Page 43 of Make the Play
“Why?”
Breathing deeply through his nose, Emerson weighs the options. He could try and force more words out, but they feel heavy in a way he’s never been able to explain. Or, he could text. Jason didn’t seem to mind talking to him like that before. Decision made, he sets his drinks on the kitchen island so he can grab his phone, typing out a succinct message.
Emerson
About the Dr. Pepper. I don’t want your brother to be mad. You don’t need to keep anything special around for just me.
The lines on Jason’s forehead creep together in a way that’s unnatural on his otherwise jovial face. No one should ever make Jason King frown.
“Emmy.”
Emerson inhales sharply, causing Jason to curse again.
“Sorry, fuck. You said no, and I just?—”
Taking the one and only opportunity he might ever get, Emerson’s fingers fly across his phone, grammar be damned.
Emerson
please
say it again
The lines on Jason’s forehead deepen.
“You don’t hate it?” he asks.
He’s used to Jason’s voice: loud, excited, booming, confident. He’s not sure he’s ever heard it sound so uncertain. He wants to remedy that. Quickly.
Emerson
It was nice. More than nice. I…I loved it.
The slow spread of joy across Jason’s face is a wonder. So much of Emerson’s life has been wasted trying to understand the people around him, unsure how they felt about a given social situation or even about Emerson. He doesn’t have to do that with Jason. His face is so easy to read, his friendship so freely given.
Jason King is a gift, and Emerson has no idea what he did to deserve him.
“Yeah?” Emerson nods, and that clear happiness on Jason’s face makes Emerson’s insides squirm. He’s not sure anyone has ever looked at him like this, and Emerson is entirely unprepared for the feelings it invokes.
Lowering his eyes to his phone, Jason types out a message that does nothing to curb the storm of emotions warring inside of Emerson.
Jason
I really want to hug you
would that be ok?
As a kid, Emerson used to imagine himself in one of his books. He’d be brave like the protagonist or popular. Sometimes he pretended he had enough coordination to dance or that everyone wanted to be his friend. After his mom died, they changed. He imagined he was a beloved hero or part of a daring trio. Occasionally, he imagined being swept off his feet by Prince Charming, one who didn’t wear too much cologne or like loud parties. Mostly though, he dreamed about belonging, about what it might be like to be the leading kind of character, the kind that other people wanted around.
For reasons he doesn’t begin to understand, Jason makes him feel like that.
“Emmy?” Jason whispers.
The words are as fragile as the broken snow globe from his childhood, his head a mess of water and glitter that’s going to stick to everything when it breaks. Jason’s got him shaken up and turned around, Emerson hardly knows which way is up. What he does know is that Jason is right here, his friendship the kind of safety net Emerson has never had before making what he says next just that little bit easier.
“Yes.”
There’s no hesitation from Jason as he closes the distance between them before Emerson is being hugged, really hugged, for the first time since his mom never came home. The embrace is barely there, almost as if Jason is afraid to hold on too tightly, and that makes something inside of him fracture. All the closed off needs and wants splinter into an infinite number of new cracks.
