Page 65 of Make the Play
Something settles in Jason. Thinking about himself is confusing and kind of annoying. Thinking about Emerson is easy. He would much prefer to focus his attention on soothing Emerson’s nerves than his own hot mess of a sexuality crisis.
“Don’t be, I’ll be with you the entire time. Well, maybe not the entire time because we’re supposed to periodically make rounds on the dance floor, and last year I had to break up something in the bathroom I wish I hadn’t seen. But I’ll be with you, like, ninety-eight percent of the night.”
“Ninety-eight percent, huh?”
“I’m trying to be very specific,” Jason grins. “However, if this is not accurate you have permission to be mad at me.”
“I won’t be mad at you,” Emerson says with a subtle shake of his head. “I’m not—I know we’re not there to have fun. We’re there to supervise and?—”
“Why aren’t we there to have fun?” Jason interrupts.
“Well, we’re the teachers,” Emerson says matter of factly.
“Teachers can have fun,” Jason tells him. “I plan on having a lot of fun.”
“Is someone else going?” Emerson asks.
“Is someone else—no. I mean fun withyou, Emmy.”
The look of surprise on his face is not something Jason thinks he can ever get used to.
“I’ve never been to a dance, not as a student or a teacher,” Emerson says, the hint of embarrassment coloring his tone. They’ve talked about it before, but Jason suspects their wildly different high school experiences left lasting impressions on each of them; Emerson’s, unfortunately, for the worse. “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do there. I can’t imagine that it will be very fun for you just to follow me around.”
Truthfully, there’s nothing Jason would rather do than spend an entire night following Emerson around. Before he can say this, Emerson is speaking again.
“I don’t mind taking over most of the rounds so you can enjoy yourself,” Emerson offers, as if Jason would let anyone, especially Emerson, take all the responsibility. As if for Jason there is anything in the world he would rather do than be with Emerson. Regardless of his new thoughts about holding hands and kissing, he’d still pick Emerson every time. Boring teacher duties and all.
“I’ll enjoy myself because you’re there,” Jason assures him, the huff of disbelief followed by the hint of a smile enough to soothe the caveman part of Jason itching to hide Emerson away so from now on, no one else can ever hurt his feelings again. It’s just impossible for Jason to believe that there are people who got to know him their entire life, and they never realized what a goddamn treasure he is.
Staring at those wide, green eyes all Jason can think is that Emerson is his favorite person. Even if nothing ever comes of his new feelings that would be okay; if nothing ever changes between them and all he ever gets are morning commutes and shared lunches and a phone full of text messages it will be enough because Emerson is enough.
Emerson iseverything.
Oh fucking shit, he doesn’t just have a crush on a man, he might be falling in love with one.
13EMERSON
Pinchingthe bridge of his nose, Emerson takes a steadying breath before counting to ten in his head. It’s almost as if something is in the air. Something like spirit week or the homecoming game or the dance. He’s pretty sure that building excitement is what’s gotten into the kids, who’ve gone from bad to worse as the day’s gone on, and he can only imagine what they’re going to be like on Friday.
Though he’s never personally experienced any of the school spirit fervor or pre-dance excitement for himself as a bullied outcast, he tries to be lenient with his kids, but there’s only so much whispering and inattentiveness he can handle. Even Arlo, who is usually one of his most respectful students, is caught texting during class. By the time third period ends, he’s given two detentions for disruptive behavior, something he’s never had to do.
When the lunch bell rings, Emerson’s stomach is tied in knots to the point he can’t even choke down his peanut butter sandwich. Not even the quiet reprieve from students helps Emerson’s nerves settle because it comes with a silence that would normally be filled with Jason’s rambling. He misses Jason more acutely than he thought possible.
Unable to eat and eager for a distraction, he decides to spend his lunch period grading, turning his attention to a pile of essays on his desk from his second period class. Halfway through the first one a knock at his door interrupts his focus.
“Come in,” Emerson yells, expecting a student and taken by surprise when the principal walks into his room instead.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Miller. I hope I’m not interrupting.”
“Not at all,” Emerson replies, pushing his chair away from his desk while trying not to panic. Mrs. Hernandez is a kind, fair principal but has never once come to Emerson’s classroom unannounced, and her arrival sets his nerves on edge
“I was going to send an email, but I thought perhaps in person might be better.”
“Okay,” Emerson says, twisting his ring. Her smile is friendly but her tone is anything but, and not even Emerson’s impeccable pattern recognition and decade of studying people is good enough for him to parse what she might say.
“There’s been a complaint filed about conduct.”
“What did I do?” Emerson balks, dread settling in his gut. He tries to think of anything he might have done wrong but can’t think of anything aside from the one time he was late because of the bus last month but that seems unlikely.
