As usual, thanks to Leckadams for spending her hard earned money on this not-so-little story.
I'm sorry for the long wait. I've been down with the sickness, working long hours and had way too many holiday parties to go to.
This chapter started out at 4k. After editing and additions, it reached 9k at the halfway point I said "fuck it" and cut it off. So, this is only half of the chapter I'd planned on giving you.
I have a FGB auction one-shot to write. I'd wanted to get that done before the holiday, but this chapter just kept going and going and going. Anyway, that's next, so you'll have to wait for the other half of this chapter until after that is done. I'm hoping to write most of it this weekend, but you know how that goes…
Layne Faire is the best beta EVERRR.
Disclaimer – I do not own Twilight or any of its characters.
Chapter 8
Sex.
I've thought about it - for sure.
I've envisioned it - yeah, a lot.
I want to do it - no doubt about it.
And with Jasper…Sweet, sweet Lord.
My hands are trembling so viciously at the thought that I have to lower the razor from my face,.
Taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, I brace my shaky palms on the edge of the sink and stare at my reflection in the bathroom mirror.
I don't look like a man about to have sex with the man of his dreams.
I look like a man that's about to face a firing squad.
We'd be spending the night together - in a bed. Sex will be implied. Not that I mind.
I want it…need to, even.
There's just one problem.
I've no idea what I'm doing, because I'm in way over my head.
Of course, I get the gist of man-sex. I've watched my share of porn recently, and read enough about it to give me a decent idea of what to expect.
I've endeavored to write about it too, but whenever I do, it seems fake and rehearsed, and I tend to question everything. I mean, how can you write about a dick up your ass when you've never actually felt it? Is it right just to mimic others, taking their words, and descriptions, as fact over the matter? Seriously.
Does your hole quiver in anticipation? Does the burn feel delicious?
When Jasper is touching the deepest part of me, will I feel complete and whole?
Maybe so, but without actually experiencing it, I'm just writing fiction.
I'm ready and willing - happy to learn the answers to these questions. To personally discover the truth of it all, to base my writing on firsthand experience, but there's no denying the very real base fear.
The fear of not knowing, the fear of doing it wrong, the fear of doing it right - but being really bad at it…
God, I just can't suck at being gay…please tell me I'm not going to suck at being gay.
The way Jasper spoke last night…when he described his fantasy - he had me in a role of dominance. In his scenario I'd been the 'bottom', but I was positioned on top, responsible for setting a pace and rhythm…all the while tending to my own needs.
Holy Hell.
How am I supposed to accomplish all that? I've never been known for my multi-tasking skills, and I've never stated otherwise, dammit. I can barely walk and chew gum at the same time.
I'm not ashamed; I'll be the first to admit it – anytime - anywhere. He just needs to ask, or maybe I should just tell him straight out.
Now, I'm mad…
I pound my fist and stomp my foot, needing the physical display to emphasize the anger I feel.
…mad that he's put this kind of pressure on me. How am I supposed to perform with such high expectations?
On top of that stress, there are the other questions that continually plague me:
What if I cum as soon as he enters me? What if I cum before he enters me?
What if I'm so scared I can't even get it up? What if it doesn't fit?
What if Jasper wants me to top?
Oh my God.
The possibilities for tragedy and humiliation are endless…and the probability of such events occurring is dreadfully realistic.
I'll never be able to keep up with Jasper or his experience, and I won't be as agile or practiced. I won't know what he likes or wants, not like Jacob does. I'll fumble; I'll be anxious and uncontrolled.
It'll be a little frenetic and a lot clumsy.
And I'll probably cum before either of us really wants me to, but I must have faith…
Jasper knows what he's getting into with me.
He knows I'm inexperienced and that he'll be my first. But I'm in love with him. I'll give him all I have; I'll make him feel wanted and loved. I'll cherish every moment with him, and I'll make sure he knows this.
Surely, that will distract him from some of my inadequacies.
Faith.
He's been patient with me all along, so there's no real reason to believe that tonight, when he's showing me how to physically love a man, that he'll suddenly alter his game plan.
Jasper will take care of me.
Faith.
XXXXX
I sip my coffee, struggling not to stare out the front window while I wait for Jasper to arrive.
This has to be the first time I'm truly uncomfortable in Rosalie's presence. I squirm in my chair under her rabid scrutiny. She's looking at me oddly, she's quiet and similarly, nervous.
"So you and Jasper…you're…uh…friends now?" Oh boy.
"Yeah. Your brother is a great guy…um, we have a lot in common." My eyes drift to her inquiring ones, before they flit over different objects in the room, looking guilty as hell.
"Um, I'm just lucky to have found a friend here." I add, in case she suspects what I'm hell bent on making so damn obvious. I'm not a liar, and I don't like having to hide the truth. I feel really bad about downplaying my feelings for Jasper, but I'm sure she'll understand when I'm finally ready to explain.
I haven't said the words "I'm gay" out loud to anyone other than Jasper, and frankly the thought of doing so scares the living daylights out of me. I've imagined telling Alice, and without fail it causes me to cringe every single time.
I can't even bring myself to imagine telling my parents. Mentally preparing myself to just envision the conversation in which I enlighten my dad turns my stomach.
Just as the thought crosses my mind, my stomach lurches painfully.
Not ready yet! Not ready yet! Don't go there.
Thankfully Rosalie snaps me back to reality. "Yeah, that's really great Edward. It really is. It's really nice that you've found someone to hang out with. Yeah…really…" Her voice is strained, and it seems like she's really trying to convince herself of this.
I wonder if saying "really" repeatedly can actually make everything seem cool.
"Hey dad, I'm really gay, but it's really okay. Really."
My stomach heaves, and then drops dead to the floor.
No, no, no…nothing's cool…nothing's cool.
"Are you feelin' okay?" Rosalie asks, in reaction to my sickly moan.
"Just a little indigestion." I lie, holding what remains of my hollow abdomen.
I point over to the stack of old blankets folded by the door, searching desperately for any excuse to change the subject, and erase my short-term memory (but only like the last five minutes, because I want to remember yesterday – every second of it).
"What does Jasper need those for?"
"Oh, he covers his furniture up with 'em. Doesn't want to expose 'em to the elements, or have 'em rattlin' around in the back of the truck while your makin' your way there."
"That makes sense."
Her smile falters, and she fidgets with the placemat in front of her.
I've never seen her quite so jittery or…speechless, but I realize where the reason for her discontent is stemming from. She's worried about her brother – I don't blame her, not one bit. One day soon, I hope to rid her of her fears, but right now, I don't even know what I have to offer, or what Jasper's willing to give, and without those answers I'd only make things worse for her.
Looking at her watch for the hundredth time, she suddenly jumps up. "Let me gather some treats for you to take a long with you. I've got to get my hands on some of Peter's cornbread, so you be sure that you swap it for some of the goodies I'm givin' you."
She presses on the door to the kitchen before turning halfway around, her brows furrowing. "I'll bring you some antacids too."
I hadn't realized I still had my hands wrapped around my waist. She nods her head sharply, approving of her own idea, and without another word, leaves the room.
I take the few moments of reprieve to lay my head on the table. I'm a cluster of nervous energy, and I seriously need to get my shit together. I take deep, lazy breaths while I focus on relaxing each one of my muscles - one by one.
It seems to help, because when Rosalie returns minutes later with a large paper brown filled with sweetness in one hand, and a glass of water and three Tums in the other, our smiles seem more genuine than they have all morning.
The awkwardness seems to have momentarily dissipated while we chat about Jasper's friends. She also informs me that Irina and Jane will be leaving this afternoon. They were supposed to stay through next week, but apparently they've been called home for some unknown cause.
I'm not sorry to see them go, they make me incredibly nervous, but I don't wish any hardship on them, either. I hope that all is well, and that they aren't departing under dire circumstances.
As if on cue, their ears probably ringing, Irina skips into the dining room, with Jane gliding in quietly behind her. "Hey Edward!" Irina greets, happily.
I smile back, hoping her exuberance indicates they aren't having troubles at home.
She doesn't hesitate to walk right up to me and circle her arms around my neck. "I'm glad we were able to catch you before you left."
Rosalie sneaks out of the room with an apology in her eyes, but offsets her sincerity with an evil snicker.
I happen to still be sitting, making Irina's hug awkward. I stumble, attempting to stand up and return her hug. As usual, Jane analyzes the interaction without words or expression. When Irina finally lets go, Jane doesn't embrace me but she stands close enough that I can see my reflection in her ever-inquisitive gaze.
"I hope you take much care, Edward." She finally says. "I hope you find life full and satisfying."
I have this sudden urge to shake her, to ask if she ever says anything normal.
"You've changed since we've been here." She notices. "There's a flush to your cheeks, and a sparkle in your eye. Healthier…don't you think, Irina?" Her eyes flicker to her sister for confirmation. Irina joins her sister, placing an arm over her shoulder, while they both study me.
If there hadn't been a flush to my cheeks before, I'm certain there is now.
Irina brushes the heated skin of my cheekbone with cool fingertips. I seem to be paralyzed while the pads of her fingers skim over my face.
"Chase that feeling Edward…follow what makes your heart happy. It will lead you to places and heights you could never imagine," she whispers, as if not wanting to break this spell I'm under.
She withdraws her hand, then states matter-of-factly, "You'll have plenty of hard decisions to make in this life, Edward, so make them wisely. Look deep within yourself; you'll be happier than you ever thought possible. I promise."
I wish I could just blow off what she says as nonsense. She's a young, naïve little girl…what does she know? But her words hit me hard. Neither of them can imagine what I'm going through right now, so she has no idea how much her words affect me, or how they filter into my current situation.
I swallow hard, managing a simple 'thank you'.
I hear Jasper's truck pull up the driveway, so shoving all the weirdness aside, I honestly wish them both well.
After I retrieve my backpack from my room, I notice that the blankets have disappeared, so I head out the front door.
Irina and Jane have accosted Jasper. He's gracing them with his best smile, and I hope it's because he happens to be in just as good a mood as I'm in.
I catch his eye over the shoulder of Jane. His smile spreads further, deepening his sexy dimples. We share a meaningful look, then he winks, before returning his attention to the girls.
Some of the monstrous burden that I've been carrying immediately lifts. Any worries that I'd carried about Jasper regretting any part of last night, or inviting me to come along with him today, are totally erased by the look of pure joyfulness on his face.
As I draw nearer, his eyes continue to search for me. It seems like he's having a hard time focusing on the girls, and it floors me that its even remotely possible for him to feel an inkling of what I do for him, but it's there - undeniably, in his stare.
Once I sidle up next to him, his fiery gaze travels over me, leaving my blood boiling in its trail. His intense perusal finally meets my eyes and he levels me with a look of pure want.
Unf.
That monstrosity of a burden? It's back, in full force.
But I refuse to let it get me down. I'll figure out how I'm going to satiate that fire in his eyes later.
Irina and Jane say their goodbyes to Jasper, and I can't help but notice the difference in the both of them while he's around. As they both stand before him, Irina is more subdued and shy, and Jane…her features have softened and her eyes glimmer, like large yellow sapphires - no persistent judgment or relentless inquisition to be found.
I understand now why Rosalie believes these girls have a thing for Jasper.
They're in complete awe of him.
If Jasper notices, he doesn't seem to mind, but he's probably so used to it, having to endure their odd behavior for the past several years.
"You ready to go?" He smirks, beautiful color spreading along his cheeks, blue eyes sparkling with mischief - and something else.
Exquisite.
Yeah, I'm a little afflicted with the awe, too.
I clear my throat, but decide to just nod instead, not trusting my voice at the moment.
Since he's already got the furniture wrapped in Rosalie's blankets; he says his goodbyes to the girls while I get in the truck.
Jasper stops to stub out the cigarette he'd been smoking on the heel of his boot, tossing the butt into a canister in the bed of truck before jumping in. It reminds me that he hadn't lit up at all on our date yesterday.
Once he's buckled in, I ask him about it.
"I've been tryin' to cut down." He shrugs, like it's no big deal.
I want to tell him that he doesn't have to cut down on my behalf; I really don't mind. But if I mention it, he'll just deny he's doing it for my benefit anyway.
He directs another heart-stopping smile at me, before propelling the car in reverse to back out of the long driveway. I don't think he's stopped smiling yet and I selfishly hope that it has everything to do with me.
"So, what's in the bag?"
"Rosalie stocked us up," I say, swinging the brown bag full of goodies in front of his face.
"Let…me…see." I open the bag to a variety of freshly baked goods. "Well, there's muffins, croissants, cinnamon rolls, pastries…"
"I'll start with a croissant and a bran muffin." He decides, reaching for the sack, but I quickly snatch it back, holding it against the far side of the cab, out of his reach.
"Rosalie said to save some for Peter and Embry. She want's me to barter for cornbread," I warn.
He raises his brows, while I hand him a single croissant, but I know the question in his eyes has more to do with my use of his friend's names.
Rosalie had told me about the couple this morning, watching me very carefully when she mentioned that they were gay. I did my best to act unfazed, and amazingly, I hadn't even flinched.
They're not exactly married, like Jasper had said, but they'd celebrated a commitment ceremony in April, which is as close as gays are going to get to marriage in the state of Louisiana.
According to Rosalie, the state won't recognize them as a legal couple, but the binds between Peter and Embry are identical to that of a marriage.
"Your sister told me a little about them today," I answer his unspoken question, and he nods in understanding.
Once the 'Welcome to Bon Terre' sign hits the rearview, I slowly scoot closer to him, edging inch-by-inch across the cab. I stare at him while I make my move, searching for any signs of annoyance or unwelcome.
He hums to the radio, watching me out of the corner of his eye, yet pretending that he's not paying attention. His smirk grows, and his obscure watchfulness becomes more evident the nearer I get. Finally he looks at me, another glorious smirk lighting up his face and eyes.
I return his smile shyly, ducking my head, but tentatively continuing my pursuit.
Sitting in the middle of the bench seat, I gingerly rest my hand on his thigh, just wanting the contact…wanting to be close, but not sure if he'll be receptive.
He pops the rest of the flaky treat into his mouth, wipes his hand on his jeans, then surprises me by hooking his arm around me, and bundling me into his side.
Cozily nestled in his half embrace, I sigh contentedly.
We drive in comfortable silence, while I enjoy the scenery along the interstate. I love this state, how different it is from the fast pace I'm accustomed to.
My heart begins to race, when I realize it's the perfect time to ask him some of the questions that have been pestering me. While I know it's not likely that I'll obtain all my answers today, there are some important topics that need to be broached - some more sensitive then others.
I have to figure out the best way to accomplish my goal without seeming nosy or offensive, by choosing my words carefully.
"Rosalie says that Embry is Cajun and Peter is, uh…white."
"Yep," he confirms.
"Was it a surprise to either of their families when they became a couple?"
"Embry had only come out to his family and friends a few months before he met Pete, so his mom and dad had to get over the shock of their oldest son being gay first. It could've gone better, for sure, but they came around."
He sighs heavily.
"Then Embry's parents learned about Pete, and that was a whole new hurdle for them to get over. To make a long story short, his parents eventually realized that you can't help who you love, and accepted Pete into the family. When his family showed their support, so did the rest of their community."
"What about Peter's family?"
"He only has a brother, who lives in Washington. Pete's mom died of cancer when he was a young'un; his dad passed from a heart attack eight years ago. He'd never confided in his father about his sexuality, since he was still figurin' things out for himself, but when he eventually got around to tellin' his brother, Jared… let's just say it got messy. He'd said some nasty things, they fought, and it ended with Pete in the ER. Jared tried to apologize years later, but most of the damage was irreparable, and their relationship is strained – at best."
"So, how did you come to know them?"
"Pete was my first friend in Bon Terre. And before you ask, no, we never dated. He introduced me to The Island for the first time, and that's where he met Embry a few years later."
"So, is Jacob Cajun?" I have no doubt that Jacob is…it's sneaky, but a perfect segue into what I really want to know about the man.
"Yes." He says, briskly. His thigh tightens under my grip, but I don't let his distress deter me. In fact it encourages me to jump in –
- Headfirst.
"Does he know that I'm here with you today? About us going out yesterday?" I ask quietly, picking at invisible lint on my jeans.
"Yes…no. It's…shit, it's not like that between us, Edward," he huffs, frustrated, "I don't give him a fuckin' itinerary."
His hand leaves the steering wheel so he can scrub his face, and then there's silence. A shitload of uncomfortable, disturbing silence.
"I'm sorry, I guess I owe you an explanation for him," he acquiesces.
He hesitates, probably trying to decide how to define this sordid 'relationship' to someone who doesn't quite understand this way of life. "Jacob's a diversion, Edward. Nothin' more. I'm the same for him. We have an understanding." He explains, vaguely.
"Is that 'understanding' still applicable while we're seeing each other?"
He looks ill. He's not the only one that finds this conversation distasteful. I loathe it, just as much as he, but I can't move forward until I know for certain.
"I told him that I'd be with you for as long as you decide to stay." His words are somber, laced with sorrow, causing my gut to twist into a tight knot…because I feel it, too. The turmoil I've been battling to suppress in regards to my leaving him is beginning to gnaw at me, begging for further contemplation and a more ideal resolution.
But it sounds like he's saying he wants me too, no matter how long I choose to stay. I'll have to dwell on his words - decipher the context and discover any hidden meanings very soon.
"How did he take that news?"
"I don't want to waste any of our time talking about Jacob." His discomfort is obvious.
It's time to put this subject to rest.
"I just need to know if you'll be seeing him too."
"No. I'd never do that," he insists, quickly and adamantly, leaving no doubt in my mind of his honesty.
He squeezes my side and I writhe, giggling from his ticklish touch, but he's persistent until I look up at him.
When I do, he stops tickling me, but he stares back, hard.
"I promise. I'm all yours."
My eyes drift over his gorgeous face, not ready to believe what I'd just heard.
"You're all mine." I clarify. "And I'm all yours."
Until I'm gone.
He's thinking it, and so I'm I. It's in the serious set of his jaw, and the distress entrenched in the steely blue depths of his eyes.
Does he see the haunted emotions reflected back at him?
What have I done?
What kind of situation have I put us in? Is this what he'd been trying to deflect all along by staying away from me?
Unfortunately, it's all beginning to make sense.
Too little, too late.
Satisfied that I'd not have to worry about Jacob at least, I drop the unpleasant subject. I search for a new one that will lighten the mood, but he beats me to it, apparently having the same goal in mind.
"So, what kind of car do you drive back home?"
His question makes me smile.
He wants to learn all the little things about me too, and that momentarily causes me forget all about my previous melancholy.
Still, I ask why he wants to know.
"Because you can tell a lot about a person by the car that they drive."
It's funny that he assumes I have a car. I do, but not everyone in my area is as lucky. Residing in a downtown borough, most people rely on public transportation. Here, I realize, having your own transportation is quite necessary.
"Oh…um, I drive a Volvo," I state, proudly.
"So, what does that say about me?" I ask curiously, not expecting to almost fall out of his arms from his raucous bout of laughter.
"What's so funny?" I cross my arms, puffing out my bottom lip in a seriously indignant pout. I imagine I look like a two-year-old, but my car just so happens to be my baby.
"Nothin'." But he snickers, just to prove how much of a liar he is. "It just figures," he adds, his words surrounded by more annoying chuckles.
"Well, what does my car say about me?" I demand, not bothering to hide my irritation - at all.
I give him credit for attempting to stifle his hilarity, but it's still there, watering his eyes.
"Well?" I urge.
"It means you're totally gay." And the fit of giggles continue.
What? The make of a car doesn't denote homosexuality.
It says that I'm…I'm…practical…and…and sensible.
"Asshole," I fume, but I can't stop the smile that creeps up on my face, and the sudden laughter that bursts from my chest.
Most of the morning is spent learning the little things about each other, playing something similar to Twenty Questions.
Halfway to our destination my bladder demands a pit stop. Jasper waits outside while I take a leak, using the few minutes to stretch his legs. When I return, he's leaning against the truck, hands in pockets, an inscrutable expression marring his angelic features. He appears to be deep in thought, and I'd love to know what's going on in his mind.
His eyes glance in my direction, and he straightens out, smiling broadly. I smile back, catching his blush before he lowers his gaze to his feet, running his hand through his hair, scratching, and mussing it deliciously.
Without words we climb into the truck and I resume my previous position, sliding across the bench to burrow underneath his arm.
He slips the key in the ignition, but before he starts the engine, I lift my lips, planting a smooch on the side of his mouth. I back off just enough so he can turn his face more toward me, and when he automatically complies, I kiss him again - this time a little harder. He quickly takes charge, cradling the side of my neck, securing his hold on me, while his tongue presses against my lips. I part them, welcoming his silky tongue into my mouth.
I do some imprisoning of my own, grasping a handful of his hair.
He likes this.
He growls and bites my bottom lip. I moan.
Because I like it too… a lot.
His kiss becomes harsh and wet. With his fingers biting into my neck, his lips and tongue are on a mission, pressing harder, deeper…desperate.
Hot and heavy, my body molds to him the best I can in the tight quarters. I grate my lips and tongue against his, and pull frantically at the hair trapped within my fist.
It never seems to take much to get us going.
After long moments we wrest ourselves from each other, winded, grappling for oxygen.
Both of his hands clutch at the steering wheel while he struggles to regain his composure, eyes pinching shut in severe concentration.
After several seconds, he chuckles darkly. When his eyes open, the blue is sharp…hungry.
"Am I ever going to have you at my leisure or are you always going to drive me to insanity?" He breathes out.
I clasp the back of his neck, drawing him to me again, but this time I don't allow our lips to connect. My tongue flicks the crease between his lips, tracing the outline of his bottom one. As expected, he parts them, but instead of delving into the sweet recesses, I continue to lap at his lips until his tongue comes out to join mine. They mingle openly, swirling and dancing, in wonderful, torturous play. But it's not close enough.
I want to meld…merge. I want him inside of me - and not just his tongue.
He gives in first, fusing his mouth to mine.
His lips are soft, but virile. This kiss is slower, more sensuous, but it's no less aggressive than before. He makes love to my mouth, sliding in and out, pistoning slowly, using his tongue to show me exactly what he'd like to be doing to me with other parts of his body. It's ardent and all consuming. His kiss is a merciless passion that demands nothing less in return, and as if I have a choice in the matter, I give him all I have, hoping it's enough for him.
Jasper pulls away, gasping. "We'll never make it to Pete's if we keep this up."
I blush, slinking back into the comfort of his arm. With his free hand, Jasper not so discreetly adjusts himself. I see the outline of his straining cock when he squeezes it, adding pressure, while he slides the impressive length to a more comfortable position.
Mesmerized, I reach out with a desire to feel that hardness against my fingertips, but he snags my wrist before I can capture the prize. Bringing my hand to his mouth, he kisses my fingers one by one, even sucking one into his mouth, before nipping at the inside of my palm.
Shutting his eyes again, he whispers against my skin. "Jesus, Edward. Not now…please."
If I were to insist, I know he'd give in. It's clear he wants to pursue the matter, but this isn't the right time or place.
So, instead of persuading him to park in a more inconspicuous area for a repeat of last night, I grumble, adjusting my own erection.
"So, whose turn is it?" Once we're back on the road, Jasper is anxious to get back to our game, and I wonder if maybe there's something he wants to know about me, but has yet to ask.
"I think it's mine. Let me see…"
He had yet to tell me about Alec, and I'd decided earlier that I want him to tell me on his own terms. I'm afraid that if I were to mention Alec, then Jasper would accuse me of engaging in gossip with Seth, and that's not what that conversation was all about.
Besides, it's not fair for me to bring up his ex-boyfriend to him. I'm confident that once he gets to know me better that he'll confide in me - if not today, certainly at some point in the near future.
"So, when did you come out?"
"I was fourteen when I told Rose, nineteen when I told my parents." He didn't have to think too hard about it…barely hesitated, but I guess you don't forget something as important as that.
"Continue," I urge.
He smirks. "There really isn't much to say. I tried datin' a girl named Maggie, but I ended up fallin' for her brother Billy. Rose was more surprised then my parents. But they said they'd love me no matter what. It just sucks that they only have Rose to rely on for grandbabies." He shrugs, but the expression on his face is wistful, almost disappointed.
"You can have kids too," I assure him.
"Yeah, I know." He glances down at me, and shrugs again. "Maybe one day. You never can tell what little detours are going to pop up as you make you're way through life."
So true.
"So you've never been with a girl?" I ask.
"Nope." He gives me a sidelong glance, "but you have," he comments, softly.
I peer out the side window, not sure what to say to that, so I just nod, silently.
I really don't want to revisit any of those disastrous experiences, and I'll plead with him to change the subject if he persists on asking for more details.
But Jasper is quiet, thoughtful. He looks conflicted.
"Are you sure this is what you want for yourself? Bein' gay isn't all fun and games, Edward. There are a lot of bigots out there."
"Everyone seems to accept you."
He chuckles, but it's wry. "There are still a few stubborn folks in Bon Terre, and we get plenty of tourists that aren't too happy when they see two men holdin' hands."
"Well, I've never been happier, or more content in my entire life than I am right in this moment." I hope he realizes that gravity of that statement – the truth in it, even if I'm not able to express it publicly yet.
"You were never happy with Bella?"
I'm surprised he remembers her name, and by the sudden strain beneath my fingertips, I have a feeling that this is the question he's wanted to ask. So I think carefully, needing to answer this correctly, since it seems to be important to him.
But I struggle.
"Yeah, I was happy, I suppose, in a way. Shit…it's really hard to explain. I was happy when we were friends. Even though the passion wasn't there, I'd really believed that we could make a life together. It's the intimacy that drove a wedge between us. We didn't…" I join my hands, trying to articulate physically what I mean to say, since the words won't come,"…fit…click…I don't know..."
I can't seem to find the words for the feelings I'd gone through during those tumultuous, depressing moments after Bella and I had sex, and I certainly don't want to relive them now, just so he could gain a better understanding.
Thankfully, Jasper either takes pity on me, or somewhat recognizes my incompetence in explaining something so very complex.
"So, she got married recently...right? Are you okay with that?" His concern is endearing.
"Yeah…I'm good," I reassure him.
I kiss his jaw, rubbing my lips against his prickly skin.
"I'm much more than good."
XXXXX
Stay Still by Edward M. Cullen - cont'd
His back pocket vibrates again, but Jeremy continues to ignore the calls that have been coming in every five minutes. He knows where the calls are coming from, that's why he isn't answering them.
The room is pitch black. He lets the darkness swallow him whole, wishing he could just disappear, blending into its nothingness.
He downs another shot, allowing the fire to dull the pain in his chest and the ache in his belly.
The goal is to get wasted beyond belief, so much so that he won't remember where he's supposed to be right now, or what awaits him tomorrow.
It can't be true.
But there's no denying the evidence. After the fingerprints had been analyzed, and private interviews conducted, the case isn't solid, but it's growing into an irrefutable, cataclysmic mindfuck.
Pouring another, he swallows a blistering shot of bitterness, and the sting is welcome.
He just wants to forget…
Forget this stupid little town…
Forget his job…
Forget his duty…
Forget his own name…
Forget that tomorrow he'll have to accuse his best friend, and the only person that means anything at all to him, of murder.
XXXXX
Next thing I know, I'm being gently shaken. Warm, strong hands seize my arms, a sexy southern voice ringing through the haze. "Were here, Edward. Time to wake up."
I open my eyes as we're pulling into a short driveway. I must've fallen asleep on Jasper again.
I just can't seem to help it. He's so damn comfortable.
Being in his arms is like curling up in front of a cozy fire on a wintery Chicago night, with a big blanket draped around me, soft music in the background and a good book in my lap.
While attempting to pat down my unkempt hair and straighten my wrinkled clothing, I take in my surroundings. We're in a neighborhood where identical, cookie-cutter houses fit closely together on narrow lots. The small, older dwellings are tidy and well kept, with manicured lawns and fresh blooming flowers.
The area is brimming with activity, children of different ages ride their skateboards and bikes down the paved subdivided road, and several neighbors hang over their fences, beverages in hand, engaging in conversation. It's clear that this is a close-knit community and I can't help but think of how differently I'd grown up - how different my life is even now.
Embry and Peter reach the porch while Jasper backs slowly into the drive, making it easier to unload the precious cargo.
Immediately, I recognize Peter from my first trip to Sinner's Island. I don't recall seeing Embry that night, but I remember Peter well. When we were leaving, he'd stopped Jasper to talk, and I was forced to watch Jasper smile at him…touch him. I hadn't liked it, and at the time I didn't understand why. It wasn't until the next morning that I'd discovered my feelings were that of jealousy. Peter had been touching the man I'd unknowingly fallen for.
He's a good-looking guy. He's tall, and like Jasper, full of lean muscle. His hair is a dark, rich brown. He wears it longer, his bangs reaching the bridge of his nose and the back trailing just past the collar of a well-worn Led Zeppelin t-shirt. He sweeps it back from his face, revealing deep hazelnut eyes. His lips are on the thinner side, but his smile is admittedly hot.
Embry is handsome, but definitely, not my type – probably because he reminds me of Jacob. They both have the same olive skin and black hair, the same piercing dark eyes. He's a little shorter than Jacob, and built like a powerhouse. A wide chest, thick neck and bulging biceps torture the seams of his plain gray t-shirt.
I believed Jasper when he told me that him and Peter have never had a sexual relationship, so I should have no reason to believe that there will be any sort of enmity between us, but the look Peter bestows on me when I exit the truck concerns me.
He eyes me, not with curiosity, but with mild derision. It's almost indiscernible, and he quickly hides it under a mask of welcome. He's blatantly standoffish, his eyes avoiding mine, while he favors Jasper with a huge smile.
I swallow down my pride and plaster a smile on my face. Peter's a really good friend of Jasper's and I'd like to make a good first impression. I have a tendency to shrink around people I don't know, giving the false impression that I'm being stuck up. So, before I let my nerves and insecurities get the best of me, I ignore Peter's unfounded disposition and approach with my hand extended.
It's not easy for me.
It's not in my nature to be sociable, especially when I'm being given the evil eye, but when I clasp his hand in mine, and introduce myself to him and his husband, his expression falters, switching to one of contemplation.
After introductions are over, I'm glad to see that Peter's look has transformed into one of plain curiosity. Jasper jumps onto the bed of the truck, and gingerly pulls the blankets away from the heavy oak furniture.
All thoughts of making friends with his bestie flee.
This boy knows how to carve.
The intricate detail etched into the posts of both pieces is truly marvelous.
This is one of a kind. No one will ever own another piece like it.
Jasper seems to hesitate before he pulls the last of the blankets away. When he uncovers the footboard, it literally makes my breath catch.
A wolf, mid-run, had been carved into the outside of the piece. From its deadly fangs to its protruding nails the mammal looks brutally fierce, but Jasper's caught something else –the subtleness around its eyes and the tuft of fur between its ears, making it seem playful, almost childlike. Pure brilliance.
He's an artist.
"Oh my God," I breathe.
It's obvious that a lot of time and effort has been put into this gift, and I hope his friends appreciate it. I drag my gaze away from his mastery to gauge the reactions of the newlyweds, pleased by their appearances.
Peter looks like he's going to cry; Embry is in total shock.
I feel this surge of pride, a knot forming in my chest, as I watch the scene unfold.
"Jasper, this is amazing," Embry whispers, completely awestruck.
"I'm just sorry that I couldn't have it ready for you're weddin' night." Jasper hangs his head in shame.
I don't think I could want him any more than I do right at this second.
And now, Peter is crying. He pulls Jasper down from the truck, flinging his arms around him. Jasper returns the hug whole-heartedly, but he's watching me over his shoulder, an indefinable expression on his face, one that makes my heart pump double-time.
Peter finally lets go and Embry gives Jasper a hearty slap on the back, but then breaks down and embraces him heartily.
Embry and Jasper are the strongest out of the four of us, so they elect to be the ones to maneuver the furniture indoors.
"Pronga to!" Peter cries out, as they gingerly lower the furniture to the ground.
Embry levels Peter with a look of measured exasperation, "Weren't you in the middle of making lunch?"
The question carries a deliberate message, causing Jasper to snicker and Peter to scoff.
I follow Peter into his house and even though my eyes wander about his abode, I know he's examining me.
The furniture in his home is older, a mish mash of different styles and flavors. Worn quilts are draped over well-used couches, mismatched living room tables deluged with piles of books and magazines. The mantle over the fireplace is cluttered with pictures, kid's drawings, and a pair of antique brass candleholders.
But strangely, it's not messy. It's homey and comfortable.
It's a room that's been lived in.
Everything in my apartment is stark. No color. No life.
There are no pictures.
I bought all new furniture when Bella and I split, wanting a fresh start. Most of it sits unused. After being in this house, I'm embarrassed by the way I live.
"Sorry, we're still kind of movin' in." His tone is a bit of snarky, drawing my attention back to him. There's a flush to his cheeks, and his eyes are averted.
"No…," I insist. "You have a lovely home."
His eyes dart to mine, searching for dishonesty; his expression becoming perplexed when he sees none.
"I love it," I say, not breaking eye contact. "I'd barely call my apartment a home, after being here. I'm envious." His shoulders relax and he offers a closed smile. "But I must know...what is that delicious smell?"
When Peter smiles – he's gorgeous. There's a glint in his eyes and a freshness to his skin that makes him look seventeen. "I have two loaves of cornbread in the oven."
"I've heard tales of this cornbread you speak of. I may not live if I don't bring enough back to satisfy Rosalie."
He laughs then, a lovely melodious sound that's rich and contagious.
"Where are my manners? You want a beer, bro?" He asks, jovially.
"Thanks, that'd be great."
"I'm just so used to people coming in and taking whatever they want that I'm not used to polite company." We head to the kitchen, where the décor is much the same, except for the monstrosity of a stainless steel double oven. It's shiny, newness sticks out like a sore thumb against the tattered cabinets and ancient refrigerator.
But the bottles are ice-cold, and at the end of the day, that's all that matters.
I help build chicken kebabs while Embry and Jasper make themselves busy putting the bed together. Peter coats the assembled kebab's with a mix of Cajun spices before setting them on a pre-heated grill.
Leading me to a rickety picnic table next to the barbeque, we watch the meat cook, while we sip our beers. He tells me about Embry's family, and how almost everything in his house is a hand-me-down from one relative or another.
"It's hard to say 'no', when one sister-in-law lives two doors down, and your mother-in-law lives in the house that butts up to your backyard." He explains.
My eyes widen and automatically shoot to the house only a few dozen yards away.
"No, no, no!" He declares, laughing. "Don't look! She's probably spying on us right now!"
I bury my head in my hands, unable to refrain from laughing at his horrid situation. No matter how much I love my sister, I wouldn't want her residing in the same neighborhood, let alone the same building.
But then I think of Rosalie and Emmett - the idea of living next door to them, and suddenly, I understand why Peter isn't so bothered by having his in-laws so close.
It's worth it.
"I notice you spoke some Cajun outside earlier. Do you do that for the benefit of his family?"
"No, ami. It comes naturally. I speak the language of my heart," He states simply. "Embry is my heart."
Peter scratches at the label on his bottle, and he fidgets in his seat. "Look, I'm sorry for earlier. I probably seemed rude, but when I saw you at The Island that night, you looked at me with such derision."
"I did?" I'd been upset that he'd touched Jasper…made him smile, but I hadn't realized I'd been displaying my emotions outwardly.
"Yeah. You don't remember?"
"I remember you, but I don't recall looking at you like that. I-I had a lot on my mind at the time, and I was pretty confused. It had nothing to do with you, I promise. I'm sorry I gave you that impression."
He smiles, taking another long pull from his beer. "So you and Jasper, huh?"
Peter + Rosalie = Alice
"No, we're…uh, just friends."
He looks skeptical, but doesn't say anything.
Jasper clears his throat at the patio door, choosing that exact moment to make an appearance. It startles me, but he just asks if I'm doing okay, if I need anything. I assure him I'm fine, and he stands awkwardly for a few seconds, before turning to retreat back into the house.
When I turn back to Peter, he's grinning.
"Just friends? That's too bad. I was beginning to think Jasper wasn't hopeless after all."
"Why do you say that?"
He frowns. "He hasn't made good choices. I worry about him." Sighing regretfully, he adds, "Have you had the pleasure of meeting his…'ami', for lack of a better word?"
"Jacob?" I remember the look of pure hatred he gave me when I left with Jasper that night. I shiver involuntarily. "Yeah…but I can't say it was a pleasure. I don't think he likes me very much."
"He probably pegged you two as being together."
"I can't imagine why he'd think that," I reply, maybe a little too zealously.
"Yeeeaaah…," He deadpans.
He's not buying it, and I'm not pushing it.
"Well, I'm tellin' you to watch out for Jacob. He's got no conscience."
Well, that earns my attention.
"Why do you say that?" He looks undecided, like maybe he shouldn't get involved. "Please, tell me," I urge.
"Dammit." A long arduous pause ensues. "Ages ago, Jacob and I had a little fling. It's not my proudest moment for sure, but I used to be pretty randy, and at one time, I'd thought Jacob was hot." His lips curl in distaste. Obviously, his opinion has deteriorated over time.
"It happened prior to Jasper or Rosalie moving to Bon Terre. Our affair lasted a whole week," he says, sarcasm evident in his tone. "It broke off amicably, and we both went our separate ways."
He takes another swig of his beer, taking his time swallowing, while I wait impatiently for the rest of the story.
When he continues, he's staring back into another time, "When I met Embry it was instant love. I knew the second I saw him I'd never want another. But, I found out the night I met Embry that he and Jacob are cousins." He snorts, "Just my luck, right?"
"To make matters worse, Embry and Jacob don't care for each other, so their relationship has always been tenuous." He hangs his head. "I screwed up. I should have told Embry about Jacob right away, but it happened soooo long ago that I didn't feel like I had to explain. I'd asked Jacob not to say anything and he agreed. He was with someone else by that time, and seemed happy enough with their - uh, situation - that I didn't think I had anything to worry about.
"A couple of years went by, but a week before our commitment ceremony Embry had a small bachelors party that his brother insisted on giving him. Well, Jacob showed up to the party - uninvited, and ornery as hell. He ended up throwin' our week-long affair in Embry's face. Embry called me...once, to get clarification. After I told him what Jacob had said was true, he'd hung up on me and called off the ceremony the next day. He hadn't even called to tell me. I found out from his mother that I wouldn't be getting married." He chokes up, reliving the horrific tale.
"Anyway, I'd never told Jasper about the affair either, and by this time him and Jacob had…well, whatever, goin' on. So, I told Jasper everything."
"How'd he take that news?"
"Jasper?" He snickers, "He didn't give two hoots. He thought it was funny until he'd learned of the consequences. He went to Embry right away, and helped me get my man back. He told me that Embry was already beginning to cave, but I still owe Jasper - big time. He's been such an awesome friend.
"I was hopin' that once he realized what Jacob was capable of that he'd stop seein' him, but he thinks what they have is ideal, and that it's not possible for Jacob to hurt him, since they don't have feelings for each other." He pauses for a moment, then grabs my hand, desperation in his eyes."He almost ruined my life, Edward, and I'd only been with him for one week. He's had this thing goin' on with Jasper for years."
I try to act unconcerned, but I'm shaken. I'm not worried he'll hurt me…I'll be gone in a month, but I fear for Jasper and his safety. Maybe, while I'm here, the least that I can do, is help sever this silly 'arrangement' he has with Jacob.
"Well, you guys are just friends anyway…," he shrugs, but taps his finger anxiously against the distorted wood of the old table.
"Yeah," I whisper, but there's no more conviction.
"Edward…just so y'know, Jasper's been in a relationship where it wasn't acknowledged publicly. It didn't work out to well." Peter's eyes and tone are accusing.
"It's complicated," I say, without actually admitting anything.
"It's worth it," he shoots back.
"I live in Chicago. It's where I'll be going back to in a little over a month. I-I…probably won't ever…," My voice cracks, my eyes welling up with tears, but somehow, I manage to keep them from falling.
"You'll be back, Edward. You won't easily forget the friends you make here."
XXXXX
The kebabs are served with dirty rice and thick, delectable pieces of cornbread. Embry is a kid at heart, joking and relaying funny stories that keep us laughing throughout the course of the meal.
Jasper has remained silent for most of it, only speaking when directly referred to. Jasper's not a chatterbox, by any means, but it's been a while since he's visited his best friend. I expected him to be more talkative.
The kitchen table is tiny, so when we sat down for lunch I automatically pulled my seat away from Jasper's to give us each more room. He must have felt similarly since he'd swiveled his body away from mine, giving us each additional space for our long limbs, but during the meal I also noticed that he wasn't making eye contact with me. I'd even strove to gain the connection on several occasions by asking him pointed questions, but his blue eyes barely glimpsed in my direction.
"So, how long have you two been a couple?" Embry asks, unaware of the mounting tension brewing between Jasper and me.
I'm caught off guard by the question, and I find myself tongue-tied. Jasper watches me squirm, smirking.
"Edward and I are just friends, nothin' more," he answers, in a clipped voice.
I give myself credit for remaining in my seat. I would never have expected him to answer like that. I'd thought that Jasper would expose me as the liar I am to Peter, but he hadn't, and I don't know if I'm more grateful or hurt.
To hear Jasper reiterate what I'd been saying all afternoon feels like a sucker punch to the center of my chest.
"Oh, I just thought…"
"Its okay, mari," Peter interrupts, patting his arm gently. Embry gets his husband's meaning, and stops talking.
I stare at Jasper, not caring at this point whether I'm wearing my heart on my sleeve.
He glances over, shrugging carelessly.
I've lost my appetite, pushing food around my plate, while he continues to chow down heartily. He even talks and smiles more after that, while I become increasingly more unresponsive.
We move to the living room and his attitude has changed greatly. He looks at me more, and involves me in his conversations. He does nothing to exclude me, even laughing at my poor attempts at humor. But it's driving me crazy - the way he's looking at me - as if I'm nothing to him…but a friend.
There are no secretive smiles, no meaningful glances, or private words…no stolen touches, not like I'd envisioned there'd be.
I feel sick.
Throughout the rest of the afternoon I start to believe the lie, too.
Jasper is so damn convincing, leaving me to suffer silently, biding my time until we get to the hotel, ready to prove that we are so much more than friends.
"We should get goin' Edward," He finally says, as if reading my thoughts. He extends his arm across the length of the sofa, patting me on the shoulder in a friendly manner.
There is no softness to it, nor any hidden meaning.
To be honest, I'm more than ready to leave. I really like Peter and Embry, but my nerves are frayed, and for the last hour I've been struggling not to fall into a totally baseless depression.
"We've got a long ride back home," he clarifies to the happy couple.
He doesn't want to stay the night anymore? Or is this just part of the ruse?
Goddammit, I hate how good he is at this vile game. On the road trip down here I'd thought that Jasper was beginning to have feelings for me, too, but now I'm not so sure.
Am I just another 'arrangement' to him?
Should it matter if I am? I have no right to care. Just because I have feelings for him, doesn't require him to return them.
After we say our goodbyes we head to the truck, but Peter holds me back, handing me a large Tupperware container. "This should tie Rosalie over until the next time."
He pulls me into an unforeseen, but welcomed hug. "It's been a long time since I've seen Jasper like this," he whispers. "Please…please don't hurt him."
I wonder if I have the power to hurt him.
The minute the truck leaves the driveway I'm anxious to demonstrate that we are not just friends, but when I slide across the bench, and try to take his face in my hands he confirms my worst fears by evading my touch.
"Don't," he warns darkly, pushing my questing hands away angrily.
"What the fuck, Edward?" He pulls over, slamming his hands down in punishing blows on the steering wheel. "I thought you said we were just friends…right?" He growls.
I'm ready to refute his statement, but he raises a hand, effectively halting the argument that's on the tip of my tongue.
His eyes close, and he utters, "don't."
When he finally looks at me, he's tired and defeated.
"I think you're right Edward. We need to just be friends."
I know…I know...this chapter wasn't supposed to end here, but I had to cut it off somewhere. Well, if you still think I deserve a review (because I still think I totally do), I'll send you the first paragraph of the next installment which should clear up any questions you have about the itty cliffy I left you with here.
Reminder - - I will be posting a FGB one-shot before this next chapter.
Leave me some love. I've missed you guys!