Page 34 of Make the Play
“I swear I brushed it,” Emerson mumbles, patting it down.
“Your hair is too powerful, Pumpkin.”
Emerson splutters, opening and shutting his mouth several times.
“That another no?” Jason laughs, unsure why the sight of a faint blush on Emerson’s cheeks makes him want to come up with a million more nicknames. Much as he wants to settle on the right one, there’s something fun about his reactions to the ones Emerson dislikes. Especially now.
“I do not enjoy squash.”
“No squash, got it,” Jason says, trying and failing to keep a straight face.
“You’re laughing at me.”
“I mean, yes,” Jason admits, “but only because you’re kind of adorable.”
“What?”
“Adorable,” Jason repeats. “Surely people have told you that before?”
“I—no,” Emerson hisses, buckling his seatbelt while Jason merges back into the flow of traffic. “That’s just…no.”
“Huh, they should. Or maybe pretty. That’s true too.”
The response to this comment is complete and utter silence, which has Jason stealing a glance at Emerson to find that the faint pink on his cheeks has darkened into a deep red that stains his cheeks and now trails down the line of his neck.
“Guys must’ve called you pretty before,” Jason continues, unable to comprehend anything but this being the truth. Hell, Jason is straight, and he can see plain as day that Emerson is gorgeous. Everything from his pale eyelashes and high cheekbones to the fullness of his lips, it all screams beautiful. Surely people have told him before. “Ex-boyfriends at the very least?”
Emerson mumbles something unintelligible.
“What?”
“No,” Emerson practically shouts. He looks embarrassed, fidgeting with his ring before adding, “I don’t—that is,ugh.”
When he groans loudly, Jason can’t help but worry that he’s fucked up. He’s never seen a problem complimenting people regardless of gender. Anyone who says men can’t offer compliments is full of shit as far as Jason is concerned. Except maybe Emerson doesn’t like to be complimented? Maybe he’s like Theo and is shy about it.
“Would you rather I didn’t say that again?” Jason asks. “I mean you are pretty, but if you don’t like compliments, you can just tell me to shut the fuck up.”
Emerson merely groans again. “I thought you were straight.”
“I am but, I have eyes, Emerson.” He grins, hoping to ease whatever it is that’s got Emerson sitting stiff as a board. “You deserve to be complimented. Unless you don’t like it, and then I’ll shut my big mouth. I might not know when to be quiet, but I’m definitely good at doing what I’m told.”
There’s half a beat of silence before Emerson says, “That’s not what Mabel told me.”
“Emerson Miller, how dare you and Mabel conspire against me.”
“I wasn’t,” Emerson says seriously.
“I know,” Jason says, reaching over to give his knee a squeeze. “I’m just teasing. And also, Mabel is correct. I was a bit of a shit in school, but not like a mean shit just—you know I had two older brothers I was constantly compared to at school, and I was kind of desperate for people to like me? Playing football, making people laugh and joking around got me the attention I was craving. It was nice to be seen outside of my brothers or my last name. Sometimes I maybe took it a little too far, but I was an idiot teenager.”
“I think teenagers by nature are kind of idiots.”
“Somehow I don’t think you were. I bet you didn’t get in any trouble, did you?”
“You’d be surprised,” Emerson says. “Turns out asking clarifying questions in class can be seen as argumentative.”
“If you can’t handle kids asking questions, you probably shouldn’t be a teacher,” Jason gripes, slowing his truck to turn into the school parking lot.
“I wish more people agreed with you,” Emerson sighs. “You’d be surprised how many people, including teachers, thought I was being disrespectful or argumentative because I asked questions for things that, apparently, I should’ve known the answer to.”
