Page 75 of Make the Play
“Uh-huh,” Jason says, rubbing his cheek into the top of Emerson’s head. “Your hair is soft.”
“You like my hair,” Emerson says, managing to make it sound like both a statement and a question.
“I like every single thing about you, Emerson Miller.”
“You don’t know everything about me.”
“Yet.” Jason pulls back, smoothing down the hair he just mussed up. Theyetis very important. Emerson doesn’t know it, but Jason is going to date the fuck out of this perfect man. “Can I put on your boutonniere, Emmy?”
“Oh,” Emerson says, looking down at his other hand like maybe he forgot what he was holding. He lifts the small sunflower to Jason who takes it, careful not to crush the petals. He unhooks the back, careful not to poke Emerson as he slips it into the suit material. “There.”
“You sound very confident for someone who only just realized he wasn’t straight. Wait, when did you realize?”
“Uh, at the tailor’s last weekend, when you know—” Jason breaks off, waving one of his hands around in what he hopes is a meaningful gesture. Judging by Emerson’s slightly confused expression, it’s not.
“I have no idea.”
“WhenCharlieflirtedwithyou,” Jason gets out in a rush.
The reaction is delayed, the slow dawning of realization spreading across Emerson’s face. “You were jealous?”
It’s easy to see he was in hindsight, which is strange because Jason has never been jealous. People used to flirt with his girlfriends and he’d shrug it off. Even when he got cheated on, the most he felt was a sting of rejection that had passed when he realized he didn’t actually even like her enough to be mad beyond the betrayal of it.
Like everything else involving Emerson, things feel different. The idea of anyone else being with him sours Jason’s insides. He wants Emerson to behis. Which is likely a very queer thing to think about a man. It definitely puts Jason somewhere on the bisexual scale, but he’s more concerned with getting the guy first and worrying about the label later.
Operation: get-a-boyfriend is in full swing.
First things first—homecoming dance. It might not be a date, but Jason’s going to be damn sure Emerson has a good time. Second, he's going to take Emerson on the world’s best first date. Jason’s got it all planned out, spent all week researching other date options in case Emerson said yes, and he knows exactly where he wants to take him. Dating might not be exactly like football, but Jason understands how to be patient, how to wait for the right time to take your shot. He’s got the plan, now all he needs to do is find a way to make the play.
* * *
“I have a lot of questions.”
Jason can’t hide his smile even if he wanted to, which he doesn’t. “I expected that.”
“But we don’t have time for them all,” Emerson sighs, staring out the window as Jason turns into the school parking lot, surprised at how full it already is. Then again, he and Emerson took a little longer at Emerson’s place than planned with Jason’s impromptu confession.
“How about you write them down,” Jason suggests. “You can make a list.”
“A list,” Emerson says, sitting up a little straighter.
“Yeah, make a list of all your questions, or things you wanna talk about, and we can do that after the dance. Or on our date.” Jason’s smile widens until his cheeks hurt. He can’t believe he gets to go on a date with Emerson. How did he get so lucky?
Emerson wastes no time in pulling out his phone, the familiar scrunch of his face as he types away at it making Jason’s chest clench. It’s strange to think about how different it is to his past experiences. It feels like he should be focusing more on the whole,Emerson is a man, thing but in his heart there’s just an Emerson-shaped space. His gender doesn’t really matter. Does that make Jason pansexual? Or is that still bi? He feels like he should just know, but he doesn’t.
All he knows for certain is that he’s never felt like this about anyone. None of his exes made his insides feel like they were full of butterflies, which makes him feel a little guilty. He hopes he wasn’t a shitty boyfriend. He’s pretty sure he wasn’t. There just had never been a spark, even with the ones he had fun with. Hell, sitting this close to Emerson has Jason’s entire body keyed up, the two feet between them might as well be the Grand Canyon. If Emerson wasn’t so fixated on his list, Jason would reach out to take his hand, wanting to touch him so badly. He resists by keeping both hands on the steering wheel as he backs his truck into a spot in the back of the parking lot, hoping to give them a few minutes to talk in the car.
No sooner has he shut his engine off then he realizes this is not going to work. At least a dozen of his players are all horsing around in the middle of the parking lot, their attention clearly on Jason as they take turns shoving each other and walking towards them. If Jason had been paying attention to his surroundings and not daydreaming about Emerson’s delicate fingers, he might’ve noticed where he was parking, but instead he’s put them right in the center of future chaos.
“Ah, shit,” Jason grumbles.
“What?” Emerson asks, attention shifting from his phone to Jason. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing I can’t handle,” Jason assures him, nodding out the front window.
Emerson’s body goes stiff. “Do you want me to stay in the truck? Or uh, I don’t know, hide?”
“Why would you hide?” Jason frowns.
