Page 58 of Make the Play
If Emerson isn’t careful, he’s going to do something very stupid and fall in love with Jason.
“Emmy?”
Emerson exhales a heavy breath, turning to face Jason and oh, what beautiful torture that is. Jason’s got that concerned look on his face, his attention honed in on Emerson like he cares because he does.
“Yeah?” Emerson whispers, unsure why Jason’s gaze feels heavier today. Maybe it’s his imagination. Maybe he’s already got one foot over the cliff, ready to fall whether he wants to or not and is seeing what he wants to see. He’s always had good pattern recognition, been good at noticing what other people didn’t. But at the same time, the disconnect between understanding the more nuanced meanings in what he notices is sometimes lost on him. This feels like one of those times.
It feels like he’s missing something, only Emerson has no idea what.
“You ready?”
Nodding, Emerson buckles his seatbelt. “Are you gonna dress up every day or—” but the rest of his sentence cuts off when Jason’s engine rumbles to life and the speakers blare. It’s not music that blasts through in surround sound but an audiobook. One Emerson knows by heart.
“Shit, sorry,” Jason mumbles, jabbing the radio off with an uncharacteristic amount of awkwardness. “You texted you’d be a few minutes, so I shut my engine off and forgot I was listening to that.”
“Jason.”
“It’s so loud too,” Jason continues, his cheeks absolutely beet red. It occurs to Emerson that aside from last weekend at the tailor, he’s never seen Jason blush, and certainly not like this. “I had it loud because the windows were down. I like some fresh air in the mornings.”
“Jason.”
Jason inhales, pressing on the gas pedal with a bit too much force, so Emerson is jerked backward, and both of their seat belts lock up. Jason curses under his breath, his cheeks red as a tomato now as he mumbles to himself and merges into the flow of traffic.
Utterly confused, Emerson also feels like he might cry because he very strongly suspects he knows why Jason might have been listening to this particular audiobook. He stares at the road, too emotional to look at Jason.
For a few long seconds, neither of them say a word, then Jason is rambling again.
“There was no student. I only let you think that because I was kind of embarrassed. I heard you that first day when I dropped your books off, telling your kids audiobooks were reading. Only no one had, well, no one had ever told me that. I’ve never been very good at reading. Theo had to tutor me all through high school so I could stay on the team. I’m not smart like Andrew, and I wasn’t an art prodigy like Charlie. I was decent enough at football to be on varsity though, at least in high school, but my grades were shitty. Especially in English. Mr. Caldwell fucking hated me, and he hated that Theo helped me pass, and he’s kind of the reason I just hated reading.”
Jason is barely taking in a breath, his eyes never leaving the road and his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles go white.
“I know it’s stupid because I’m a grown man, and a teacher myself now, but sometimes I still hear him in my head telling me, maybe I’m not that smart, you know? But then you were there, day one, telling your kids that all books counted as reading. I knew objectively, but it was amazing hearing you tell them what I wish I could’ve heard when I was their age.”
Jason’s hands shift on the steering wheel as he breathes, and Emerson wishes he were better with words, with feelings. He hates that anyone ever made Jason feel dumb, or that he might be embarrassed about listening to an audiobook for whatever reason. Most of the time, Emerson isn’t the biggest fan of people, but he really hates anyone who has ever hurt Jason.
“There’s also the way you talk about books, Emmy. I thought—” Jason pauses, filling his cheeks with air and holding it like a chipmunk before blowing it out. “I wanted to see if maybe I could experience a book the way you do. I know I’m not a reader, and I won’t ever be, but I thought maybe I could try this one and we could…we could talk about it.”
It is quite possibly the kindest thing anyone has ever done for Emerson. Not sending him to therapy or classes to learn to be flexible or like other people. Not hoping he might magically have a different brain. But rather, finding a way to bridge the gap to understand Emerson’s special interest.
“Jason,” Emerson whispers, unsure how his heart can feel so small yet so big.
“I wanted to share it with you because it makes you so happy.”
Right there. Explicit confirmation. Jason is listening to Lord of the Rings because of Emerson.ForEmerson.
“Jason,” he tries again.
“Fucking traffic, it’s only a Monday,” Jason mutters nervously. Emerson has never seen him nervous before.
“Jason.” He uses his teacher voice, something he’s never done on anyone above the age of eighteen, but it works because Jason turns to him and there, beneath the flushed cheeks and the labored breathing, is the hint of a smile from the Jason he knows and loves.
Loves.
He should probably feel more panic about that thought. He’s never loved anyone besides his mother and loving her sometimes feels like a dream. Rather than upend Emerson’s life, this realization makes all the loose puzzle pieces in his brain slot into place. He loves Jason.
“Sorry, Emmy,” Jason sighs, tapping his hands on the steering wheel. “It’s been a weird morning. Not because of you, but you know.”
Emerson does not know. He has no idea what Jason is talking about, but Jason’s smiling, and that makes everything feel right in the world, or at least in Emerson’s world.
