Free Playing for the Other Team by Sage C. Holloway Page B

refuge for a reason: he needed it. And I wondered why.
    “I could stand here and look at this all day,” I said carefully, watching Jasper’s face. His smile became marginally bigger. “I can see why—”
    —you feel safe here . I didn’t say it out loud. He hadn’t attested to the fact in words, and obvious as it was, I didn’t think he would like it very much if I flung it out into the open. So the unfinished sentence hung in the air, unacknowledged.
    Trying to ignore it, I sat down on the floor. I felt like it was the natural thing to do. Then I promptly felt silly, seeing as how there was a worn yet perfectly good futon sitting up against the spring wall. Before I could make a move toward it, however, Jasper came down to the floor as well. He was giving me that small smile again as he crossed his legs, that earnest, approving, content, yet strangely shy smile that made me feel more connected with him every time I saw it.
    “So,” he finally broke the silence, “you want to talk about how you cleverly outed yourself earlier today?”
    I groaned. “Don’t remind me.” I drew my arms up around my torso as though I were cold, and wished he hadn’t decided to lead with that topic.
    “I doubt it’s gonna go away if you ignore it, Bry,” he pointed out gently. “That and the thing with your mom. It’ll turn out okay in the end. I promise, baby. But we have to talk about it.”
    I blinked. Had he just called me baby? Scrutinizing his face, I couldn’t find anything that indicated he had misspoken. Maybe he hadn’t even noticed.
    “Have you seen your mom at all since…” Jasper made a small, vague hand gesture. “You know.”
    “No.” I knew I sounded bitter and didn’t care. “She avoided me this morning. Guess I should prepare myself for getting kicked out or whatever.”
    I didn’t really think she would do that—but then again, I also hadn’t expected her to slap me when I came out to her. The realization left me off-balance.
    “Talk to her again tonight.”
    When I opened my mouth to protest, Jasper pressed his finger to my lips and looked at me sternly. “She’s had a day to get used to the idea. A lot of what happened might have been the initial shock of it. Think back to how freaked out you were when you first told me. Talk to her. Tell her you need her support. Tell her that her reaction hurt you, but give her a chance to get it together. Give her a chance. Can you do that?”
    I lowered my gaze. “Maybe.”
    “Please, Bryson.”
    “I said maybe.”
    Jasper rolled his eyes but didn’t press further. I turned my head fully away from him and then sank back until I was lying flat on the carpet. Even the ceiling had been painted a light sky blue that matched the top of the walls. I tried to lose myself in it so I could forget all about my mom, about my anxiety that seemed to be getting more severe by the second.
    A small, tender brush against my forearm nearly made me shudder. I suppressed it just in time and glanced at Jasper, who had rolled over onto his side, facing me. He’d propped his head onto his arm and seemed about to withdraw his hand but then hesitated.
    “You okay?” His hand descended onto my waist in a gesture that wasn’t exactly a hug, and that only made me yearn harder for a source of actual comfort. I swallowed hard.
    “I don’t know,” I replied and realized only then that my voice was thick with barely suppressed tears. I blinked, trying my damnedest to keep them from falling—oh hell, apparently being openly gay went hand in hand with bawling in front of people—but I felt a drop of moisture descending from the corner of my eye and running down the side of my face despite my effort. “No,” I stated the obvious.
    Jasper leaned closer, over me. His face was concerned. I looked into his eyes and lost myself in their captivating color, barely registering the rapid quickening of my pulse. I wanted to kiss him so bad. So. Very. Bad.
    “Bryson,” he started,