Page 21 of Make the Play
“Guess we’ll have to find out, eh, Red.”
Emerson scrunches up his nose, earning him one of Jason’s laughs. “Alright, not Red. First option knocked out. Came up with that one on the fly. Give me some time to think, and I’ll come up with something better.”
“You don’t have to,” Emerson points out.
“I know,” Jason says, “but I want to. Unless you don’t want me to.”
He’s so used to telling people what they want to hear, it’s a little startling to realize that he doesn’t feel that way with Jason. Somehow, despite barely knowing him, he doesn’t feel like he needs to lie. Maybe it’s the fact that Jason has already seen him at his worst more than once, or maybe it’s that he offered him fidgets and seems to care what he wants to be called, or maybe it’s that talking to Jason doesn’t feel exhausting like it does with other people. Whatever the reason, something about Jason makes him want things he’s never ever let himself want before. He knows he can’t have them, not with Jason, but maybe if he tried, friendship might be on the table.
“You could, um, try,” Emerson hedges. He twists his fingers, hoping he doesn’t look quite as nervous as he feels. “If it makes you happy.”
“You’re a good sport, Emerson.” Jason swings an arm around his shoulder, about to say something when he pulls back. “Shit, sorry. I’m kind of…a touchy guy. You might’ve noticed, but that doesn’t mean it’s okay to do it without permission. Maybe you hate being touched or something.”
“I don’t hate being touched,” Emerson mumbles.
“No? Good.” Jason reaches out again, and though he doesn’t loop his arm all the way around Emerson’s shoulder again, he does give it a squeeze. The touch is fleeting but firm. It’s a deep pressure that has Emerson exhaling the ball of tension in his chest. “Here’s me. My office is through the gym in the back corner.”
“You can fit all the kids in there?”
“Nah, usually I just pull out a bunch of gym mats, and people eat there or sit on the bleachers. Sometimes it’s only one or two kids, other times it’s two dozen. That gets loud which I don’t mind as much as when they steal my chips.”
“I don’t want anyone to steal my Doritos,” Emerson snaps, tightening his grip on his lunch bag. Landon always stole his food, even though he would eat anything, because it gave him some kind of power trip to take the few safe foods Emerson had. He can recognize that he’s maybe a little defensive about the prospect, but there’s no taking that little outburst back now. Thankfully, Jason seems unfazed by it.
“Luckily there’s no students in here today, but I promise if a time comes where someone tries to steal your Doritos—” Jason interrupts that thought with his next question. “What kind do you have anyway?”
“Ranch,” Emerson answers softly, unable to take his eyes off Jason’s expressive face. Maybe that’s part of what makes him easy to be around. His expressions and moods are so exaggerated that Emerson finds him easy to read,a far cry from how he feels around most people.
“Solid fucking choice,” Jason replies.
“Is there a choice you wouldn’t like?” Emerson asks, sensing that Jason might be happy with anything and everything.
“Not really,” Jason answers, confirming his suspicions with a smile so over the top that Emerson can’t help but return it. It is perhaps the first genuine smile he’s experienced since moving to Santa Leon. He’s gotten so used to masking, to pretending to have everything together all the time so no one questions what he can handle, that he forgot what it felt like to be relaxed and happy.
“So, you wanna eat in my office or out in the gym?” Jason asks.
Emerson looks around, slightly overwhelmed by the massive room with its echoing acoustics and too many windows. Gym was kind of a nightmare for him in high school on so many levels, and while he’s not a student any longer, he’s still not sure he’s up for this place yet. “Your office.”
“Office it is,” Jason says, taking a step forward. “Follow me.”
Emerson does, trailing after Jason towards the corner of the gym where there's a door tucked just off to the side behind a metal cage filled with basketballs. Jason reaches for the door handle, drawing Emerson’s attention to the rainbow sticker with the words‘you are safe here’stuck there at eye level where no one can miss it.
Safe.
What an elusive yet desired promise. So few things in Emerson’s life—places, people, food—are ever truly safe. To some people, it’s probably nothing more than a sticker, but for Emerson it’s so much more. He reads it again, the tightness he carries inside loosening imperceptibly.
Stepping inside Jason’s office reveals a room, both in size and design, much like he might have expected. There’s a desk with two chairs in front of it and the wall behind it adorned with Jason’s degrees and various trophies and awards from coaching. That’s where the expected ends. Opposite Jason’s desk are more awards and trophies, but the surprising thing is what’s above them, the upper half of the wall covered in pride flags. The kind Emerson never got to see growing up. The kind that would’ve made him feel so much safer if anyone at his old school had one. The kind that makes it clear the sticker on Jason’s office door isn’t there by accident or for show.
Everything about Jason is a dichotomy. His job as the physical education teacher and head coach along with his very visible jock aesthetic would indicate someone cocky and domineering, yet there’s a gentleness in his demeanor that is entirely unexpected. Jason has an easy countenance that is at odds with everything Emerson has ever known about jocks and now this. Is he queer too? Or an ally? It shouldn’t matter, but Emerson desperately wants to understand.
“That’s a lot of flags,” Emerson says, unsure how else to broach the conversation.
“I wanted to get one of each, but I ran out of wall space, you know? I got as many as I could though. My younger brother Alec helped me pick them out. That’s him here,” Jason says, stepping around Emerson and pointing to a photo of Jason with what he can only assume is his family. He taps his finger against the picture, pointing out the youngest person there, someone with a freckle faced smile and unruly curls. He couldn’t look more different than Jason aside from their wide smiles. “Then these two handsome assholes are my older brothers—that’s Charlie on the left and Andrew on the right. Twins, obviously. And then there are my parents between us and here next to Alec is Theo.”
“Theo is the uh, the one dating your brother?” Emerson says, hoping he got it right.
“Yup,” Jason confirms. “Weird as hell at first, partly because Alec is the baby of the family and had never actually dated anyone but also because Theo’s been my best friend since we were seven, so just meshing those together took awhile for my brain to handle. But you know how it is.”
Emerson does not in fact, have any idea how it is, but he stays quiet while Jason hums to himself, squatting down to open a small fridge next to the bookshelf. He pulls out a foil wrapped sandwich, a can of Coke and two containers of what appears to be butter spread. Confused, he watches Jason set them both down beside his sandwich along with the can of soda. Unable to bite his tongue at what he’s seeing, Emerson leans forward, elbows on his knees.
