Page 79 of Make the Play
Though they’re not entirely concealed, between the small doorway and Jason’s overall girth, Emerson is entirely hidden in the corner. Something he clearly recognizes from the way his body sags on his exhale once they’re inside.
“You alright?” Jason asks, skimming his fingers over the back of Emerson’s neck.
Emerson nods. “It’s a lot but I’ll survive.”
“Maybe we can aim a little higher than surviving,” Jason says, wrapping his hand around the back of Emerson’s neck and giving it a gentle squeeze.
All the tension leaves Emerson’s body with a single touch, his shoulders slumping and his eyes falling shut. The sight of him so relaxed because of Jason is almost more than he can bear. Emerson is never fake, he doesn’t know how to be, but it’s clear that most people get a masked version of him. A version Emerson has crafted for control and safety. It’s still Emerson, but it’s the version he feels safe showing others.
Knowing that he gets the unmasked version, the one Emerson keeps hidden away, makes Jason want to kick his feet, laugh, cry and hold on to Emerson and never fucking let him go. It’s hard to believe that he’s lucky enough to see the stripped down version of Emerson, to be trusted with all his joy and fear because Emerson knows that Jason can handle it, can handle him. That trust is one of the greatest gifts Jason’s ever been given, and he sure as hell isn’t going to fumble it.
“Have I mentioned how much I like you?” Jason asks.
“Not in the last thirty-six minutes,” Emerson says seriously as if he’s actually been counting. Then his lips crack into an honest to god smile and he laughs, the sound music to Jason’s ears.
Emerson should always be happy, should always know how fucking special he is. If Jason thinks too hard about Emerson’s past, especially his family, it makes his mood turn bitter, which is the last thing he wants tonight. Instead he focuses on right now and the way happiness lights Emerson up. He’s always beautiful, but happiness looks damn good on him.
Clearly no one else appreciates Emerson the way he deserves, meaning it’s up to Jason to do it now, vocally and consistently, for as long as Emerson will let him.
“I’m neglecting my duties then,” Jason replies.
“Which duty is that exactly?” Emerson asks, those green eyes of his so wide and guileless. With his face angled towards Jason and his piercing eye contact, it’d be easy to mistake the question for flirting, but Jason knows it’s not. It’s a genuine question, because he doesn’t understand what they are. Truthfully, neither does Jason, but he wants to, as much for himself as for Emerson.
“I’m not sure exactly, but if you can be a little patient with me, maybe we can figure it out together.” His fingers curl around the back of Emerson’s neck. Jason wants to understand this all, to find the labels that Emerson craves, but he doesn’t have the answers yet. All he knows is that these feelings he’s got for Emerson are unlike anything he’s felt before, and maybe it’s because he’s a man or maybe it’s just because he’s Emerson.
“I—” Emerson starts, cut off by Mabel yelling from outside the photo booth, reminding them both exactly where they are right now.
“Smile boys.”
“What uh, what are we supposed to do?” Emerson asks.
“Smile,” Jason tells him, tugging Emerson as close as humanly possible, arm around his shoulders so he’s tucked completely into Jason’s side. He might not be able to do more than this, but having him pressed so close soothes something in Jason that itches to claim and discover. He might not have a label, but he sure as hell knows what he wants, and it’s Emerson.
The flash is bright, the timer on the screen counting down to signal the next photo. Jason moves quickly, positioning himself behind Emerson so his chin rests on his head, arms looped all the way around him in one of the awkward prom poses his kids do. It’s absolutely ridiculous really and makes Jason feel seventeen.
When the camera flashes, the countdown goes again.
“How many are there?” Emerson asks.
“Four,” Jason answers, because this is the same company the school rented from last year and he already knows the photo is going to print out on a shiny 4 x 6 when they’re done, with one photo in each corner. Photos of him and Emerson on their not-a-first-date. It makes Jason smile as he stares at Emerson, so caught up in appreciating his pretty face that he doesn’t pay attention to the timer or the third photo snapping.
“Oops,” Jason laughs, trying to imagine what the hell kind of expression he was making for that.
“Last one,” Mabel reminds them from outside.
Jason’s nerves rise as the time counts down. He wasn’t even this nervous before his first kiss when he was fifteen with Rebecca Andrews behind the bleachers. She’d tasted like bubblegum and smelled like sunshine and the kiss was horrible. Even still, it’d been special in the way first kisses could be and Jason wants that for Emerson, wants him to have something special to remember no matter what happens.
“Emmy.”
Emerson tips his head back to look up at Jason, a question in his eyes.
“Can I kiss you?”
“Oh,” Emerson’s mouth falls open, his tongue darting out to swipe over his bottom lip. “Yes.”
Without hesitation Jason’s hand settles on the side of Emerson’s face, marveling at how his palm covers so much of it. He doesn’t spend too long though, eager to get a taste of Emerson. Angling his head down he presses his lips to Emerson’s. His reaction is instantaneous, a shudder wracks his body while his fingers curl around Jason’s wrist.
Emerson’s lips are chapped, a hint of mint toothpaste in his breath as he exhales into Jason’s mouth. It’s surreal to be standing here, surrounded by lights and noises but only able to focus on the man in his arms. The kiss is chaste, and all too brief, but it rocks Jason to his core. A man, he is kissing a man and he likes it. He likes it a whole fucking lot.
