Marked Chapter 3 - Going Out of My Head

EPOV

When I finally woke up on Saturday, I could tell it was late in the day. Even though I had never been a morning person, I usually managed to be up by 9:00 or so, especially when I had company. But last night, I had lain in bed for hours, trying my best to forget Jasper’s eyes…that playful smirk that was so often on his lips…that enticing scent that seemed so familiar. I’d stared at the darkness of my ceiling for so long that the glowing green numbers of my alarm clock seemed to grow brighter and brighter, the light making it even harder to sleep as the time taunted me. Eventually, I’d tossed one of my throw pillows over the infernal clock, rolled over onto my stomach, and used my stubborn nature to will myself to sleep.

I pushed myself upright with a groan, yawning as I ran my fingers through my hair and took in the bright light shining around the edges of my thick curtains. I picked up the throw pillow, letting it fall to the floor as I glanced at the clock.

11:53…still technically morning, right?

I chuckled and then grimaced at the taste in my mouth, realizing too late that I hadn’t brushed my teeth last night.

Ugh, stale coffee and ice cream.

I ignored the pajamas on my floor and made my way to the bathroom in my boxers, where I grabbed my toothbrush and toothpaste from the shower and took them back over to the sink. As I brushed my teeth, I studied myself in the mirror, smirking at the nice red crease marking my face from the middle of my forehead all the way down to my right jaw. My hair was hopeless, but I didn’t particularly care. It wasn’t like I had anyone to impress anyway.

Back in my room, I got dressed in the pajama pants and t-shirt from last night on the off-chance that Kate was still downstairs. I doubted it, but she had been known to stay and play games on one of my computers while she waited for me if she didn’t have anywhere to be. When I passed by the open door to her room, I saw that her bed was made, and I gave a small sigh. It would’ve been nice to hang out with her a little while longer before I left for New York.

I took the stairs two at a time, yawning again as I tried to wake up. My stomach was growling after having nothing but ice cream since about this time the day before, so I walked into the kitchen to figure out what to do about breakfast. On the white board hanging on my refrigerator, a purple note was scrawled in Kate’s girly handwriting, complete with a drawing of flowers, a smiling sun, and…something…some sort of animal curled up under one of the flowers.

Breakfast casserole in the fridge

You’re out of eggs

Have a great trip! Miss you!

P.S. That’s you, Mr. Sloth.

Shut up. I know I can’t draw, but at least I didn’t sleep ‘til noon.

I laughed at the smiley face sticking out its tongue next to her last note and opened the refrigerator, pulling out the breakfast casserole. Even though I was the one who taught her how to make it, she’d still put a note on top that gave the instructions for warming it in the oven. I chuckled, shaking my head as I pulled the note off, scooped out a huge serving, dumped it on a plate, and popped it in the microwave instead.

While it warmed, I filled my tea kettle and put it on the stove, deciding a nice cup of Earl Grey was exactly what I needed to go with my newly improved mood thanks to Kate. When I got to the pantry, though, I frowned at the empty space where the canister should have been, and then I remembered having the last of it a few nights earlier. I’d meant to buy more, but I didn’t feel like a trip to the grocery store right before going out of town.

Slightly disappointed, I pulled out some of my spiced apple chai instead, deciding it would go well enough with the breakfast Kate had left for me. By the time the microwave beeped and the kettle was singing, my fleeting good mood had faded, leaving me brooding again.

Fuck this. What the hell is wrong with me?

I sat down at my bar – I never bothered with the dining room unless I had people over – and picked at the casserole. I was scowling at my food, stabbing it with my fork like it had personally offended me.

I sighed, letting the fork drop onto my plate with a clatter as I tangled the fingers of my right hand in my hair, resting my forehead against my palm while I sipped my tea. I was…morose. Dejected. Depressed. And it was all because of what I’d overheard on the phone last night.

Utterly ridiculous.

I knew myself well enough to recognize that this wasn’t just going to go away. I wasn’t going to be able to say, “I’m over it,” and have it be true. But I could make sure that I didn’t let it ruin my day – and my trip. So I forced Jasper to the back of my mind – he settled in there, already taking up residence like he belonged. The fucker.

I was gradually becoming angry – mostly with myself, but I was projecting it onto him, as if he had somehow wronged me before he even met me. Taking a deep breath, I ran my fingers through my hair to calm myself and resolved to just…let it go. For now, at least.

I picked up my fork again, concentrating on the way the food tasted – it really was delicious – and happier thoughts about how my best friend was amazing to have gotten up to cook my lazy ass breakfast this morning. I thought about the things I needed to do to be ready to leave, including picking a couple of my lenses up from the camera shop where they were being cleaned. I began making a mental list as I ate.

By the time I was heating my second serving of Kate’s casserole, I’d grabbed a pen and my grocery list notepad to make a list of the things I had to get done. It was really sad that my memory was so terrible that my list had to include things like, “Pack socks,” and “Remember boarding pass,” but such was life. I’d learned to cope with having a memory like a sieve.

So why the fuck was Jasper still there? Why could I remember - precisely - the blue shade of his eyes and the way they darkened to indigo toward the center and around the outer rim with that ring of sky blue in between? Why was the sound of his sigh so perfectly rendered in my memory?

Because you’re obsessive by nature, and Kate’s right – you’re fucking getting ahead of yourself.

It’s. Impossible. He’s impossible. Move on.

Grumbling, I realized that Jasper had again assaulted my mind, and I repelled him once more, tapping the pen against the pad as I ran my tongue ring along my lips and thought about what else I needed to pack. I started a list in the corner of the paper of things I needed to buy while I was out – all those random three-ounce bottles of shampoo sorts of things that fit the airline safety regulations. As I wrote, I ate the rest of my breakfast, getting up in the middle for a glass of orange juice I downed in one long pull.

Finally sated, I leaned back on my stool and stretched before I picked my dishes up and carried them to the sink. Kate had loaded the dishwasher with our dishes from last night and the ones she’d used this morning, so I added my few and started it. The humming of the machine magnified the racing thoughts in my brain, so I left the kitchen, pulling off the sheet of paper with my list on the way.

I was running late after my night of Jasper-induced restlessness, so I went back upstairs to take a shower so I’d make it to the camera shop before they closed at 2:00. I stripped as I made my way through my room, this time dropping my clothes in the hamper just inside my bathroom door. I turned on the shower and closed the glass door, stepping back over to the sink to look at myself in the mirror.

I twisted and turned, pinching at my sides to see if I had gained any weight. I’d been a little lazy the last few weeks, and I really needed to get back to the gym. I’d at least been running, but the heat of the summer was getting to me, and I was letting it keep me indoors too often. Still…

Not bad, I thought as I examined myself.

Of course looking at my body that way just reminded me of those damned blue eyes on me last night. Jasper lurked in the back of my mind, his face a specter that I stubbornly pushed away.

Impossible.

In the mirror, I saw that steam was gathering near the ceiling, so I walked to the shower, opening the glass door and stepping beneath the spray of the dual showerheads. When I’d added the master bath several years ago, I’d spared no expense, and I knew it was a little bit of overkill – but, damn it, if I was going to do something, I was going to do it right. No half-assing anything for me. Besides, this shower and my oversized garden tub were two of my favorite places to be.

Preferably with someone.

I grinned at the thought before I sighed and began to wash, lathering up my body and then rinsing it. It had been about half a year since Alistair and I broke up – well, finally broke up for good, anyway - and I wasn’t the type for one-night stands, so it had been quite awhile since there was someone else in here with me. I’d gone out with different guys here and there, but nothing that went beyond a few dates, a few kisses, and maybe a grope or two.

Bleh, whatever. You’re fine.

And truly, I was. I was a pretty independent guy. I wanted a family someday – that was really the source of conflict in my relationship with Alistair – but I was also alright alone. I wasn’t going to settle for something that was just okay when I knew there was something amazing out there. I wanted what my cousin Emmett had with Rosalie – they were everything. Best friends. Lovers. Playmates. Companions. Husband and wife.

Okay, so the husband and wife thing wasn’t for me.

Now, husband and husband…

I smirked and laughed at myself, shaking my head as I reached for my shampoo bottle. I massaged my scalp, giving a small, content sigh before I tilted my head back to rinse the shampoo away.

I was a stubborn, picky bastard, and I knew it would likely take me a long time to find him – the one who could be everything for me and would let me be everything for him. But I knew I would find him, and that thought made me smile quietly to myself as I looked in the fog-free mirror on the shower wall to shave.

You are a hopeless romantic, you know that? Too much Gene Kelly and Fred Astaire for you.

I just shrugged. It was true, but my Mr. Perfect would like that about me, too.

You’re fucking making me sick now.

I really was getting ridiculous, so I laughed and stepped out of the shower, drying off quickly as I remembered the million things I needed to do. I scrubbed the towel through my hair and then wrapped it around my waist, going to the vanity to brush my hair and put on deodorant. I dressed like I almost always did – in jeans and, this time, a brown t-shirt – and grabbed socks on my way out of my bedroom.

Within a few minutes, I was in my car and heading down the street – after going back inside to grab the list I’d forgotten, of course. I stopped at the camera shop first to pick up my lenses and spent a few minutes talking to the owner. The shop was one of those small, familiar places that I loved, and the owner was an ancient little man who kept a display of antique cameras that he would ramble about for hours to anyone who would listen. It was normally a favorite pastime of mine, but I was in a hurry and had to cut him short, promising that I’d be back in a couple of weeks to hear about the Kilburn gun camera he’d recently acquired. He patted my back, telling me I was a good boy, and I was genuinely smiling when I walked out of the shop with my plastic bag in hand.

On my way to the store for my travel-sized everything, I got caught near Fenway Park and spent the next forty-five minutes in stop-and-go traffic. At first, I sang along with the radio, rolling down my windows and listening to the sounds of the crowd drifting down from the stadium, but after about fifteen minutes – when I’d moved all of a quarter of a mile – I was fuming.

I rolled my windows up to block out the exhaust from the cars around me, and I kept gripping the steering wheel tightly before I released it again, checking my rear-view mirror obsessively and looking out my windows as if an opening would suddenly appear. I kept up a mental rant, grumbling to myself when someone didn’t move fast enough. Finally, cars began to drift forward…all except the one in front of me, which just sat there.

Move, goddamn it!

I frowned, leaning forward as though getting a better look at the driver would do anything. I caught sight of a woman with her cell phone in her hands, her head lowered to look at it.

Fucking texting? Are you kidding me?

I honked the horn, and she jumped, her eyes snapping to mine through her mirror. Her eyes narrowed before she deliberately looked back down at the phone in her hand, her thumbs flying over the keys again.

I will fucking ram you.

I let my foot off the brake, inching forward toward her rear bumper. I didn’t really intend to hit her – at least I don’t think I did. I loved my car, and Rosalie would have my ass if I let anything happen to it anyway. But apparently my face told a different story because when she glanced up again just a second later, her eyes widened, and she tossed the phone into the seat beside her, speeding forward.

That’s what I motherfucking thought.

Stupidly, I felt strangely vindicated as I was finally able to pass her, the traffic dissipating like some mystical fog with no source.

I managed to run the rest of my errands with no further annoyances, but I was still just…in a funk when I returned home. I set the sacks on the bench while I took off my shoes and hung up my keys. I left most of them there, picking up the one from the camera shop as I walked through my sitting room into the kitchen.

I was still full from my massive breakfast, so I just sat at the bar and opened the sack, taking out the two lenses to look them over. They were in perfect shape, of course, and I carried them into my office to put them in my camera bag. While I was there, I went ahead and packed up my laptop, making sure to grab the power cord so I wouldn’t have to buy another new one. I carried the laptop case and camera bag back out into the sitting room, putting them in front of the sofa that was never used.

With a sigh, I gave in and decided to finally start the laundry I’d been putting off. I went upstairs and stripped my bed, adding the sheets to the already overflowing hamper before I carried it all the way downstairs to the basement.

The old storage cellar had been converted by my parents into a basement with roughed-in rooms, but I had still yet to finish most of them. The laundry room was near the base of the stairs, and my darkroom was in the far corner, but even with my wine racks covering one of the walls, there was plenty of open space for…whatever I decided I needed. The air was always cool and slightly dank, and for some reason, I loved it down there.

Walking into the laundry room, I let the hamper drop to the floor, the top layer spilling onto the tile. I dumped the rest out and sorted them – kind of – before starting a load of towels and heading back up the stairs.

Until the laundry was done, I couldn’t really pack, so I was left with some time on my hands – and judging from the amount of clothing on the floor by the washer, it would be quite a bit of time. I felt tense and just slightly off, not quite myself. I frowned, running my fingers through my hair, before my feet carried me through the kitchen and into the sitting room, straight to my piano bench.

I sat slowly and then lifted the cover, running my fingers along the keys. The piano was an antique, and I relished the soft, smooth feel of the ivory beneath my fingertips. The keys had been played by many hands over the years, including my mother’s, leaving them with subtle indentions and a glossy finish caused by frequent use.

Automatically, I played a few scales, warming up and checking to see that the piano was still in tune. Before my last scale was fully finished, I moved fluidly into Gershwin’s “Someone to Watch Over Me.” It took me a moment to realize what I was even playing, and then Ella’s voice was singing in my ear, bringing a melancholy smile to my face.

I was singing along with the phantom voice in my mind, and as I heard the words, “Looking everywhere, haven’t found him yet…” filling the otherwise empty room, I realized he had done it again. Jasper, the man I’d spent all of three or four hours with at most, was still there – his name, his voice, his face, those unbelievable eyes had been inscribed in my mind with indelible ink.

I let my voice trail off, though I kept playing, and as I played, I thought. I kept forcing him out of my mind, refusing to think of him because he was – quite literally – an impossibility. But maybe by trying so hard not to think of him, I was actually ensuring that he stayed on my mind. I sighed, my fingers speeding up as I moved into the bridge.

As stupid as it sounds, I made an agreement with myself. If Jasper entered my mind, I would think of him. It was that simple. But I wouldn’t dwell on him, and I wouldn’t get angry or frustrated when he did crop up – as he no doubt would.

That ridiculous – and obvious – compromise allowed something in me to relax, and I began to lose myself in my music. Yes, I did think of Jasper throughout the afternoon, and it was most often in ways that were decidedly unhealthy for me, but I was able to let go. I was interrupted several times by the buzzing of the dryer, and I stopped from time to time to fold clothes and pack what I needed, but I returned often to my piano. It had always been something of a sanctuary to me, and I found I really appreciated the comfort it afforded that afternoon.

By the time the last load of laundry was packed or put away and my bed had been made again, I was starving. I rummaged through the refrigerator, but there wasn’t a lot there, as I’d been cleaning it out as much as I could since I would be gone for about a week. I didn’t feel like cooking, so I opened the junk drawer and shuffled papers, looking for the menu for my favorite Indian restaurant. I found it buried beneath several others and had to tug hard to pull it free – I guess it had gotten stuck in the back corner.

Pulling my cell phone from my pocket, I sat at the bar, smoothing the menu where my rescue efforts had crumpled it. The number for delivery was actually programmed into my phone, so I scrolled through until I found it, deciding on my meal while the phone rang. I placed my order, was told it would be the usual forty-five minutes or so before the food arrived, and closed my phone again, dropping it into the pocket of my jeans.

I grabbed a beer and opened it, tossing the cap into the trash on my way to the den. There, I flopped down on the couch, putting my feet on the coffee table and slumping against the back as I drank my beer. I turned on the TV and flipped through a hundred or so channels before deciding there was nothing on, so I turned it off again and tossed the remote control back onto the table.

I was bored and tired and hungry.

I didn’t feel like watching a movie or doing some work or playing a computer game. I also didn’t feel like sitting and staring ahead – that sounded like the perfect invitation for Mr. I’m-Fucking-Impossible-But-I’m-Going-To-Taunt-You-Anyway.

After a minute, I smiled when the solution hit me, and I pulled my phone back out of my pocket, holding down the 3 to call Emmett. If nothing else, he’d make me laugh about something.

“What the fuck do you want?” Emmett’s voice demanded, but I could hear the smile in it.

“Hey, dickhead. I figured it’d been too long since I let you give me shit, so I did you a favor and called.” I grinned as I took a long drink of my beer, listening as he launched into an expletive-filled description of what an asshole I was.

It’s good to be missed.

When he finally wound down, I talked to him about the trip I wanted to plan, and we settled on Labor Day weekend for my visit. I would be going back again in Thanksgiving for a longer trip, so I was just going to fly out on Saturday and come back late Monday night.

I could tell Emmett was excited, and I was, too – it had been too long since I’d gone to see them – but I wondered if I should be a little worried when he said, “Oh yeah! I have a surprise for you!”

I chuckled. “Is it more tongue rings?”

Last Christmas, Emmett had gotten me an assortment of novelty tongue rings with messages like “Cum Here” and “I Swallow.” Rosalie apparently hadn’t known he was getting them and had smacked the back of his head, but I thought they were fucking hilarious.

He snickered. “Why? You already wear those out? Slut.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, even though my situation was far from funny. “Shit, man. I wish. There’s been no activity on that front since Alistair.”

“Damn, dude. Seriously? That fucking sucks, man…did you at least get to use them?”

“Nah, things were already…ehh…well, you saw at Christmas. Just not good. And then he left right afterward to go back to London for a couple of months, remember?” I shrugged even though Emmett couldn’t see me and then balanced the phone on my shoulder as I took another sip of my beer.

“Yeah, man, I saw…” He paused, probably at a loss as to what to say. “Hey, maybe while you’re in New York, you should go to one of those clubs.”

“’Those clubs’? What the fuck are you talking about, man?”

“You know…”

When I didn’t say anything, he finally continued, “You know…those clubs. The ones where you can at least find some guy to suck your dick. Shit!”

I laughed, the phone slipping off my shaking shoulder and falling into my lap. I picked it up again and said, “Fuck, maybe you’re right. Not really my style, but maybe I’ll think about it.”

We talked for a few minutes more before there was a knock at the door. He heard it and said, “I know you gotta go. Have a good trip, man – we’ll see you in a few weeks, right?”

I said definitely, and we exchanged a few more insults as I walked into the front hallway. I hung up the phone as I was opening the door, a smile on my face. I was still chuckling when I signed the credit card receipt and took the bag of food. I locked the door and dropped the food off in the den before I went into the kitchen to get a fork and another beer.

I didn’t bother with a plate, eating my chicken vindaloo and sang paneer straight from their containers. I unwrapped the cheese naan from its foil and gave a small moan of appreciation when I had the first bite.

The sound was odd in the silence of the room, especially coupled with what Emmett had just been suggesting, so I snickered as I reached for the stereo remote, turning it on to give me some background noise. One of my jazz CDs was playing, and I sat back, relaxing as I polished off my beer and the rest of the vegetable samosa. I just rested on the couch for several minutes after I was finished, listening to the music in the dim light of the single lamp I’d turned on.

I considered calling Kate but decided not to when I gave a huge yawn that made my eyes water. Maybe I’ll just go to bed instead. It had been a long day after a largely sleepless night, and I had to be up early for my flight, so I spent a few minutes cleaning up my mess, washing the fork by hand so no dishes would be waiting for me. I checked my list again, making sure all my bags were packed and stacked together in the sitting room. I double-checked that I had my cell phone charger and batteries for the camera and things like that as well as one of my composition books.

Satisfied, I turned off the last of the lights and trudged up the stairs to get ready for bed. On autopilot, I stripped out of my clothes, brushed my teeth, and settled beneath the covers. I felt much more comfortable without any clothes to twist and bunch up, and I was absolutely positive I would fall asleep in no time.

Not so.

I closed my eyes, only to find his blue eyes gazing up at me through his lashes with that damn smirk on his lips. I shifted, turning my head on the pillow as if that would actually change the view I saw behind my eyelids, but he was there on my other side as well. I felt my teeth bite into my bottom lip as my hips moved, and I realized that – whether it was caused purely by Jasper or not – I was fucking horny as hell.

I sighed, rubbing my forehead before I let my hands drop back to the mattress. After the hours I spent tossing and turning the night before, I wasn’t about to do that shit again.

With barely a thought at all, I flung back the covers and got out of bed again, walking downstairs just as I was. I grabbed my laptop bag and returned to my room, unzipping the case and pulling my computer out. I plugged in the power cord – I hated the way the screen darkened when it just ran on the battery – and tossed the case to the floor before I piled pillows around and balanced my laptop on them.

Maybe it was sad how well I knew how to set everything up for the best possible…experience – and how quickly I could get it done - but fuck it. I was a man with needs, and for quite awhile now, I’d been the only one around to meet them. Even when Alistair and I were together, we’d sometimes gone for weeks without seeing each other.

I put in my password to log on to the computer, and while it was booting up, I reached into the drawer of my nightstand, pulling out a bottle of lube and putting it beside my box of tissues. If I’m going to do this shit, I might as well do it right.

Within minutes, I’d pulled up my favorite porn site and was scrolling through videos. I could feel myself begin to lengthen, growing thicker as what I saw piqued my interest. The fingers of my left hand were trailing along my cock, squeezing and teasing while I looked for one I really wanted to watch.

The bareback videos always caught my eye. It was something I’d never tried, and I was definitely intrigued by how it must feel. The first few I clicked on had guys I didn’t like for various reasons – too chunky, terrible mustache, weird looking dick. Yes, it was shallow. It was fucking porn. What other reason did I have to watch it?

The fourth was promising – both guys were in good shape, and one of them had a fucking hot tattoo centered between his shoulder blades. My hand sped when I saw the way they were manhandling each other, kissing and shoving and pulling - but the inked guy’s partner had blond hair nearly to his chin. It was lank and didn’t look nearly as good as Jasper’s, but it was close enough to remind me of him…and the last thing I needed to do was jack off to someone who looked like him. It was one thing to not get upset if he crossed my mind. It was another thing entirely to fantasize about him and torture myself even more.

After checking a couple more videos, I finally found one that had me sitting up a little straighter, watching as two dark-haired men kissed. One had nipple piercings and had his hand in the other’s hair, pulling him closer while he stroked his cock. As I watched, he yanked his partner’s head back and pushed him to his knees. My left hand moved to my balls while my right finally wrapped around my stiff cock, giving it a few strokes before I reached over, pouring a bit of lube in my hand.

When I took myself in hand again, my eyes rolled back in my head, and I inhaled sharply, sliding down on the bed until I was lying partially on my side. As I heard moans coming from my laptop speakers, I opened my eyes again, focusing on the men on my screen. One licked the other, his tongue moving all the way from the tip of his lover’s head to beneath his balls and back again before taking him as far as he could in his mouth. He wasn’t all that impressive, really, but that didn’t matter because with another tug of the hair, the pierced guy pulled him up to his feet, and in a matter of seconds, they were on the bed.

The pierced guy lay on his back, his legs sprawled out in front of him. The other straddled his hips, facing away from him, and reached down, holding his partner’s dick as he slowly lowered himself onto it. I groaned when he did, my fist tightening around my needy cock as I imagined it buried deep within my lover. I matched my strokes to the movements I was watching, twisting my wrist and running my thumb over my head when I felt the need.

My own movements were rapidly bringing me to the edge, and my eyes kept drifting closed only to snap open again, seeking out the visual stimulation of the two men fucking on my screen. Their moans and sighs were in my ears, mixing with my own noises of desire, and I began to see flashes in my mind when my eyes fluttered closed – blue eyes…pouty lips…messy blond hair. I forced my eyes open again, moaning loudly when the man on top wrapped his hand around his cock. My strokes mirrored his, and I felt the tension beginning in my hips and thighs, spreading and concentrating in my balls as they tightened. I reached for a tissue and brought it to the head of my dick just in time to catch the messy fruits of my labor.

I relaxed back on the bed, working to control my breathing. My arm was bent across my eyes, my other hand still holding my cock. I spent a few moments just lying there, enjoying the bliss that comes with such a release, until the noise still coming from my laptop began to annoy me.

Reaching under my bed, I pulled a baby wipe from the container I kept there and cleaned myself up, wiping away both lube and semen before I threw the wipe and tissue into my small trashcan. I shifted onto my side, closing the website and then shutting down the computer. I clicked off my lamp and rolled back onto my side, closing my laptop but leaving it on the bed – it was a king size, and lord knows I had enough room. There wasn’t any thought in my brain.

I just passed the fuck out.

-----------

Wind ruffled my hair as I peered out over the railing, my eyes scanning the Lower New York Harbor skyline. It was Wednesday morning around 10:00 – relatively early for me – and I was on a ferry heading for the Statue of Liberty, surrounded by people from all walks of life.

I reclined on the little blue bench, enjoying one of my favorite activities – people watching. I’d been to New York City many times over the years, but I still picked out one or two touristy things to do every time I visited because those types of places were the best for attracting large groups of diverse people.

My trip so far had gone well. I’d checked into my hotel Sunday afternoon when I arrived and taken a nap, then gone out that evening, walking through Little Italy and picking a restaurant at random. As I’d sat back and enjoyed my seafood linguine, I listened to a family nearby singing “Happy Birthday” in Italian to a little boy dressed in a black suit with his hair slicked back. He looked to be no more than five or six, and he was bursting with excitement, bouncing in his seat until his father finally handed him a present to open. I smiled, watching them openly as I ate my food and sipped my wine. Before I left, I placed an order for cannoli to be sent to their table, paid my bill, and walked out with a smile still on my face.

Every meal since then, I’d chosen a different type of food, working my way through the world map one restaurant at a time. It was a tradition when I was in New York – one that usually made Kate groan and ask if we could just eat a hamburger by about day three.

My days had been spent out in the field, scouring the city for interesting graffiti. There was no shortage, of course, and I’d found some unique, colorful samples in subway stations, under overpasses, and even on the wall of one of the public libraries. I was quite happy with my new additions, and I’d even met a few people who allowed me to snap quick pictures of their body art. There was nothing I felt I had to have for my book – nothing that would have made me set up a full session – but there were absolutely some that would end up on some of my collage pages.

I could really see it starting to come together in my mind, and every afternoon, I couldn’t wait to get back to my hotel to work on layouts and color schemes before I went out for dinner. After dinner, I usually ended up back at my computer, playing with fonts and thinking – again – that I really should’ve enrolled in more graphic design classes, although I was grateful for the ones I had taken.

Little things kept reminding me of Jasper – that man’s hair, this woman’s eyes, that man’s jawline. I even caught a hint of his scent when I was walking past an open air cafe one afternoon. It was frustrating how…familiar…he felt after having spent only a few hours together. It was part of what I hadn’t even tried to explain to Kate – that pull to him. That feeling of something more.

Nighttime was the worst. During the day, I kept myself busy. My mind was either absorbed in the work I loved, or I was playing tourist. I’d spent a few hours at MoMA, wandering through the exhibits as I listened to the soft voice through the headphones tell me about Cezanne’s Self Portrait in a Straw Hat and Rodin’s The Three Shades. It was a vastly different experience than the tiny gallery I visited on Monday night. The gallery was one of my favorites – an undiscovered gem that showcased photographs from local artists. I visited it every trip, and the talent never failed to impress me. I always left feeling inspired, ready to take my camera out to record my unique view of the world.

But at night…all of those distractions were gone. I worked well into each night, hoping that sheer exhaustion would drive Jasper’s memory away, but he refused to be evicted. I didn’t dwell on him, but I didn’t try to force him away. When he was there, he just…was.

Much as I hated to admit it, I found myself masturbating more often. At first, I tried to convince myself it wasn’t because of Jasper, but that didn’t last long – because, really, what else had changed?

Nothing.

My life was exactly the same as it had been for the past five months…except that now I’d met a man I’d talked to for hours without a pause in conversation – except when I lost my train of thought and stared at his tempting body with those fucking amazing tattoos and nipple rings.

Yeah, there was only one reason I was beating my poor dick into submission…and I didn’t even know that reason’s last name.

Mr. Impossible.

I grimaced, bringing myself back to the present as I heard the sound of children giggling. I ran my fingers through my hair, looking around. Just ahead of me to my right was a group of about fifteen blue-haired women, all wearing matching red hats and purple shirts. They were talking and cackling, putting me in mind of a flock of squawking seagulls.

I chuckled when I glanced toward the sound of the giggling and saw another group of people in matching shirts – this time children who couldn’t be more than five or six. Their shirts were neon green, and they were fucking everywhere. They were climbing over the benches and ducking behind them, always just out of reach of the women in matching green shirts that were trying to wrangle them. Watching the women made me smile. They were constantly in motion, eyes scanning the group as their mouths moved in silence, counting. They were vigilant and protective, despite their harried expressions.

They’ve got a long fucking day ahead of them.

Grinning, I let my eyes continue to roam, taking in passengers of what seemed to be nearly every ethnic group. Always curious, I took in the different ways of dressing, the various mannerisms, the way some individuals held themselves apart from others.

There were a few men dressed in suits spread around the ferry. I took a few minutes to admire each one, drawn to them as always. You’d think that my attraction toward well-dressed men would prompt me to dress up a bit, too, but I couldn’t be bothered most of the time.

One of them in particular was very attractive. He was on his cell phone, giving me an opportunity to watch the way his lips moved and admire his jaw line and the movement of his Adam’s apple. I leaned back, spreading my arms along the back of the bench as I played with my tongue ring, the clink as the metal hit my teeth lost in the wind from the ferry. His hair was short and styled a bit more than I usually liked, but as he talked, he turned partially away from me, leaning his elbows against the railing in a way that put his rather nice ass on display. I caught him peeking back at me over his shoulder, arching an eyebrow as he smiled. He kept his eyes on me while he was talking, and I felt the smirk on my lips.

Not fucking bad at all.

But, really, I wasn’t interested. He was nice to look at, but I didn’t feel anything when I looked at him, and – fucking idiot that I am sometimes – I didn’t want to settle for a pretty face.

The fact that I didn’t even give him a chance to show me whether or not he was more didn’t escape my notice.

Oh, well. Not happening.

I didn’t want him to be left with the same false hope I’d had with Jasper, so I glanced away from him, making sure my eyes didn’t return to the nice ass in the black dress pants. Instead, I turned to face the other way, watching the passengers on that side much as I had the others.

It was during this study that my gaze finally fell upon them. At first, I wasn’t even sure they were together. They were just two men, sitting on a bench across the way from me. One was wearing a blue henley with his jeans while the other had on a brown button down and khakis. They were carrying on a heated discussion, the one in the blue shirt gesturing with his hands while the other listened with a frown.

I’m not sure what about them caught my eye, but I watched them as their argument – I guess – continued. Finally, the one wearing brown said something that stopped the first in his tracks. He paused, staring at his companion with his mouth open before he suddenly threw back his head and laughed. He shook his head, chuckling, and I felt a smile tugging at my lips when the wind shifted, carrying his voice to me.

“I’m sorry, baby…I’m being an ass,” he said before he wrapped his arms around the man who was obviously his lover.

“I’m used to it,” was the teasing answer as the two shared a sweet kiss.

I felt a pang of longing as I watched hands move to cheeks and smiles spread on their lips. I caught sight of rings on their fingers and tilted my head a bit as I studied them. Now that I was paying attention, I saw the way they sat so close together. The one in brown had his right leg sprawled out, resting familiarly over the other’s. When they parted, their foreheads pressed together as they murmured something – I imagined “I love you”s – and I finally had to look away when the one in blue began running his thumbs along his lover’s cheekbones.

That. That was what I’d wanted with Alistair.

What kind of person doesn’t fucking want that?

And it wasn’t that we hadn’t had those arguments or those sweet moments – we had. Any outsider looking at us would have thought that we were a couple – and we were. But we were a couple doomed from the beginning. There was a fundamental flaw in our foundation that had our relationship crumbling from the first time we kissed.

For a long time, I was okay with the time we spent apart. It was a necessary part of Alistair’s job, and I respected that he wanted to do his job right. It made sense to my perfectionist nature. But the closer we got and the longer we were together, the more I found myself hating those mornings when I woke up alone.

I took a few trips to London, but it seemed to stress Alistair out when I was there for an extended period of time. I never worried that he was cheating – that just wasn’t his nature – but it became painfully obvious that he valued our alone time far more than I did.

In the end, we drifted apart. Though it hurt me, I stopped relying on him. I stopped counting the days until his next visit. I still enjoyed talking to him, and he could always make me laugh. When he was in town, we still had fucking amazing nights together, but that was it. It was impossible for me to understand. I knew Alistair loved me. But it was in his peculiar way. He was perfectly happy to go on as we were – seeing each other for a few weeks, then spending a few weeks apart, having the majority of our conversations through instant messengers and webcams.

I wasn’t.

As I watched the couple on the bench kiss again before they parted and settled against each other to look out over the harbor as they talked, I remembered that last conversation we’d had as a couple. We were friends even now – we still talked, and he still visited when he was in town, but after that final exchange, we were no longer together. I heard his voice in my memory, that fucking accent of his still ridiculously sexy, even as he said the words that broke my heart.

“I don’t understand, Alistair. Why are you so dead set on living in London? You’re here just as often. Why won’t you move in and travel from here?”

We were sitting up in bed, what should have been our post-coital bliss interrupted by what I had thought would be a welcome proposition. To say I’d been dismayed with his answer was an understatement.

He raked his fingers through his hair, exasperation clear in his lilting voice. “Edward…this is nothing new. You know I’m happy with the way things are. You’re right – I am here just as often. So why do you need me to move in?”

“I need you to move in because…” I frowned, trailing off as I thought. “Because, damn it, Alistair…I need something more…permanent. Something real.”

“This is real, love.”

His thumb tracing my bottom lip did nothing to remove my frown as I shook my head. “No. I need to know that…fuck. I don’t know. I guess I need to know there’s something tying you here. You could fly home tomorrow, and I could never see you again unless you decided to come back. That’s fucked up.”

“It is not ‘fucked up’.” His anger made his accent more pronounced. He reassured me that he loved me, that he wanted me, that he wanted to be with me…but he wasn’t willing to make any sort of step beyond what we already had. This was it for him. And it wasn’t nearly enough for me.

The argument had gone nowhere. We talked in circles for hours before what should have been clear from the beginning became obvious.

We just didn’t fit.

I sighed, blinking as I shook my head and the ferry came back into focus. Ever since that conversation, I’d been thinking about the things I wanted in life – the things on which I wasn’t willing to compromise. The list wasn’t really very long. It was, in all honesty, pretty fucking basic.

But it was what I needed.

I wanted a man I could count on, someone I knew would always be there for me – and would let me be there for him. I wanted someone I could laugh with and someone who made me think. I wanted someone who turned me on and who was excited by me, too. I wanted someone who would argue with me and keep me in check when my stubborn nature got out of hand. In short, I wanted a man I could share everything with – a home, a family, dreams, sorrow, laughter, whatever life threw at us.

I needed a partner, not just a friend or a boyfriend or a lover.

Of course, the question of how to find that man remained. I had no fucking clue. But I figured it had to start somewhere, so I’d been dating, getting to know the men I went out with – and then ending things each time I realized that he wasn’t the one for me. Now that I knew what I wanted and that I wasn’t willing to settle, there was just no point in continuing beyond that. It sometimes made for a lonely existence, but in a lot of ways, I was more content than I had been in a long time. I felt better just knowing myself.

Thankfully, my self-reflective musings were brought to an abrupt end when the ferry docked at Liberty Island. I stood with the rest of the passengers, falling into line to file out onto land. I spent the rest of the day enjoying the sights and sounds around me. I continued my people watching but was spared more introspection, just letting everything go as I enjoyed the remaining hours of my trip.

By the time I made it back to the hotel, I was tired, worn out from the heat of the July day and climbing the stairs to the statue’s crown. I ordered room service, grinning as I remembered how often Kate begged me to do that rather than going out for whatever ethnic food I felt like. On impulse, I called her, and we talked late into the night. She found Fight Club playing on one of the movie channels, and we watched it together, commenting on Brad Pitt and Edward Norton and the beautiful mindfuck that was that movie.

When we hung up, I fell asleep right away, waking up the next morning just in time to throw my things back into my suitcase, take a quick look around, and rush to the airport to make my flight back home.

As soon as I made it home, I unloaded my bags from the car but left them in the front hallway. I hung up my keys and kicked off my shoes and then wandered into the den, stretching out on the couch. The trip had worn me out, and all I wanted to do was take a little nap to recover.

When I woke up, the room was bathed in darkness, and my neck was stiff from lying in the same position for who knows how long. I pulled my phone from my pocket and hit a button, squinting at the brightness of the backlight as I checked the time.

10:51

With a groan, I pushed myself up and yawned, blinking as I reached over to turn on a lamp.

Fucking great.

I’d slept nearly ten hours and was now wide awake and starving. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d had my days and nights confused. I really didn’t have any responsibilities other than the ones I made for myself, so my schedule was often in flux.

I scratched my head and stood up, stretching with my arms spread wide overhead. I let them fall to my side with a grunt and then headed down the hallway, stumbling over the suitcase still sitting there.

Motherfucker.

I gave the luggage a wide berth and made it to the kitchen without injury. I knew I didn’t have a lot of food to choose from, so I turned on the oven to preheat and checked to make sure I still had a pizza in the freezer. Since I was awake, I decided to go ahead and unpack. I needed to clean up a bit anyway, since Garrett was coming over on Saturday for his session – and it looked like I’d spend part of Friday in bed asleep.

I pulled my suitcase down to the basement and unzipped it, dumping the clothes on the floor. Astonishingly, my laundry situation looked almost exactly the same as it had the day before the trip.

How the fuck did I manage that?

Chuckling, I shook my head and began to sort through the mess, putting the first load in the washer. Back upstairs, I put the pizza in the oven and took my camera to the office to start the download before going back into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee.

I spent the night snacking on pizza, choosing pictures for my book, and working on the monster pile of laundry in the basement. I was completely absorbed in my work, and time passed quickly.

When the sun rose Friday morning, I found my way to my bed and fell back into a deep sleep, realizing as I was drifting off that I was no longer noticing each time I thought of Jasper…because I seemed to be thinking of him nearly constantly. I grimaced and sighed, flipping over onto my stomach and burying my face in my pillow.

My last thought before I passed out was simply…What the fuck?

Friday night, I was wide awake again, and by the time Garrett arrived on Saturday afternoon, I was operating largely on caffeine after having been up since the afternoon before. I invited him in and took him to the kitchen, where I offered him a beer while I showed him the portfolio showcasing some of my work. I grabbed a beer for myself, taking small sips here and there to help him relax.

He was wearing a long-sleeved white henley over his faded blue jeans, but he’d brought three other shirts with him as well. I repressed my snicker and told him that was great – he’d definitely come prepared. Once he was clear on how the session would go, we moved out to my back patio to take pictures in the afternoon sunlight. He looked good there – something about the red brick with ivy and roses crawling up the trellis brought out the best in his complexion, and I found myself smirking as I thought of how Kate would react to these pictures.

Just like the last time I’d worked with him, he required a lot of direction, but he always responded immediately and did exactly as I asked. What I hadn’t realized, though, was how…cool he was. He was pretty fucking funny, and we joked through most of the session. It had been different when there were other models around and we were actually “at work.” Here, we could relax, and I was really happy to see that he seemed to be a good guy - maybe worthy of Kate.

In no time, he was shirtless and showing off my favorite tattoo of his – the text running along his ribs. I tilted my head to study it as he stood leaning forward against the wooden post of the trellis, his left arm flexing to support his weight. The script was old, reminiscent of the text tattoo that circled my calf, and I furrowed my brow as I read the words - alea iacta est.

Latin?

“So what does it mean?” I asked, the camera in both my hands at my chest.

“My tattoo?”

“No shit.”

I smirked, and he laughed, saying, “Smart ass.” His fingers trailed up his ribs as if he could actually trace the words there. “It means, ‘The die has been cast.’”

I raised an eyebrow, prompting him to continue.

“Caesar said it when he defied the Roman Senate and invaded northern Italy in 49 BC.” He chuckled at the expression on my face, shrugging his shoulders. “I like history. It’s important to remember, too – really just means that you’ve reached a point of no return, you know?” He continued on, muttering about the government paying attention, but my mind was already elsewhere.

Point of no return…yeah, I know something about that.

Images of Jasper’s fingers in his hair flirted with the edge of my memory, and I couldn’t even really remember what it had been like when my mind had been wholly my own, back before an impossible blond man invaded my brain. I smirked again, but all I said was, “That’s pretty cool…now let’s get some pictures of it?”

He laughed and nodded, returning to his previous pose as I took a few more pictures. He put on a dark steel gray button down shirt as we moved back inside, and it was all I could do not to laugh out loud as I led him up the stairs.

“Your shirt will be perfect in here, I think…” I opened the door to Kate’s room.

“Awesome, so where do you want me?”

I bit the inside of my cheek to control my smile. “On the bed, I think? Here…” I stepped forward and pulled back the covers, revealing the white sheets beneath.

Brown and bluish gray throw pillows were scattered everywhere, and Garrett nodded as he stepped forward and stretched out on the bed between them. “Like this?”

I lifted the camera, looking through the viewfinder. “Perfect…get comfortable. Maybe just stretch out and rumple the covers a bit so it looks like you’ve been sleeping there?”

Kate is going to fucking kill me. Or kiss me.

I watched as Garrett wallowed around on Kate’s bed, internally laughing as I imagined her expression when I showed her the pictures and she realized where, exactly, he had been. I took pictures of him with the shirt unbuttoned and then off, and we were soon done.

I led him back downstairs and into the kitchen again, where he’d left a couple of his shirts. I was flipping through the images on the screen with what I’m sure was a ridiculous grin on my face when he cleared his throat. I glanced up to find him putting his shirt back on, slowly buttoning it from the bottom.

“So umm…does that girl not help you anymore?”

Ooh…now that’s interesting.

“Actually, I was helping her,” I said, not giving anything away.

He glanced down, his eyes studying his fingers as they continued working the buttons one by one. “Oh. So you work for her?”

I could tell he was digging, trying to figure out how Kate and I knew each other. I grinned, setting the camera on the bar and leaning back against it with my arms crossed over my chest. “Nah, I just help her out when she needs it.” There was near silence in my kitchen, the only sound that of fabric rustling as Garrett continued with the world’s slowest shirt-buttoning. I couldn’t resist. “That was her bed you were playing around in actually.”

His head popped up, his eyes widening and then narrowing as he frowned. He cleared his throat again. “Oh. Sorry, man. I didn’t realize you two were dating.”

I laughed, deciding to finally let him off the hook. “No, we’re not dating. Far from it. Kate’s my best friend.”

His eyes were incredulous – and, really, they should’ve been. I mean, he’d seen how we got along at the last shoot, and I’d just told him he was in her bed. At my house.

I smirked. “Trust me. Kate’s not my type.”

He rolled his eyes, looking down as his fingers suddenly remembered how to operate buttons and made short work of the task. He didn’t say anything, but his body language was screaming, Yeah, whatever.

“Believe me…I’d be interested in you way before her.”

His eyes widened in surprise.

“Yeah, man, I’m gay,” I said. “But don’t worry…you’re not my type either.” I gave him a cheeky wink and then laughed when he blushed a bit and looked at a loss.

Alright, so he is pretty fucking cute when he blushes. Kate has good taste.

Chuckling, I went to the refrigerator and pulled out a couple more beers. I opened them and then held one out to Garrett. “I was hoping I could give you Kate’s number, to be honest. I think you might be her type.”

His blush deepened as he reached out and took the beer. He took a long pull from it and then told me that sounded like the best fucking idea he’d heard in a long time. We talked awhile longer, and I was relieved to see that he seemed completely at ease with me – the gay best friend was part of the package with Kate, and it always hurt me when I saw her get hurt because some asshole she was interested in couldn’t handle my sexuality. It hadn’t happened often, but I hated being a source of distress for her.

When he left –with all his extra shirts over his arm – he was grinning as he told me he’d be calling Kate that night. I smiled and waved to him from the doorway, and just as soon as I’d locked it, I had my phone out to call her.

I pressed her speed dial and then held the phone between my shoulder and ear as I picked up my camera and went to my office. I connected the camera and turned it on, noting that I had fifty-seven pictures of Garrett from our session.

Perfect.

Kate answered just as the download started, and I sat back in my office chair with a shit-eating grin on my face. “Katie-bug!”

“Uh oh. What the hell did you do?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I rolled my eyes at myself as I heard the nearly sing-song quality to my voice. Way to play it cool.

“Edward…” Her voice was a low threat that made me grin.

“I gave Garrett your number. And might have told him he’s your type.” I swung back and forth in my office chair, my eyes flickering to my monitor to check the progress of the download.

Kate shrieked. I couldn’t tell what sort of shriek it was – the kissing or killing kind – so I waited, the grin still on my face.

There was silence.

“Well? What the fuck did he say?”

“I dunno…I guess you can ask him when he calls you tonight.”

She squealed again and then launched into a series of questions. They were laced with explicit threats about what she was going to do to me when she saw me again, but I was confident that her obvious excitement would help spare me. Mostly, anyway.

We talked about the session, and I told her I’d call her as soon as the pictures were ready. I did not tell her where I’d taken them – I figured the stunt with the number was enough for one night. Besides…I wanted to see her reaction, not just hear her shrieking like a goddamn banshee through the phone.

When we hung up, my eyes were bleary and watering from lack of sleep, so I rounded up a quick dinner of leftovers from the Chinese food I’d ordered the night before, put my dishes in the dishwasher, and went upstairs to sleep. The sun was just setting, and I hoped that meant that I’d be awake during the day again.

I woke about half an hour before dawn the next morning. I made a pot of coffee and then took my mug upstairs, going out on my bedroom balcony to watch the sunrise in my plaid pants. I stood at the railing, sipping my coffee and moving my toes, feeling the unique texture of painted concrete beneath my bare feet. I ran my fingers through my hair, yawning, as I smiled sleepily at the brilliant oranges and yellows spreading across the indigo sky.

Just like the photo gallery in New York, the image was inspiring, and I decided to spend the day out in the city, exploring and taking pictures. I determined that I wasn’t going to work on my project while I was out – unless something really perfect caught my eye, of course – and I was just going to enjoy being behind the lens of my camera.

The day was exhilarating and rejuvenating, and I came home ready to work on my book again. I spent hours in the darkroom, surrounded by the aroma of chemicals as I sang quietly to myself. I emerged from time to time to look at pictures on my computer or play with the layout, and my sleep schedule ended up all fucked again.

The rest of the week was spent in much the same way, out scouring the city and some of the surrounding areas for interesting images before I came home and worked on my book until the wee hours of the morning. I printed all of the pictures of Garrett and took them over to Kate’s, where she nearly beat the hell out of me for using her bed. She was blushing, though, her neck turning red as her eyes widened, and I’m pretty sure it was an image she didn’t mind having at all. I laughed when she asked if she could have a couple and handed her the envelope of doubles I’d brought with me, making her blush again.

All-in-all, I was pretty happy.

I kept myself busy so that I didn’t have as much time to think about Jasper, but still, he was there. He lurked in the back of my mind, and I idly wondered if I’d hear from him again. I didn’t know what I wanted the answer to be.

On Thursday night, a bunch of us got together for dinner. I loved being with my friends, and I knew I’d been neglecting them since Alistair and I broke up. I just hadn’t felt like seeing how ridiculously happy the couples were. Embry and Seth had just bought their first house together, while Collin and Brady were celebrating their first anniversary. They’d been best friends for the longest time before they finally realized – or admitted, I guess – what the rest of us already knew. They obviously belonged together.

But despite my tendency toward jealousy and depression, I had a fantastic time and realized just how stupid I’d been to shut them out. I’d always been a social creature, and I’d really missed the banter and camaraderie between all of us. By the end of the evening, we’d made plans to go out again the next week, and I left feeling lighter, somehow, than I had in awhile.

When I got home from dinner Thursday night, I was still keyed up, wide awake again. So I sat down in my office, creating some mockups for possible cover designs for my picture book. I got lost in the world of fonts and colors and contrasts, and the next time I looked at my clock, it was after 5:00 in the morning.

Damn it.

I briefly considered staying up all day to try to straighten out my schedule again, but I just didn’t have it in me. I stood up, arching my back and twisting from side to side as I tried to work out the kinks.

Climbing the stairs, I was idly thinking about the night I met Jasper, realizing that the next day would be exactly two weeks. His tattoo should be nearly healed by now. I didn’t really expect to hear from him again. Strangely, it seemed like it had been years since I met him…yet only minutes.

As I walked into my bedroom, I reached over my shoulder, grabbing the back of my shirt and pulling it over my head. I dropped it on the floor, too tired to bother with the hamper. I unbuttoned my jeans, leaving them where I stood as well. I pulled my socks off with my feet, and they made the final articles of clothing in the trail from my doorway before I tumbled into bed.

Too bad there’s nobody to follow that trail of goddamn bread crumbs to my bed. I smirked as I fell asleep with that final thought.

It seemed like no time had passed before I heard some infernal noise that would not shut the fuck up. I was on my stomach, so I pushed myself up on my elbows, my eyes still closed as I turned my head back and forth, trying to find the source of the sound.

Fuck.

I realized it was my phone and nearly flopped back down on the bed to pass out again, but the thought that it might be something important finally made me turn over. I leaned over as far as I could, but I couldn’t reach the jeans in the middle of my floor. Muttering curses under my breath, I stood up, fucking morning wood bouncing as I walked over to grab my phone from the pocket. I glanced at the caller ID, but it wasn’t a number I had programmed, and I didn’t recognize it either.

I frowned, furrowing my brow as I tried to decide whether or not to answer. It was too complex a question for my sleep-addled brain, so I finally just shook my head and raised the phone to my ear, hitting the button to answer along the way.

My voice was husky with sleep when I said, “Hello?”

“Edward? Hey, it’s Jasper.”

“Jasper?” I said stupidly, my brain still not quite working.

Thankfully, he didn’t hear me, as his exasperated voice spilled right over mine. “Hey, can you hold on a sec?”

I didn’t answer, standing there scratching the back of my head while I listened to Jasper’s rough voice curse angrily. The sound was muffled, static occasionally coming through the speaker as I caught bits and pieces of what was being said.

“…lunchtime. I’m on…fucking wait…”

I smiled at the way Jasper’s voice – even distorted as it was – sounded as he cursed. Abruptly, I was aware that I was standing nude in the middle of my room with a stupid grin on my face while my dick waved hello to the world. I crawled back in bed, slipping beneath the covers and propping myself halfway up against the headboard, one hand tucked behind my head. I could vaguely hear another voice, but I couldn’t make out what it was saying before Jasper’s voice came through again.

“Mike! I am on. The. Fucking…” I heard shifting and more static. “…not getting?”

I grinned lazily. I definitely like that mouth of his.

I groaned softly as that thought took me immediately to images of his lips and what I wanted that mouth to do. I blinked, shaking my head and reminding myself that he was impossible.

The static ended as I heard Jasper’s voice coming through more clearly. “…the fuck out; I'll check in when I'm done with lunch.” There was a pause, followed by the sound of a door closing. “Edward, you still there? Sorry about that...”

I was waking up, and I was torn between being excited and annoyed that he called. The excitement just annoyed me more, but somehow that idiotic grin was still on my face when I said, “Yeah, I’m here. What’s up?”

“Umm…yeah…was just calling to see if you were still interested...?” My eyes widened in surprise as my mouth opened to speak. Before I could say anything, though, Jasper finished his question. “In taking those pictures, I mean....for your book?”

My mouth snapped closed as I gave a quiet sigh – one I seriously hoped was inaudible over the phone. “Oh...” I worked to keep the disappointment out of my voice. This is nothing you didn’t know already – this is Mr. Impossible. “Yeah, that'd be great. You're all healed up then?” I moved on to the professional aspects of this conversation since, really, that’s all it ever would be.

"Umm, yeah..." He sounded uncomfortable, a thought that made me frown. "Yeah, it's healed up fine."

I barely heard what he said, as I was busy berating myself. Why the fuck would I say yes to this? An afternoon of torture?

"So..."

A beat too late, I realized that it had been my turn to speak. Jasper’s subtle reminder spurred me into action, and I quickly said, “Oh, good. Umm...well, did you want to maybe get together this weekend?” There was definitely hesitation in my voice, and I bit my bottom lip, nearly holding my breath as I waited for his answer. I rolled my eyes.

“Yeah…this weekend’s fine. When?”

A smile flashed across my face at this small ‘yes’ from him. But as I thought about when it should be, I remembered my plans for Saturday and grimaced. We were having a surprise housewarming party for Embry and Seth – Kate was planning it, which meant I was way more involved than I wanted to be. Not that I wasn’t happy to see them happy, I was just…well, fucking jealous. I could admit it. “I have this housewarming thing on Saturday for some friends of mine. So maybe Sunday evening? Around five or so?”

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I frowned.

Five o’clock? What the fuck?

I always liked to have a session as early in the day as possible because I usually liked to spend the rest of the evening working on the pictures while the event was still fresh in my mind. With a rueful smile, I ran my fingers through my hair, realizing that I was not-so-subtly checking to see if Jasper had a date that night.

Fucking pathetic.

I thought I heard him sigh. “I can't...I'm going out for dinner.” That pertinacious bit of hope I could never seem to rid myself of when it came to Jasper took yet another beating…and then flared feebly again when he said, “Earlier in the afternoon, maybe?”

“Oh. Yeah, okay. Two then? It shouldn't take more than a couple of hours.”

“Yeah, two’s fine.”

I waited for him to say something else – what, I don’t know – but when he didn’t speak, I finally said, “Okay then. I guess I'll see you Sunday. Oh - did you need directions or anything?”

I was confused when he snorted, but all he said was, “No, I think I can find it...” I realized I was nodding and rolled my eyes at myself. “If nothing else...I can mapquest you.”

I had no idea why, but I smiled at that, an image of Jasper’s fingers on a keyboard while he typed in my address springing to mind. Why the hell would that make me happy?

Because it means he’s thinking about you. Oh, and you’re a fucking idiot.

Again, I realized we’d been sitting in silence when I should’ve been saying something. Instead, Jasper said, “So...yeah...” and cleared his throat. “Sunday...two o'clock...I'll be there.”

I shifted on the bed, turning onto my side and propping my head in my palm. “Alright. I'll see you then. Just umm...call me if you need anything?” I winced, cursing myself for how that sounded. “I mean, you know, if you need to reschedule or whatever...”

Goddamn tool.

“Yeah…sure…”

I knew our conversation was coming to an end, and while that made me a little sad, to be perfectly honest, it was also a damn good thing because, fucking hell, there had rarely been a more awkward conversation in my life. I shifted onto my back again, wondering what to say.

“Oh!” I almost sighed when he spoke. “Umm...anything in particular I need to...you know…wear...”

Is nothing an option?

I was smirking when I heard Jasper continue. “Never exactly done...this before.”

“Oh…” I sat there for a moment, trying to decide if I’d imagined that pause…and what it might mean if I hadn’t. “Umm...no, not really. Just whatever you're comfortable in. I want you to look like...you, really.” And that’s the most honest thing you’ve said all day.

“Oh...okay...sure, no problem...” He chuckled. “That should be easy enough.”

I already sounded like a big enough idiot, so I decided to end the conversation before I kept going until I said something I regretted. “Alright, well, I guess I'll see you then...” I paused for a second as I realized he really didn’t have to call me – and I was glad he had. “Oh, and hey...thanks.”

“You're welcome...see you then...”

I heard the line go dead and sighed. “See you,” I said stupidly into the silence before I pulled the phone away from my ear, cradling it in my lap while I stared straight ahead.

God, that was brutal.

And it really had been…so why did I feel a smile tugging at my lips? Fucking masochist.

My tongue ring was immediately between my lips as I idly played with the metal ball, lost in thoughts of Jasper. Mechanically, I pressed 2, not needing to see the phone to dial the number. I lifted it to my ear again, listening as it rang.

“Hey! What’s up?”

“Kate? He called.”

---

Chapter 2 ~ Chapter 4