Out of Character (True Colors 2)

“You kept my Neptune drawing?”

“Well, duh. It’s good. It might be a collector’s item someday.”

“Thanks.” The amount of faith he had in my talent was almost enough to make me think something could actually come of my doodling. I pulled my mini sketchbook out of my coat pocket. “You…uh…want to see what I was working on while I waited for you?”

“Of course. And give me your coat.” Jasper threw both our coats on his desk chair while I found the right page. Returning to my side, he peered over my shoulder. “It’s the Frog Wizard! In a tux with tails?”

“I was thinking about the costume ball,” I admitted. I’d drawn the wizard with the mask on and amphibian features. No way was I ready for Jasper to see how I drew him. “I figured he’d wear one of those old-fashioned tuxedos, like on the Titanic or something. Definitely the tails and a bow tie.”

“Hmm. Maybe Kellan can rig me a tie for the occasion. Can I show him the drawing? Please?”

“Yeah.” So far, Jasper’s crowd seemed far cooler than mine. Kellan was kind of a big teddy bear of a guy, Jasmine was sweet, and Conrad and Alden were nice if a little protective of Jasper. And the two professors were like the sort of grandpas everyone would love to have—lots of food, funny stories, and genuine support. They made me miss my dad, or rather the dad I wished he’d been more often.

“You’re so good at this.” For a second, Jasper rested his hand on my back, head falling to my shoulder, but then he seemed to remember himself and straightened. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” I said softly.

“Anyway, it’s late.” His voice was too bright and too fast. “And I’m going to take the chair bed thing because of your leg—”

“Which is fine. Not hurting,” I lied.

“I’m also shorter than you and it’s kind of narrow. Like a kindergarten nap mat, really.”

“Then—”

“I insist.” He steered me toward the bed, then dropped his hands all fast again.

“Jasper?” I turned to face him. This weirdness had to end.

“Yeah?”

“Do you want the chair bed?”

“Yeah, of course. I’ve slept there before.” More of that fake cheer, and I wasn’t ruling out the possibility of needing to shake him.

“Sure. But do you want that? Because I’d be cool with sharing.” My gaze was stapled to his mouth and cool was a vast, vast understatement.

“Oh. Uh. I’m trying really hard here to be a good guy.” Swallowing audibly, he glanced away.

“You are a good guy.” I rested my hands lightly on his shoulders. “And I get that you’re working overtime on the whole consent-is-sexy thing and to make sure I don’t feel pressured just because I need a place to crash, but…” Licking my lips, I let my voice trail off as my courage started to ebb.

“But?” The hopeful curiosity in his voice functioned like a shot of bravery to my soul, made me pull him closer.

“But.” Dipping my head, I brushed my lips over his. “You promised me more kissing practice. And I waited twenty-two years to kiss you the first time. I’d rather not miss another opportunity.”

“You make it hard to do the right thing,” he whispered, face still close enough for me to feel his breath.

“Maybe stop trying. Maybe do what you want instead of what you think you should.”

“I’m more concerned about you and what you truly want. And need. But this…” He ghosted a kiss across my mouth. “This is what you want?”

Everything. I want everything. Unable to speak, I could only nod. And then he was leaning in again, mouth finding mine, and it was sweet and soft and perfect. His hesitance was still there, and in a way it contributed to the perfection. No one had ever treated me so carefully, so gently, and the pressure in my chest grew with every pass of his lips. I seriously didn’t know how to process this level of tenderness, but all I knew was that I wanted more. All of it. I wanted everything.

This time when he pulled back, questions still in his eyes, I chased after him, claiming another kiss before I found my words. “You are a good guy, you know? The best guy. And even good guys get to have fun sometimes. If you want that, I mean…” I let my voice trail off, suddenly unsure again.

“I want you.” He squeezed my upper arms. “No question there. But—”

“No but.” I was practically levitating at his admission, mood soaring. He wanted me. Everything else could figure itself out. “I want you too. And you make me want to be a better person. More like you. And that has to count for something, right?”

“It does.” He gave me another soft kiss, this one lingering, evolving into a deeper exploration as our tongues tangled. We shuffled closer to the bed, and my sketchbook hit the floor. I’d never wanted anything this badly in my whole life. Not making varsity soccer, not winning my athletic scholarship, nothing compared to how much I wanted him. He swept his hands up and down my back, and I stretched into the contact, preening like a cat and no longer caring about playing it cool.