Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or any of the characters... I also don't own a waffle iron, which is completely irrelevant.

A/N: This chapter is a little jumpy. It's supposed to be, as Jasper is inebriated for most of it. This includes some slight overlap with Chapter 3 of Seven Minutes in Heaven. This won't usually happen, but the event is important enough that I had to include some overlapping dialogue. However, you don't need to have read SMIH in order to read this. It is truly Jasper's story, and I want it to be his own as much as possible.

That said, thank you to all of you who have shown SMIH so much love this week! I'm absolutely overwhelmed with the response. I hope you enjoy Jasper's side of the story just as much.

I was drunk.

Sloppy drunk.

I didn't even remember how I managed to get into this party in the first place. I knew that Alice was around somewhere, but I had no idea where she had run off to.

I just didn't want to be sober anymore. This semester was kicking my ass, and life just seemed easier through the messy fog. Midterms were coming up, and I was way behind. I just got a C on my first psychology paper.

Psychology, yeah, that's what I was doing here. My psychology T.A., Laurent, had asked me to come to this party, which, I'm pretty sure violated some ethical code of conduct on the University's books. Through some stupid project we had to do for class, he found out I was gay. He wasn't gay, but he told me that I seemed like the type of guy his roommate always went for, whatever that meant.

Alice was more than happy to come with me. Something happened with the boy she had hooked up with over Christmas, and she had been spending the past few weekends trying to get him out of her system. Her words. I asked no follow up questions.

She'd tell me eventually anyway.

When we got to the party, Laurent introduced me to his roommate – James. He wasn't a bad looking guy. He had brownish hair, was a few inches shorter than me, but he definitely worked out. He was wearing torn jeans, designer, and a plaid button down that was casually unbuttoned further down than a straight man would ever dare go.

I had seen him around on campus a few times when he was with Laurent, but I really had never given him much of a second look. Tonight, however, I was looking for a distraction from everything, so I humored him.

"You know, I've seen you around, Jasper," he said. "But, you always seemed kind of shy."

I shrugged, "I've always been a fan of the speak softly and carry a big stick philosophy."

"And do you?" James had taken a step closer to me, closer than one would to an acquaintance, or even a friend.

"Do I what?" I asked, though I knew what he was not-so-subtly driving at.

"Carry a big stick?"

"You'll just have to find out," the words were out of my mouth before I could take them back. I wasn't really interested in this guy at all.

Was I?

I couldn't seem to stop myself from flirting, so maybe that meant something. But, had he not been showing me attention first, I knew I definitely wouldn't go for him.

He smirked at me and went to get another beer. A few more people came into the room, and the idle chatter increased. I contented myself just to take in the scene and not say anything stupid. My mouth seemed to be completely disconnected from my brain. After awhile, James came back up to me and told me to make myself comfortable, but that he had a few things to take care of before he could take the time get to know me better.

I wasn't sure exactly what he was driving at, but I had a pretty good idea. Regardless, there was beer and decent music, so I figured I could hang out for awhile.

So, here I was, sitting on a dingy sectional in this messy as shit apartment, making small talk with some guy who called himself Beans, who apparently lived next door, or upstairs, or something. I really didn't care. On the bright side, I was pleasantly intoxicated. Once the cheap beer got old, Laurent luckily came over and told me that James insisted I be granted free reign on the liquor cabinet, as an apology for having to keep me waiting.

So, I indulged in a little whiskey.

This guy – Beans – was telling me about an ex-girlfriend from back home. It was obvious that she had been his only girlfriend, and the only reason he was still hung up on her was because he had yet to find anyone else who was willing to touch his penis. I almost offered to blow him if it would get him to shut up, but, well, he just needed someone to talk to, so I pretended to pay attention. No one else at the party seemed all that interesting anyway.

However, I was damn near passing out on the couch when suddenly there was something, er, someone dragging his fingers across my chest..

James.

Right.

"Come to my room," he whispered in my ear.

I swallowed. "Okay."

I was halfway down the hall, following the guy, before it even registered what I was doing. I idly wondered if I had just left that lonely dude sitting on the couch without a word.

What was I doing?

It was like watching myself from outside my body. I knew that I was going into some guy's room that I didn't really know, that I didn't really like, who was only physically attracted to me, and that it was really, really stupid.

But, then, he turned around and eyed me up and down like I was trophy, and I felt wanted.

Attractive.

Apparently that's all it took.

He pulled me into the bedroom. Once the door was closed, he pressed me forcefully against the door. His lips were on mine – they were hot, salty and tasted like tequila. His tongue was insistent, and my brain couldn't keep up with his movements.

Suddenly, I was being pressed into a mattress, and a hand that wasn't mine was grabbing my cock through my jeans.

An unfamiliar voice came through my stupor, "We need to get these off of you."

I sat up, and he helped me pull off my long-sleeved tee.

Sloppy lips were being pressed against my chest as I fell back down onto the bed. Something felt off about the lips, they were hurried, not at all the way I remembered being kissed there before, but my pants were also being unbuckled, effectively distracting me. I raised my hips a little so that my boxer-briefs could be pushed down, freeing me.

"Big stick indeed," James murmured. He looked up at me greedily. I realized why the lips didn't feel the way I remembered them – they belonged to the wrong man.

It was a fleeting thought, though, because when he leaned forward to kiss me, he was once again really forceful. He grabbed my wrists with his hands and pinned them above my head. He straddled me, pushing his weight down on me as his tongue probed my mouth.

I suddenly felt trapped, smothered, and I didn't like it.

I squirmed underneath him until he finally loosened his grip on my wrists.

He pulled back slightly and looked down at me. The expression on his face was one of pure annoyance. Actually, he looked about trigger's breath away from being down right angry, so I said the first thing I could think of that might appease him.

"I've never..." I started. I was torn between wanting to let him know I was a virgin and wanting to at least pretend that I had some clue as to what I was doing. But then, maybe that wasn't what he was pissed about.

His face softened slightly at my words, "I know, it's okay, sweetheart."

Sweetheart?

"You know?" My voice squeaked in a decidedly unmasculine way. Did I just scream virgin?

"I can tell," he said with a condescending smile. "Don't worry, I'll be gentle with that sweet virgin hole of yours."

'Predatory' was the only word that could describe his gaze, but I was frozen in a hazy, apathetic acceptance. He unbuckled his belt and shoved his jeans down. I took a look at him, but he moved too quickly for me to get more than a glance. I only managed to determine that what he was packing wasn't particularly impressive. Then, he was on top of me again, and I felt it rubbing against me.

It was only at that moment I realized that I wasn't hard.

At all.

This wasn't how I imagined this happening.

Of course, I thought about sex all the time, I was a nineteen year old guy. But, other than some celebrity-filled wank fantasies, it was always Edward who starred in my desirous thoughts.

Edward fucking Cullen.

With his bronze hair and his smirk and the way the muscles rippled in his back. I imagined him on his hands and knees, giving himself to me freely. I imagined bending over his body while I entered him. Sometimes, I even imagined him doing the same for me, only he would insist that I face him so he could kiss me into oblivion with his soft, full lips.

Edward Cullen, who, his twin sister insisted, wanted to be with me.

Would he want me if he knew I had lost my virginity to some guy named James when I was drunk off my ass? Would he ever put himself in a situation like this? Would he ever be so pathetic to let some random guy fuck him at a party? Was that what I was about to do?

That was what I was about to do.

I sat up abruptly.

I nearly knocked James off the bed, and the expression on his face would have been comical had I not just been nearly date raped by the jackass.

"Sorry, I can't do this," I stood up before he had a chance to try anything.

"What do you mean you can't do this," he sneered. Any attractiveness that I had found in his face before immediately vanished.

"That's what I said!" I shouted at him. I hoped that someone could hear me. "You're not going to fucking touch me."

I grabbed my shirt and bolted for the door, buttoning up my jeans along the way. He made a move to stop me, but we were similar in size, and I had adrenaline on my side.

I wanted to hit him square in his incredulous face, get him on the ground and beat the shit out of him, but the need to just get the fuck out of there was more pressing. Laurent saw me come running out of the hallway, and his face drained. I had no doubt that he didn't realize just what a creep his roommate was.

I grabbed an open bottle of whiskey from the kitchen on my way out without a second thought. Somehow, I found my coat from the closet by the door. I hoped Alice was okay, but I couldn't stay in this place for a second longer.

I burst out of the front door and gulped the cold, dry air like it would disappear into a vacuum at any moment.

I jogged away from the apartment building and back toward campus. I slowed down once I hit the familiar buildings of campus. It was chilly outside, but I barely felt it. I had a liquid blanket in my hand. Luckily, for the sake of my well-being, the bottle was only a quarter full. I took a huge swing, then plopped down on a bench and tried to catch my breath.

What was I doing?

I couldn't even really remember the last time I actually had fun at one of these parties. It was just something to do. I had a lot more fun with Paul and Jared when we would smuggle beer into the dorm.

My phone ringing broke me out of my brooding.

"Hey, Alice," I answered grimly.

"Are you okay, sugar?"

"I had to get out of there, Alice," my voice was strained. "I'm sorry to ditch you. I just, had to."

"I know, Jazz. It's okay. I ran into my friend Molly; we're going to go on a Taco Bell run. We can meet up with you?"

"Thanks, Ali, but I think I need to be alone."

"Jasper."

She didn't continue.

"Alice?"

"You don't have to be alone. You really don't."

My reply hitched in my throat. I knew exactly what she meant.

"Okay," I whispered. "I'll call you tomorrow."

I took another long pull from the bottle, savored the initial sweet and slightly smoky taste that rolled off my tongue, then enjoyed the slow burn of whiskey down my throat.

I slumped down on the bench, leaning forward. Damn, I was starting to get the spins. I raised my head up slowly, when a green, glowing light caught my eye. I looked up, and my eyes focused on a window in one of the campus buildings. It was most likely a professor's office, or a lab or something, but even though the blinds were pulled down, the light was still shining through it. I didn't know if it was a lamp, a bulb, or hell, some sort of radioactive ooze. It didn't matter.

It was so green.

And, I knew that shade of green. Sparkling, bright grass green, that in the right light had a tinge of blue. I remembered him sprawled out on his bed last summer. Lying tangled in his arms, just waking up, still sticky from the chocolate syrup we had licked off each other's bodies the night before. It was just after dawn and his head was turned so he was looking out the window. The rising sunlight was bright, and it caught his eyes just right, making them sparkle like something unearthly.

I remembered the way those eyes would pierced into mine. The expression in them was always unmistakable. He had seemed so mysterious in high school, but the longer I spent time with him, the more I realized that he wore his feelings on his sleeve. He never spoke about how he was feeling. He kept that bottled inside, but his body language and his eyes were unmistakable. The more I thought about it, the more I realized how well I knew how to read him. Not once did he ever look at me the way James did. I wasn't a conquest. I wasn't just an experiment. I wasn't just someone to fool around with.

Alice was right all along. By now, I should know not to bet against her.

Edward loved me.

He never once made me feel like I wasn't as good as him. He never made me feel stupid or weak. He never made me think of myself as anything other than his equal. He was always asking me questions about myself and really listened to the answers. He even seemed impressed with all the useless trivia I knew about baseball, and Civil War battles from watching too much History Channel. When we fooled around, he almost seemed more triumphant in getting me off than in satisfying himself.

He really loved me.

What was I so afraid of?

Was it because I knew I wasn't good enough for him?

I grimaced and took the last swig of whiskey.

I had an epiphany, then.

He made me want to be better.

I wanted to conquer that fear and be a man he could be proud of. I wanted him that much. I loved him that much.

I needed to tell him. I had to tell him. It was vital to my existence and my sanity that I at least tell him how I felt. If he wanted to reject me, then it was up to him.

I stood and wobbled, tossing the empty bottle aside, not caring where it landed.

The walk to the dorms took me a lot longer than it would have under other circumstances. But, I was determined; it was now my mission to get to Edward tonight. I tried to force myself to sober up as best I could, but that probably would have taken a miracle. Eventually, somehow, I made it to Ed's dorm. I hung around outside until one of his dorm mates, who was also stumbling home, opened the door for me.

Once inside, the next hurdle was trying to remember where Edward's room was. I had only been there once or twice before, with Alice, and since she knew where it was, I never paid that much attention. I was pretty sure it was on the second floor, so that's where I started. Luckily, R.A.s seemed to be universally obsessed – or ordered – to do stupid getting to know you exercises during Freshman orientation that involved making name tags. And, Edward was definitely the type of guy to keep his taped to his door the whole year.

I walked slowly down the corridor, keeping my right hand on the wall for balance, looking at doors on both sides of the hall. It seemed like I walked by at least four Johns, three Andrews and two Robs, but no Edwards. When I reached the end of the hallway, I was frustrated and let a loud "dammit" slip out.

When the door I was standing next to swung open, I nearly fell over from surprise.

Out stepped a disheveled guy in gray sweatpants and a UW t-shirt. I looked at the sign on his door and squinted. Shit. He was an R.A.

"Is there a problem?" he asked.

"Uh..." I hesitated. Of all the times for my brain not to cooperate.

"Look, I'd like to get back to sleep. So, give me one good reason why I shouldn't write you up?"

I stared at him for a long second, and then tried the only thing I could think of – brutal honesty.

"Well," I said with a grin. "For one, I don't even live in this dorm. For another, I'm sure the threat of getting written up might sound scary to a computer nerd who never even went away to sleep-away camp, but I'm pretty close to flunking out of this fine institution, and my dad's a retired Colonel from the U.S. Army. No offense, but you're just not that intimidating. Not to mention, if I do flunk out, I'll probably be on the next bus to boot camp, which is just about the last place I want to be, mostly because of the whole 'don't ask, don't tell' policy that someone thought was a good idea back in the 90s. That's right, I'm queer. Which leads me to the real reason why you shouldn't write me up. The real reason is that I'm a fucking idiot. I'm kind of in love with one the guys who lives here in this dorm. Even though I blew him off before, I need to tell him how I feel before I lose my nerve and wind up letting some drunk grad student with an overbite fuck me at a party."

The resident adviser's mouth had dropped open somewhere around the words 'boot camp,' and he hadn't been able to close it.

"So, I'm looking for Edward Cullen, and it would really be swell of you if you could tell me which room he's in."

He sputtered at me for a second as if trying to remember how to speak.

"316," he finally managed to squeak out. "Edward is in Room 316."

"Right! I knew he was on the third floor," I groaned with a smack to my forehead. I headed toward the stairwell, turning back to shout a "thanks" at the still agape R.A.

Sure enough, there was a construction paper sign taped to the door to Room 316 with a picture of Mr. T glued to it alongside Edward's name.

I knocked on his door.

I held my breath until it swung open.

He was disheveled, probably from sleeping. He was wearing plaid sleep pants and his hair was in complete disarray from its usual impressive structure. His eyes were sleepy and his lips were dry, and he looked absolutely ravishing.

When I saw him, I knew, even in my stupor, that I was home.

I threw my arms around him.

"Needed to see you," I murmured as he struggled against my weight. I knew I should let him go, that what I was doing was ridiculous, and that I may regret it in the morning, if he didn't throw me out first. "You have to know. You need to know," I muttered, but I don't think he heard me.

I vaguely remember him helping me undress and tucking me into his bed.

And me lifting up the covers for him.

I was completely and utterly disoriented when I regained consciousness later that morning. It took me a good long while before I realized I was not only still a virgin and not lying in some strange man's bed, but I was actually lying tucked up next to a very warm, very sexy Edward Cullen.

Huh?

As if Edward read my mind, he got up, giving me room. Then, a bottle of water appeared seemingly out of nowhere. I guzzled it without thinking, but as soon as that water started going down my throat, my stomach revolted.

I bolted.

Luckily our dorms were set up the same way, so I knew exactly where to find the bathroom. I had barely barged into the stall, before the contents of my evening came tumbling out of my mouth. I flushed the toilet and slumped against it, knowing that the worst wasn't over. It was only then that I realized I was clinging to a toilet in a boy's dormitory wearing nothing but my red boxer-briefs.

Oh well, there was nothing I could do about it now.

I heard the door swing open as the second round of vomiting began.

Edward's feet appeared next to the stall. I would recognize those feet anywhere. His second toe was longer than his big toe on both feet. Morton's toe, I once heard it called. He had a few brownish hairs curling out of the top of his big toe. His feet were calloused from running, but damn if I didn't want to put those toes in my mouth and suck on them.

My stomach churned.

Later, I told myself. Toe-sucking can come later.

He passed me a bottle of water under the stall door and told me he was leaving something on the counter for me. I really hoped it was mouthwash or a spare toothbrush, or something, because I refused to leave his room until I told him how I felt, and I really didn't want to do it with vomit-breath.

After I was pretty sure there was nothing left in my stomach to lose, I tried to clean myself up as much as possible. Edward had not only left me mouthwash, but he had also brought me aspirin, which until that moment, I hadn't realized I was in desperate need of.

I walked back to his room slowly, taking deep breaths while trying to get my confidence up. I tried to organize in my mind everything I wanted to tell him, but it was only making me more nervous.

Before I knew it, I was stepping back across the threshold of his room.

"Feeling better?" he asked when I entered.

"Much," I replied, trying to read his expression.

He looked at me for a second, and I could see him battling about what to say. Finally, his question burst out, wanting to know if I had meant what I said the night before.

I combed through my disjointed memories of the night before.

Shit. I could have told him anything last night, desperate to see him as I was.

I bit the bullet and asked, "What did I say?"

"You said you needed to see me, that you wanted to be sure."

I sighed in relief while plopping down on the futon.

I knew I owed him an explanation, I just had to trust I was ready to give it to him.

"I- I didn't- well, I still don't- I never. Shit." I sputtered. This wasn't going well. "Let me start over."

Edward had joined me on the futon and was inching a little closer to me. He looked into my eyes, as if trying to read my soul, before nodding.

"I've never really believed that I was worthy of you," I spit out in a rush.

Genuine shock appeared on Edward's face. I had seen Edward flustered, sure, but never before had I seen the boy look so genuinely confused. I was expecting agreement on his part, because I wasn't even remotely close to being worthy of his attention or affection. But, this, this was unexpected. More and more, I was beginning to see that Alice was right. So, I continued.

I told Edward about how much trouble I was having adjusting to college. About how I admired his self-discipline, his ability to focus on his school work, his ability to make new friends. I tried to explain to him how my life was growing up. Living with a man who took schedules and organization and discipline so seriously left me with a childhood that was completely structured. Until coming to college, I hadn't realized how dependent I was on that rigor. He had wake up calls and lights out as if he were checking the barracks. Coming to college really threw me off. For years, I wanted to be free of my father, but after I came out, I felt like I had already disappointed him so much, that I needed to do everything else he asked of me.

It sounded sort of pathetic as it came out of my mouth, but I needed to tell him everything.

"I guess I sort of lost it when I got here. I thought I didn't know who I was, and I just didn't feel like I deserved you. I didn't want you to see me this messed up. So, I rebelled. I drank too much, your sister was no help in that department, by the way, and I let a couple boys kiss me, put their hands down my pants to get me off. Well, and vice versa. I'm a cliché. I'm the kid who starts going apeshit because he's away from home for the first time."

I laughed bitterly.

"I didn't realize that I was hurting you until Alice let it slip. You just always seem so together. I couldn't imagine that I, in my pathetic state, could cause a chink in your armor."

I barely got the last words out without my voice breaking into a sob. I had to tell him what had happened, or almost happened, at the party the night before. I took another deep breath and continued.

"Knowing that, well, it made me feel even worse. So, for the past couple weeks, I've just been drinking more and more. And then... something... happened last night."

His hand darted out and grabbed mine, squeezing it, reassuring me that I could continue.

God, I really didn't deserve him.

So, I told him everything I could remember. I told him about James, and as I began explaining what happened, I realized more and more that what happened really was almost date rape. Even though I had kind of agreed to go to back to James' bedroom, well, wordlessly followed, I had been shitfaced, and I definitely wasn't in control of my actions. Two things were abundantly clear to me. One, I needed to cut back on my drinking; and two, I never wanted to have sex while myself or my partner was under the influence of anything. What kind of person was James who would willingly fuck someone who was clearly borderline coherent? I was exactly the girl in the afterschool special reruns we had to watch in health class in high school.

I had to choke back another sob.

Why didn't I fight back immediately? How could I lose myself like that?

I looked back at Edward, and his face was a mixture of sympathy and horror.

"You didn't..." he began to ask.

"No. I stopped him," I said immediately. As I looked into his startling green eyes, I knew I was looking into a beacon. Deep in my gut, I knew that Edward's role in saving me from myself last night wasn't just a passing fancy. "I... I thought about you, Ed, and how sure of yourself you are and how you would never let yourself be a victim like that. And, it just reminded me of who I am, and I realized that I had the strength to walk away from him. So, that's just what I did. I guess it never really sunk in before that I am the only one who can decide what I want and don't want. And I... well, I wanted to share my first time with you. You've probably already... but even if you have... I still want mine to be with you."

I knew I was blushing. For the first time in my life, I was glad that I was a virgin, and I was almost proud to admit that to the man in front of me. My stomach began to turn again, though, at the thought of him with someone else, especially knowing that had I not been such a jackass, I could have had that experience with him.

That's why I was shocked by his own admission.

"No," he began, and I felt my heart drop. He saw my expression and continued hurriedly, "No, as in I haven't already, you know, had sex. I haven't really done much of anything since last summer. I- I just never found anyone I was as interested in as I was in you. Even when I finally convinced myself that you didn't want me-"

I opened my lips immediately to apologize, but his finger quickly pressed against my lips to stop me. He shook his head quietly and whispered,

"No apologizes, Jasper. It's not your fault you weren't ready for anything more serious."

I pressed my lips back against his finger with a soft kiss before he continued.

"I tried to date, after winter break. I sort of went out with this guy one of my QSA friends set me up with. Everything was fine until was got back to his place. We started making out, but then he unbuttoned my pants, and it just didn't felt so wrong – I left."

I knew I had absolutely no right to feel jealous, but I really didn't like the idea of anyone else touching Edward. Before I could conjure unwanted images of another set of hands touching him, he continued.

"That night," his voice was even softer now. "That night, I had a panic attack in the shower. I- I thought that I was going to die. I don't think it was because of what happened, but I- I kind of associated the two and I decided that I didn't need to add dating to my growing list of shit to worry about. Plus, I guess, I was still kind of hoping..."

He trailed off and looked into my eyes again, but his meaning wasn't lost on me. I couldn't believe it. He still wanted me. But, as grateful as I was that Edward hadn't been off having mindless sex, I felt awful that he was having panic attacks. I knew I needed to keep going with my story. I knew I needed to tell him how I felt. Somehow, I knew that he needed to know it, just as much as I needed to say it.

So, the rest came spilling out.

I told him about the green light and the epiphany I had, and I tried to express just how much I needed him. But, I was concentrating so hard on getting the words out, I wasn't exactly sure what I was saying. I was trying to tell him how much I admired him and wanted him. About how he was the rock I needed in my life to ground me, but I was simultaneously trying to pay attention to Edward's reaction. He was silent, and his eyes were boring into me.

"What were you afraid to say to me last night?" He finally asked.

My heart sunk, in my drunken ramblings did I let my feelings slip? He would never have believed me if I had told him then. So, I met his eyes and gathered all the confidence I could muster.

"I'm not afraid to tell you. I just didn't want to do it while being sloppy and stumbling drunk."

"Tell me what?"

"That I love you."

His whole body went rigid and his eyes were wide as saucers. Disbelief was scrawled across his face. My heart started beating again, once I realized that it wasn't rejection. I grabbed his hand in both of mine and met his eyes, imploring him silently to hear the truth in my words, and then it happened:

"I love you, too."

I wrapped arms around him then, and I buried my face in his neck, drinking in his delicious scent. I was squeezing him so tightly, I was almost afraid of hurting him. But, his own arms were gripping me just as tightly.

After a minute, I mumbled into his neck.

"Edward, there's one more thing."

He pulled back a little, and a hint of the despair from before crossed his expression, "What is it, Jasper?"

I looked at him sheepishly.

"Um, I may have outed you to the R.A. on the second floor last night."

He tossed his head back and laughed, and then his sweet grip around my body returned.