Page 7 of Make the Play
“You need help?” Jason asks, abandoning his snack mission to turn and face the stranger.
With a closed campus there aren’t usually people Jason doesn’t know around, but on staff development days it’s not uncommon for some of the staff to have friends or family helping them set up. Though over the years, Jason’s gotten to know most of them as well and this guy is entirely unfamiliar. He also looks too old to be a student but definitely too young to be the new teacher.
“I’m looking for a classroom,” the guy answers, eyes never leaving the paper in his hands. His lips move as he silently reads whatever is on it.
“Luckily for you, you found an entire school.” Jason crosses his arms and grins.
That grin falls when the guy doesn’t laugh at his joke. He does however, look up from his paper, and piercing green eyes meet Jason’s. The eye contact lasts only a second before the guy averts his gaze, giving Jason a moment to really take him in. He’s shorter than Jason, though as the tallest person on campus at six-foot-five, that’s not an uncommon occurrence. The man is not much shy of six feet but his build is lithe and compact, making him seem smaller than he actually is. Or at least smaller than Jason, but then again, who isn’t?
Unlike Jason, who is dressed down in a pair of running shorts and a faded Santa Leon t-shirt, this guy has on a dark green, short-sleeved button-up without a single wrinkle and a pair of equally unwrinkled dark wash jeans. Even his sneakers are pristine, not a scuff in sight. Equally noticeable is the way the deep green of his shirt makes the light green of his eyes stand out. Then again, everything about him stands out, from his fair complexion to the vivid red of his hair. His eyelashes even match, letting Jason know it’s definitely his natural color, though in the bright sunlight they look almost translucent and far lighter than the hair on his head.
Unable to stop staring, the only thought swirling through Jason’s brain is that this guy looks like someone off one of the book covers of those fantasy romance novels Andrew likes. He blames this thought on his curiosity at the barbecue with his brothers last week when he’d caught sight of Andrew’s Kindle on the patio and snuck a peek to see what his big brother was reading. Jason had only gotten through a few pages, just enough to realize whatever the book contained was something called bonds and a fated mate, before Andrew snatched it away, red-faced and embarrassed.
Looking at this guy now, Jason can’t deny there’s something ethereal about his appearance. It’s not just because of his vivid hair and fair complexion, but also the shape of his face with the delicate curve of his jawline and full lips. He’s pretty, Jason realizes. Incredibly so. Jason has no qualms about noticing or appreciating this. He has eyes after all, nothing wrong with using them, even if in the past he usually only paid attention to guys when Theo was around. He is the world’s best wingman and knows his best friend’s preferences, making it easy to spot someone Theo might like. Of course now that Theo’s marrying his brother, it’s been ages since Jason bothered paying attention to men. Then again, anyone with two eyes would look at this guy in front of him and notice how attractive he is.
“Do you know where it is?” the pretty guy asks.
“Huh?” Jason blinks, realizing he missed something with his wandering appreciation.
“I said—” he starts, breaking off with a heavy sigh. “Never mind, I’ll find it myself.”
“Sorry, I was…distracted,” Jason says, frowning when he realizes the guy is walking away. Unable to resist someone in need of help and still curious about who he is, Jason takes several long strides to catch up to him.
“You’re following me,” he says without turning to look at him.
“I’m helping you,” Jason counters.
“By walking next to me and distracting me?” He looks at Jason, eyes darting between the paper map in his hand and his feet.
“No, by showing you to, uh—” but Jason’s words get stuck in his throat when the guy stops and turns to face Jason with a defiant set of his jaw. He isn’t smiling, which is unusual because people always smile at Jason. “You know, uh, wherever you’re going.”
“What are you, the welcoming committee?”
“Not officially,” Jason grins, undeterred by lack of a smile on the other’s face. “Although I did bring donuts into the office today, and you’re welcome to have one. Usually they’re for staff, but I’d be happy to go into the front office and get you one if you wanted. Are you more of a maple glaze or sprinkle man?”
“I don’t like donuts,” he replies, walking away.
“Everyone likes donuts.”
“Obviously everyone does not, in fact, like donuts.” The guy continues walking but turns to look at Jason like he has two heads. “Statistically speaking, only an average of three percent of Americans dislike donuts. So while most everyone likes them, it’s noteveryone.”
Jason’s smile returns, inordinately charmed by his prickliness. “Is this your way of telling me you’re special?”
The guy hums something noncommittal, turning to walk away again.
Undeterred by his refusal of donuts and propensity not to smile, Jason continues to follow him. “What do you like?”
“What?”
“If you don’t like donuts, what do you like?”
The question seems to take the man completely off guard and he tilts his head, studying Jason while his pace slows. He’s not running away, at least not completely. “Who are you?”
“Jason.” He holds out a hand. “And you are?”
“Late,” he answers, shaking his head.
“Late for what? There’s nothing going on today but?—”
