Free Surrender to Me by Monica James Page A

nervous for another reason.
    “What’s up?” he questions.
    I have never been very good at hiding my emotions, and hiding them
from Jasper, who is super observant, has always been an issue. But now, funnily
enough, I don’t mind him being able to read me so well. I like that he is so in
sync with me, and I like that he cares enough to get to the bottom of what’s
bugging me.
    “I need to talk to you,” I finally spit out, while wringing my
hands.
    He raises his brow inquisitively. “Okay.”
    He passes the conversation baton over to me, and I all but throw it
to the ground and run screaming for the hills.
    Taking a deep calming breath, I psyche myself up as I can do this,
but I’d prefer not to in a place where his devious ex can comfort him if things
go south.
    “Not here.”
    His white smooth skin is illuminated by the stage lights, and that
tiny scar which mars his bottom lip seems to be highlighted under the bright
lights. I love that scar. That one blemish makes him all the more perfect
because I know the story behind it. When I look upon it, I am reminded of the
strength and hardships Jasper has faced in his lifetime.
    Throwing my arms around him, and burying my face into the crook in
his neck, I am petrified of losing him. I don’t know how he’s going to react
when I tell him about Harper. And that scares me. More than anything ever has.
    “Hey, what’s going on?” Jasper asks, his chin resting atop the crest
of my head.
    I am wrapped in a tight bear bug and I never want him to let go.
    Before I can answer him, the lights darken and I know Flames are
about to take to the stage, and I thank the stars I can delay this conversation
for at least another hour.
    Sadly, Jasper has other ideas. He pulls me out of his affectionate
embrace and yanks on my damp hand, escorting me down the stairs, to my imminent
doom.
     
    *****
     
    The car ride back to my apartment has been torture. Jasper has
attempted to get me to spill whatever is bugging me, but I want to tell him
when he’s sitting down, and not driving a high powered vehicle.
    As we are standing in the lift, surrounded by an unusual
uncomfortable silence, I begin to rehearse my speech. Now that I am minutes off
confessing my secret, I know no speech or excuse will justify my deceit.
    Thankfully the doors ding open and I bolt out, three steps in front
of Jasper. My apartment keys in my fist begin to tremble lightly when I raise
them to unlock my door. Only Jasper’s steady hand on mine stops my keys from
rattling.
    “Ava, you need to talk to me. You’re scaring the hell outta me.”
Hearing the concern in Jasper’s deep voice kills me, and I know that once I
open this door, Jasper might hate me.
    I am still facing my door, with my head bowed.
    “Come inside,” I whisper, finally getting my quivering fingers under
control.
    Jasper lets go of my hand and I turn the lock, which pops with a
loud click. I flinch at the sound because everything in this moment is
amplified.
    Walking over to my small kitchen bench, I throw my bag and keys onto
it, all the while avoiding Jasper’s eyes. I lean forward with my hands braced
on the counter, holding on for support. My back is turned to Jasper, but I know
he has taken a seat on the couch, as I can hear the squeaky springs whine in
protest.
    This is it Ava, time to shine.
    A million and one confessions are racing around my brain, but those
confessions are interrupted by my home phone ringing. I look at it.
    Ring. Ring. Ring.
    I wonder if answering it would be rude, considering I am about to
come clean about Harper. In hindsight, I wish I just ignored my doubt and
answered the fucking phone.
    The machine picks it up and my heart stops beating.
    “Hey babe, I miss you. Where have you been?”
    Spinning around so quickly, I almost lose my footing, but it’s not
my clumsy feet that nearly drop me on my ass. No, it’s Jasper’s blank
expression that almost has me tumbling to the kitchen floor.
    I make a frantic lunge