave it at that.

James crossed his arms as if to show he was serious and I couldn't help but stare at the way it made his arms and chest look so mouth-watering.

I'm such a fuckin' pervert and droolin' over him is so not goin' to help in this situation.

"You're going to have to do better than that Jasper if you don't want me reporting you to Marchetti."

He wouldn't!

I ducked and shook my head, letting my blonde hair fall forward and hide my eyes.

"Come on Jazz you can talk to me about anything," James urged.

Not about this.

"Honestly, I think I'd prefer you report me," I answered dejectedly, thinking about what a fucked up situation I was in.

I'd been so fucking stupid.

James leaned in closer and his tone turned gentle.

"Was it something to do with your dad?"

"No," I answered in a rush.

I hated that James knew how much my situation with Robert tended to screw with my head. Oddly enough, family issues as awful as they had been to experience, had never caused me to drink myself sick.

"It's only some fuckin' run-of-the-mill teenage experimentation. Go ahead and fink to your superior."

A flash of something crossed James face but it had been so fleeting I couldn't decipher the feeling behind it; in fact, I might very well have imagined it. He shifted in the desk, causing the seat to groan beneath him.

"Okay," James responded, his tone staying even and strong.

I didn't need an interpreter to read that he wasn't fucking bluffing this time.

"Stand up, we're going to go see Marchetti right now."

I didn't move from the desk. If I was already in trouble I didn't see why I needed to follow him as soon as he said to.

James strode to the door of the room and turned to usher me out. The look of surprise on his face when he realized I was still seated was comical and fucking priceless. The guy wasn't used to anyone defying him. I sat a little taller and tried to keep a strong face of defiance in both my expression and my body language.

"Am I off the team?"

Wait for it. If he says 'yes' I need to keep my cool and not start crying like a baby.

"Why were you drinking?"

"We've already been through this. I don't want to talk about it."

"Why were you drinking?" James repeated.

"No. Goin'. To. Say." I reiterated.

James strode back towards me in a quick, decisive stride and squatted in front of me.

"What could be so bad Jazz? I'm worried about you," he confessed. "You were drinking alcohol…alcohol during school hours and on school property. What or who would make you fuck up like that?"

I looked away while I challenged myself to keep any tears from forming by thinking of something benign, like reciting my oral Spanish homework in my head.

Dónde está el baño? Te amo. Bien gracias, ¿y usted? ¿y tú?

When I felt stronger and knew I had control over my damn tear ducts I brushed my hair out of my eyes and looked back toward James raising my eyebrow in a cocky gesture. I knew it would irritate him to no end.

"You are makin' this out to be a much bigger deal than it is. I was feelin' a little off and I made a shitty decision. I'm not perfect," I snorted. "It happens."

I shrugged to show him how I wasn't upset now. My nonchalance had to be played perfectly as James seemed to have the uncanny ability to read me like a lie detector.

He sighed, closed his eyes and dipped his head back. His hand reached up and covered his eyes and I couldn't take my fucking eyes off of him. Even as frustrated as he was, he was so damn hot. I started to imagine stepping behind him and touching those gorgeous shoulders as I leaned in to…

"You have to stop staring at me like that," James whispered harshly, breaking me from my trance.

Fuck! How could I let myself slip like and stare at him like a moony-eyed fuckin' dipshit?

I shot out of my seat and rushed the door. I hoped each foot of space I gained between us would lessen the humiliation that resided in the room behind me. As my feet pounded down the hall toward the closest exit I could hear James calling after me.

"Jasper hold up!"

Not a fuckin' chance. Why would I? So I can further relive the embarrassment of being caught oglin' my teacher, or wait even better yet, so I can go to the principal's office and get kicked off the fuckin' team?

Why the fuck would I hang around for that kind of shit?

*****umlm*****

An hour later a knock on our apartment door startled me. I peeked through the eyehole and the person standing there caused my heart to beat rapidly and my knees to feel weak.

How the hell does he know where I live? Why would he come here?

Another round of hammering forced me to consider opening it. If it weren't for Mrs. C in 308 I'd have ignored him, but we'd already received too many noise complaints about my loud music and our landlord had given us several warnings.

I cracked the door open and avoided looking into his face.

"Why are you here?"

I hated how my voice crackled with pain and uncertainty.

"Aren't you going to ask me in Jasper? It's the polite thing to do," James pointed out.

I moved aside as James pushed the door open enough to slide through and I watched as he looked around the small but cozy living room. Momma and I had moved here after her and dad broke up and she made the decision to no longer accept his financial support. We'd given up a beautiful two-storey house in a middle-upper-class neighborhood, but if Momma was happy with her independence you wouldn't find me complaining.

"Is your mom home?" he inquired.

Was he here to talk to her? Wouldn't it have made more sense to call her and set up an appointment to meet at the school?

The idea that Momma would find out about me drinking was terrifying. I won't lie; the woman scared me when I got into trouble.

"No. She's never home before eight or nine on any weeknight."

Since it was only six o'clock there wasn't much chance he'd wait her out.

"Good," he answered. "You're alone?"

Good? Suddenly I wondered why the fuck he was here.

"Yeah," I answered in hesitation.

He looked around the room again and then moved to sit down languidly on the sofa. He gestured to a spot near him and I understood that he meant for me to sit next to him.

"What are ya doin' here?" I asked again as I slowly travelled toward the spot he'd indicated.

"I want you to talk to me. Tell me what happened. You've made great improvements this year, but getting drunk was very stupid and a huge step back. Who were you with?"

I could feel how his gaze never wavered from me as he tracked my progress across the room and I purposefully chose the far side of the sofa, not wanting to sit too close. My earlier humiliation was still too fresh and I wondered how much James had read from my lustful gaze.

Did he suspect I had feelings for him?

It was fucking mortifying to think of the way he'd caught me staring. I'd worked so hard to keep my attraction toward him concealed.

Would he bring it up?

God I fuckin' hoped not. I fuckin' hoped we could leave it as a big fat elephant, or better yet, buried six feet under.

"It wasn't that big of a deal. I was feeling confused and upset. The drinking part just… happened."

"Drinking at your age doesn't just happen," James countered. "Where did you get the alcohol from? Who were you with?"

Over the last summer I'd shaved my head and shed the dark hair, eyebrows, and the lacquered eyes. By the time the new school year started I'd grown out enough blonde hair for a barber to style it and I'd made a few new friends; ones that had met with James' approval. None of them were from the popular crowd, but they were all decent people. Good students, relatively geek free, and most importantly, none of them were considered delinquents.

Shannan was one of those new friends and she was the only one who knew about my feelings for James. Yesterday at lunch she'd noticed my agitation as I approached our usual lunch table and she'd dragged me away. We driven to her house and instead of lunch we impulsively decided to filch the whiskey from her step-dad's stash in her basement and brought it back to school to drink. We'd spent hours under the bleachers drinking and lamenting about our failed or impossible romantic lives. The burn of the whiskey and the eventual lightheadedness proved to be an excellent distraction from the embarrassment of how I'd treated Trent and my perverse interest in a man who was far from being an appropriate romantic interest.

"Trent kissed me," I confessed quickly in a whisper.

Oh fuck. I so didn't want to share that with HIM.

Trent was another of my 'new' friends this year. I hadn't known Trent was gay. My guess was he'd always been in the closet. He was a nice enough guy and not bad looking, but I wasn't attracted to him that way. It had happened when we'd been hanging out in my room playing Call of Duty. One minute I was watching him getting shot up and the next he was easing himself closer and then leaning in to kiss me.

It was totally unexpected and I freaked out.

Had Trent thought it was okay to take liberties because I was gay? Or, did I seem that hard up that a simple request to find out my interest before kissing me was considered unneeded?

My brainless overreaction had actually made Trent cry and, since I had no idea how to handle sensitive shit like that, I almost fucking clobbered him. Why the fuck I thought hitting the guy would get rid of the crying was a mystery even to me. Not long after, minus the violent impulses, I was able to usher him out of the apartment without a word of comfort.

I can't fake insightful or empathetic, maybe it's because of the isolation from my peers for so many years. Most likely it's because I'm a dimwitted, fuckin' prick.

Needless to say, I hadn't felt comfortable sitting across from him at the lunch table after that experience and I doubted he'd want me there either. I wasn't sure if he'd shared my idiotic reaction with the others, but I knew the fucking tension I'd felt as I approached the table hadn't been imagined.

Another fuckin' group of people I've alienated.

"Why would that cause you to drink?"

Because I realized how stupid I was to fall in love with my teacher.

"I like Trent; he's a good guy, and not bad looking."

"But…?" James led.

Here goes nothing.

"But, I realized I can't ever feel that way about anyone, not when I'm already in love with someone else, someone completely and utterly unattainable. I was drowning my fuckin' pathetic sorrows with a little bitta drinkin'. Can't you look the other way?"

I looked into James' eyes trying to tell him silently what I couldn't out loud. I hadn't planned to confess my feelings today. Or ever. But I was sick of forever living with that little twinkle of hope that he could feel the same way. I needed James to shut me down and I wanted to fuckin' try and move on.

I would have welcomed a punch in the face if that was what it took to relieve me of those ludicrous feelings. It was fucking ridiculous how much time I'd spent fantasizing about a future with a man who was essentially off limits. What I wanted was against the fucking law and I'd never want to put James' job or freedom in danger.

Add that to the fact that I didn't even know if he was gay.

What the fuck was I thinking?

I shifted my eyes away from his and suddenly hoped my eyes hadn't been as telling as I originally aspired.

I could feel James move closer on the sofa and I wondered if this was where I'd get another beating. I kept my posture as stoic as possible, but there was nothing I could do about the way my head had started to pound. A beating I could take, it was the hateful words that always stung and never completely healed.

He's a teacher; he's not goin' to fuckin' touch you.

But I'd been blindsided by violence before and I couldn't quite believe my attraction to a straight man wouldn't have some sort of negative implication. Having experienced hatred from guys I'd been friends with for over a decade for nothing more than admitting I was gay, I had a hard time trusting that I wouldn't get some sort of unpleasant reaction in this case.

James felt so close I had to close my eyes and when he started to whisper to me I whimpered trying to shut out the detestable things he might say.

"What are you trying to tell me," James asked softly.

It took me a few seconds to realize he hadn't spit any of the vile things I'd been prepared for.

Did he ask me somethin'?

"Huh?" I asked in surprise.

I risked taking a peak at him and I was overwhelmed by the look of interest in his eyes. My pulse raced, sweat formed on my temple, and I started to feel an odd flutter in my chest.

"I…uh…fuck…I wasn't tryin' to tell ya anythin'."

What a fuckin' chickenshit you are Jasper Whitlock – you might as well be a fuckin' chick.

Yeah, but if he is gay and he does want more – what would make that situation acceptable?

Nothing. Nothing was the only answer I could come up with. Nothing would make it okay.

*****umlm*****

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