Marked Chapter 4 - I Want You to Want Me

JPOV

Turning off my bike, I pulled my helmet off and ran my fingers through my hair with a sigh. It would figure there'd be an accident when I'm already running late. Hopefully Em hasn't been waiting too long.

I climbed off quickly, tucking the helmet under my arm before pulling my gloves off and slipping them into my pockets. Then I walked a few steps to the front of the bakery-cafe that my little sister had fallen in love with when she moved to Boston. Looking through the window, I easily spotted Emily as she was talking to the waitress. The bell above the door jingled as I stepped through it, catching the attention of the staff as well as Emily.

Grinning, I walked up to her and placed a soft kiss on the crown of her head as I gave her a one-armed hug around her shoulder. "Hey there, Lee, hope I haven't kept you waitin' too long."

She grinned, her eyes twinkling as she spoke, "Well, I was beginning to wonder if you'd stood me up for some cute guy..." She chuckled, winking at me.

I rolled my eyes, putting my helmet on the empty seat between us so I could unzip my leather jacket. I draped it over the back of the empty chair before taking a seat opposite Emily. "As if that'd happen, Lee-Lee."

She smirked and wiggled her eyebrows. "You never know, Spurs. Stranger things have happened. But I'm glad you're here."

I chuckled softly at the use of our childhood nicknames for each other. When Emily was born, I'd been nine and, for whatever reason, was always calling her Lee or Lee-Lee instead of her full name. When she'd started to speak, she had been unable to say my name, always stumbling over it and calling me “Sper,” which eventually morphed into “Spurs” and stuck.

The waitress - Shelly, one of our usual servers - cleared her throat in a gentle reminder that she was there, and I looked at her, smiling apologetically. She smiled back, her pen poised over her pad. "So, what can I get you today? Sweet tea for you, as always?"

I grinned at her, nodding. "Please. And I'll have the smoked turkey sandwich as well. Thank you."

Emily ordered the grilled portabella melt, having already gotten her sweet tea. Once Shelly left to place our orders, Emily began to practically bounce in her seat with excitement. Shelly came back with my sweet tea, and I grinned at Em, knowing she was bursting at the seams to tell me something. I took a sip before finally relenting, "Alright, sis, out with it. What's the big news?"

She leaned forward, smiling widely, her eyes dancing as she asked if I remembered the guy she was telling me about over the phone a couple of weeks ago. When I nodded, she told me that he'd finally asked her out and that they'd be going on their first date on Monday night. She again told me all about how James looked - tall, blue eyes, long blond hair he had pulled back in a ponytail - and how he was so funny and smart. Then she grinned and winked as she said, "I just know you're going to love him! But you'd better not try to steal him away from me, big brother.”

We both knew she was kidding. Even if the guy had been interested in me, I could never do that to Emily, no matter who it was. From the moment she was born, she and I had been close. I remembered holding her for the first time - Dad hovering over me with his hands near her head, mumbling about watching out for her soft spot while Mama smiled at us from the hospital bed. I had known, right away, that our relationship was special when she wrapped her tiny hand around my little finger.

Emily was nine when I went away to college. There was such a big age difference between us that she didn't remember when I tried to like girls in middle school. She didn't remember me parroting Charles about which girls were cute on TV. So, for her, there was no change when I moved away and finally admitted that I was gay. I came out my first semester at UT, and there had been a lot of tension at home at first. My parents were always supportive - I never doubted they loved me - but for the longest time, they didn't really get me. Emily always did. She had steadfastly stood in my corner, even at the tender age of nine, telling people in no uncertain terms that I was still Jasper.

For awhile, it seemed, our roles had been reversed - she was watching out for me, when I had always been her protector. It was an amazing feeling to have someone stand by me so loyally without question. For all of those reasons and more, I had always been fiercely protective of her, and she'd let me look after her for years without argument. She was getting more and more resistant these days, though, growing up and insisting she could do things on her own.

Emily continued to talk as I thought, telling me about where James planned to take her on their date. Shelly offered me a nice reprieve from Emily's gushing over her latest interest by bringing our sandwiches and refreshing our drinks. After she left again, I smiled at Emily, putting my hand over hers as I looked at her. "Lee, I'm glad for you. From what you've said, he sounds like a nice enough guy. But if you guys end up dating, I want to meet him."

She nodded, patting my hand. "Of course, Jasper. I wouldn't have it any other way; you know that."

I grinned, nodding. We sat and ate in silence for a little bit, and we were almost done when Emily's eyes opened wide as she suddenly straightened in her seat. I looked at her, slightly confused. "What's wrong?"

She waved her hands in front of her dismissively. "Nothing, I just remembered! You were getting a tattoo the night I called you about James! Is it healed yet? Can I see?"

I blushed slightly as I remembered what else had happened that night, and what I would be doing tomorrow. Clearing my throat slightly, I pulled up my shirt sleeve and twisted my arm to show her the knot on my inner bicep. She leaned forward, tracing it lightly with her fingers, her eyes alight with her enthusiasm. She loved tattoos and wanted one of her own but was a bit of a chicken when it came down to it.

She sat back and asked how Billy was doing – she knew I only ever let him ink me, and she'd been with me when I got the fractal on my back. I told her that he seemed alright but hadn't been as chatty as he normally was since there had been someone in the shop with us. Grinning slightly, I decided to tell her about being asked to do a photo shoot for a book about tattoos and graffiti, skimming over the finer details of Edward and the flirting we had done.

Emily listened - unusually quiet - with her arms crossed over her chest, watching me appraisingly. When I was done, she sat for a moment before raising an eyebrow and saying, "There's more to this. Out with it, Spurs."

I groaned internally, cursing the fact that she knew me so well and was so perceptive that it was difficult to hide anything from her. With a sigh - and a slight blush - I told her more about Edward. Not everything, of course – there were some thoughts little sisters didn’t need to hear - but I gave her the general idea, hopeful that I was right in thinking he was interested in me as well. The thought of wanting him to the extent I did was scaring me, more than just a little, and my thumbs drummed nervously on the table as I spoke.

She watched me, her head tilted a little to the right as she listened. With a sigh, I finished with, "I don't know though. I thought something would happen - he'd maybe ask me out or something, but...nothing. He just got all...I dunno...reticent, toward the end. I don't quite know what to make of it. What to make of tomorrow."

Emily shook her head slightly as she leaned forward, resting her elbows lightly on the edge of the table. "Well, well...look at you, big brother. I never thought I'd see that look on your face. You like him, don't you?"

I rolled my eyes but nodded. I did like him. He was funny, intelligent, artistic…appeared to be a bit of a bad boy - something I definitely liked - and he was fucking hot. I wanted to find out more. I frowned at the thought. Before I could lose myself in my thoughts, though, Emily brought me back to the conversation.

"So go; have fun tomorrow. See what happens. If he likes you as well, great. If not, then at least you'll get to have a cool experience, and you and your tattoos will be immortalized in his book." She winked.

Grinning, I nodded to her. "You're right, Lee-Lee. Now. Enough of this. No more talking about guys. This is supposed to be our 'date', so what do you want to do next?"

Her eyes glimmered with excitement as she spoke. "I signed us up to take a jewelry-making class at Beadworks on Newburry Street. We get to take home what we make!"

I rolled my eyes a little, but we both knew I would do what she wanted. We'd been brought up to express our creativity, and when she first moved to Boston, we’d made it our thing to go and learn a new craft or skill every month or so. Emily took great pleasure in finding out what was available at various arts and crafts stores, often trying to find some small, indie type place to go to instead of the larger chain stores.

So far, she had managed to drag me to a knitting class - not something I'd take up, but she had loved it and ended up being quite good at it; a quilting class to learn different techniques, since we both already knew the basics, thanks to Mama, and both wood burning and wood carving classes. All in all, she chose a variety of things to generally please both our artistic palates.

Shelly came by our table with the check right on cue, and I gave her my usual grin as I handed her my credit card. Emily rolled her eyes as she caught Shelly's blush, muttering something under her breath that I couldn't quite catch but was sure I didn't want to, anyway.

After lunch was paid for, we got up and gathered our things as we headed out the door. We walked up to my bike, and I put my helmet down on the seat so I could pull my jacket on. Emily was just zipping her own jacket up - a slightly shorter version of mine - and pulling her long white-blond hair out from under it. She grinned at me as she put on her custom-painted helmet.

I had painted it myself as a birthday present for her, replicating one of her favorite works of art on it - Van Gogh's The Café Terrace. It was one we shared, and it had taken me months to get it right - well, to get it to be recognizable and looking halfway decent, in my opinion. But she loved it, and she claimed to have gotten a ton of compliments on it as well as questions as to where she had gotten it. She said she always proudly told anyone who asked that her big brother had made it just for her.

I smiled at her as I took a good look at my little sister. She was about six inches shorter than my 6'3" with a slim build, and she kept fit. With her gray-green eyes and pouty lips, she was the spitting image of our mother, except for her hair. She'd inherited Dad's white-blond locks - nearly silver in certain light - and it suited her really well. She had turned into a very lovely young lady over the years.

She's grown up so damn quick. I sighed, shaking my head slightly before pulling my helmet on. By the time I had put my gloves on and started the bike, Emily was impatiently tapping her foot, her hands on her hips and a look on her face that quite clearly told me to hurry up already. I chuckled, swinging my leg over the bike and settling into my seat. She clambered behind me, and as soon as she was situated and the coast was clear, I took off.

The jewelry class actually ended up being a lot of fun. Whenever we went to make-and-take classes like that, we always made something for each other instead of for ourselves. This time, Emily and I both created braided leather necklaces, and she added a very nice, ornate silver slide to mine that would nestle right over the hollow of my throat when I wore it.

After the class was over, I drove her to her dorm to drop her off before heading home. I picked up some Chinese on my way, knowing I wouldn't be in the mood to do any cooking that night. It had been good to spend some time with Emily, and I’d been able to successfully put Edward out of my mind for a few hours. But now that I was home alone, I couldn't help but think about what tomorrow would bring.

Emily was right, though... I would have to wait and see what happened. But, if I was right, and he did like me…then what? I'd gotten so lost in thought that I had gone through the motions of putting my things away, eating my dinner, and cleaning up, without any memory of doing any of those things. Edward's face was predominantly on my mind, overshadowing everything else.

In the end, I went to bed earlier than I normally did, lying there staring at the ceiling for what felt like hours. Just before I finally drifted off to sleep, my last thought was, If nothing else, tomorrow will be very…interesting.

The next morning, I woke up way too early. After a look at my alarm clock - five o'clock - I fell back onto my pillow with a groan.

Fuck! The birds are still waking up, for Christ's sake!

I'd set my alarm for nine and only briefly contemplated actually getting up, but the thought of an extra four hours to kill did not sit well with me, so I tried to go back to sleep.

I must have managed it, since the alarm startled me out of a dream, which flitted out of my consciousness almost as soon as I opened my eyes, leaving the lingering feeling that it had been about Edward. And that it had been good.

Huh...

Turning onto my back, I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and just lay there for a few minutes, trying to remember the dream. It was a futile attempt, though, as it usually was with me, so feeling slightly frustrated, I got up and walked to the bathroom to do my usual morning routine.

An alleviated bladder, brushed teeth, and a quick shower and shave later, I stood in front of my closet, wearing nothing but a towel as I tried to figure out what to wear to the damn shoot. Running my fingers through my hair, I toyed with the idea of dressing up but discarded it almost immediately.

I want him to fucking notice me.

I wanted for him to be left with the same effect as he'd had on me the night we met and he'd said he was going commando.

I grinned, realizing that some of his reactions to me had been equally obvious, and that made my choice of what to wear much simpler. I grabbed my faded blue jeans and a thin white t-shirt that would show off my tattoo as well as my nipple piercings very nicely.

Fucker's not going to know what hit him.

If he's at all interested, that is.

After a moment's thought, I grabbed a belt that would be the perfect tease - the buckle said 'Rub for Luck'. Mike had given it to me years ago as a gag gift, but I loved it.

The necklace Emily had made me yesterday was also a definite piece of the ensemble. I would, after all, be taking my shirt off, and it would stand out nicely - not to mention that she'd likely get a kick out of it if it ended up in the book.

Once I was dressed, I realized that I still had hours to kill. Fucking great...

Since I would be going to Eric's birthday party after the shoot, I wanted to make sure I had everything ready for that, so I went to my desk and grabbed the tickets I'd gotten for him to see Sarah Silverman at the Boston Comedy Festival later this summer. He was a big fan, and I knew he'd love being able to see her perform live. His favorite skit of hers was one she had done with Matt Damon. According to him, it couldn't be better, since it had two funny - not to mention hot - people in it, and he wouldn't mind getting a piece of either of them.

Matt Damon - sure, I could see that; the man was funny and hot as hell. But Sarah Silverman? That one was beyond me, but hey, to each his own. Tapping the tickets against the tips of my fingers, I pondered how to give them to him. As much as I wanted to do something other than just stuff it in an envelope and hand it to him, I came up blank on another way. The closer the time came for the shoot, the more nervous I became and the more distracted I was. I gave up, ending up going the envelope route after all and shoving it in the inside pocket of my leather jacket.

Glancing at the clock and seeing that it was nearing noon, I decided to treat myself to lunch out instead of staying in and go crazy. A change of scenery would hopefully get my mind cleared a little before having to go to Edward's place. So after pulling on socks and my boots, I grabbed my jacket and helmet. He'd said he wanted me to just be me, and I needed the comfort a ride would afford me.

The drive to Beacon Hill didn't take too long, as there was little traffic for a change. I drove around for a little while, trying to figure out where I wanted to get something to eat and pass some time. When I spotted Emmet's Irish Pub, I thought I'd found just the place. Should be good for doing some people watching.

I parked the bike in a spot close by and walked in. The place was relatively full as I made my way to the bar and asked for their menu. I was told to go ahead and find a seat, and someone would be with me shortly.

I found a nice, quiet table in the corner that allowed me the perfect view of the rest of the pub and its patrons. I'd barely had a chance to take my jacket off and put my helmet down before someone came to ask what I wanted to drink. I really wanted a beer, hoping it'd relax me, but I decided against it since I was driving and would be leaving for Edward's shortly. So after ordering an unsweetened iced tea, I took my seat and looked through the menu, grumbling a little that they hadn't had sweet tea.

The waiter came by with my tea and a small basket of Sweet 'n Low; I thanked him, smiling as I looked at him - he was tall, though a little shorter than me, with short sandy blond hair and beautiful blue-gray eyes. He smiled widely at me as he noticed me watching him. His eyes appraised me as I ordered a steak salad - I wasn't very hungry, but I knew the first rule of trying to impress a guy did not include passing out due to lack of nutrition.

"I'm Riley, by the way," he said with a smile. "Just let me know if there's anything I can do for you." He picked up my menu and told me my food would be ready shortly. I thanked him again, and he winked at me before going to the bar to place my order. What the fuck?

I sat and watched as he walked away. He was cute with a nice smile. Those eyes of his were gorgeous, and his expression was somehow playful. He had a nice build, a little lanky thanks to his height, but he obviously worked out some. Nice ass, too. But I just sat there, slightly stunned as I realized that this hot guy was trying to flirt with me, and I couldn't even be bothered. Must be the nerves...

I rolled my eyes at myself as I opened a few packets of Sweet 'n Low, pouring it into my tea and stirring it. Fucking blasphemy to do it like that, but...

While I waited for my food to arrive, I took the opportunity to just look around the pub, studying the people that were there. It seemed to be a pretty local crowd, and from what I could tell by the interaction between customers and staff, they were regulars.

Riley came back shortly with my steak salad, asking if I needed anything else. I told him no, smiling politely at him and shifting in my seat when he lingered just a little longer than was necessary. After a quick, "Enjoy your meal," he finally left, and I began picking out the onions before tucking into the salad. No one likes onion breath... The food was very good, and I made a mental note to take Emily here at some point.

After I was done eating, I sat back and watched the people around me for a little longer, though at this point, I wasn't really paying too much attention anymore. My thoughts were focused instead on Edward and the upcoming shoot. I was starting to feel a little nervous. It's not like I was a model or anything. The alarm on my phone went off, indicating it was time to head to Edward's.

After settling the bill with Riley - and his attempting to give me his number, which I politely refused - I zipped up my jacket and climbed onto my bike, pulling on my helmet with a sigh. I sat like that for a minute or two, trying to center myself a little before driving. I knew where I was going, since I'd double checked Mapquest to be sure and wasn't wholly unfamiliar with the area. That, and I might have driven past his place before finding somewhere to eat.

Before I knew it, I was parked in front of Edward's house. I stared up at it for a moment, still trying to fit the image of the guy I'd met to someone being able to afford living here. It was a beautiful home, made of red bricks and what looked to be a couple of bay windows. The front door was crafted from wood and ornate glass.

I shut off the bike, removing my helmet as I walked through the gate and into the garden. There were flowers and shrubs, all well-kept and in bloom, and I found myself wondering if he took care of it himself or had a gardener. As I got closer to the front door, I heard the sound of someone playing the piano.

I stopped in front of the door and just listened for a while, smiling softly as the notes drifted to me. My eyes were on the door, taking in the vines that were now visible to me, and I traced them with my finger as I kept listening. It truly was beautiful music, and it added even more to the mystery that was Edward.

After about a minute, I shook my head and rang the doorbell. I can't very well stand here all day.

As soon as the doorbell chimed, there was a jarring sound as fingers hit discordant keys, making me cringe slightly. It took only a few moments before Edward's shadow became visible in the hallway, and I found myself holding my breath in anticipation, tightening the grip I had on my helmet.

The sight that greeted me when the door opened had me fighting not to reach out and just grab him so I could kiss him senseless. I took in his well-worn jeans and deep blue t-shirt, which had a white screen print on it that reminded me of an old English crest. His hair was disheveled, making him look like he'd just stumbled out of bed.

Fuck me... and he's barefoot?

He gestured for me to come inside, and I stepped past him into the hallway. "Hi."

Great start there… I mentally gave myself an eye roll as he began talking.

"Hi. Did you have any trouble finding..." His voice tapered off as his eyes glazed over a little, taking me in as I removed my jacket. I grinned slightly when I saw his reaction, taking the time to look more closely at him, too.

He was wearing his tragus and lobe piercings in his left ear, and the leather cuff watch caught my eye - for some reason, I really liked that on him. I frowned a little when I saw the silver thumb ring. Does that mean what I think it means? He's not seeing somebody, is he?

Before I could get much further in my musings about what the ring might mean, he cleared his throat, frowning a little as he said, "Here, I'll take that."

Our fingers brushed as he took my jacket from me, and I had to bite my cheek to stop from reacting. When he reached behind me to hang up my things, I couldn't quite help myself, shifting enough so my shoulder bumped into his chest, but I couldn't contain the sigh that escaped my lips at the contact. What are you, ten? I mentally rolled my eyes at myself again, an annoying habit I was beginning to form, I realized.

Neither of us spoke for a little while until he broke the silence with a "This way..." He turned and walked away from me, knowing I'd follow. I looked around as I walked behind him, whistling soft enough that I hoped he wouldn't hear me. Seriously impressive! Seems kind of big for one guy, though. “This is a really nice place…you live here alone?”

He said he'd inherited the place, and I got the feeling that it was his parents' house. It made sense, given the tattoos he'd shown me, and it made me ache for him that he had known such loss. It certainly does explain a few things...

Walking past the piano, I smiled, certain now that it had been him playing and wishing he would do so again so I could listen openly.

He walked into the kitchen and turned around, smiling at me as he told me to grab a seat. His smile had me captivated as he began to grab something from the oven.

Fucking beautiful...

I was lost in watching that dazzling smile, and it took me a moment to realize he was pulling food out. I sat and watched as he put a platter of what looked to be quesadillas onto the bar. The plate slipped, though, and he let out a "Damn it!" as he put his thumb to his mouth, sucking lightly on the pad of it.

God damn, what I wouldn't give to have that mouth sucking on something else...

Swallowing hard, I shifted slightly in my seat, praying he hadn't noticed. He asked me if I wanted something to drink, and when he offered a Sam Adams, I grinned.

Nice... always a good sign when a guy likes my favorite beer. I took a bite of what turned out to be some fan-fucking-tastic chicken quesadilla. He sure as hell didn't get this shit at Taco Bell! “Damn, this is good!”

I looked at him with wide eyes, and he smirked as he walked over to me, “Glad you like it…I don’t do anything if I can’t do it well.”

I narrowed my eyes a little at that, wondering just what else he would be good at and wanting to find out. He motioned to the portfolio that was resting by my elbow. “I thought you’d like to take a look at those.”

“These are the ones you’ve already done?”

He nodded. "Yes, I thought it might give you an idea of what I'm after for the book."

We talked a little about his fascination with both graffiti and tattoos, and I wondered what, exactly, held the appeal for him. The way he spoke about how people marked buildings and other belongings, even their bodies to a certain extent... it sounded as if he liked the possession it represented. Interesting. I wonder why that is...

He was in the middle of explaining how some couples would get matching tattoos, as if to mark their territory, when he suddenly stopped, pulled out his phone and asked me to program my number in. "Sorry, man, I totally forgot. I'm going to need your number so I can let you know when the pictures are done. You know, so you can check them out, see which you'd be okay with me using."

I grinned as I put my number in, as usual not even bothering with my last name. Not like there are a hell of a lot of Jaspers out there. As he put his phone back in his pocket, I asked him what he did for a living. He asked what I meant at first, and then explained that he was a social anthropologist, whatever the fuck that meant. He grinned as he said that he didn't really do anything with it, nor did he need to. He just liked to study social customs, which was why he'd started working on his book.

I frowned as I took all that in, taking another bite of the chicken quesadilla. "So how do you become a social anthropologist anyway?"

"Well…" He chuckled. "Apparently you start out with a degree in history and a minor in photography…fuck around with philosophy for awhile, and end up with a Ph.D. in anthropology when you pull your head out of your ass and realize what you enjoy. At least that was my route."

He shrugged. I watched him for a moment. "Ph.D., huh?"

He nodded.

Chuckling, I took a sip of my beer, muttering under my breath, "Fucking Doctor Masen." Fucking figures. Richie Rich not only lives the high life and doesn't have to work, but he's a fucking doctor to boot.

"So you don't work?"

“Not for money.” His voice sounded playful, and I quirked an eyebrow as he stepped closer to me and continued with a wink. “I just indulge myself with taking pictures of body art and graffiti – so many of my passions together.”

I grinned at him in response. Well, well, look who's back. This is more like the guy I met at the parlor.

I started flipping through the portfolio as he explained the different shots to me. There were a few that caught my eye, and some just plain made me cringe as I thought about how painful some of the piercings must have been, like the woman with the dragon tattooed on her back, the wingtips of it pierced with rods.

The M.C. Escher tattoo he had thrown in there was both cool and... a little disturbing, given that it was on the back of a guy's bald head. I thought I knew why he'd added it in there, though, since we both liked Escher and had a tattoo of his work.

Wonder if I'll get to see his today...

As memories of our conversation back at the parlor sprang to mind. I swallowed hard, pushing thoughts of his going commando away, quickly flipping through the book to distract myself.

My eyes landed on a guy in a bed, looking very relaxed. The picture had a very intimate feel to it, causing me to clench my jaw and frown. It took me a moment to compose myself so my voice wouldn't betray my reaction. I looked again at the picture, noting the tattoo on his side, but I couldn't understand what it said. "So what does it mean?"

I frowned as I looked up at Edward, seeing him zoned out just like he had been when he stared at my piercings at the parlor. I couldn't help but wonder if it was because of the guy in the picture this time. He blinked, apparently realizing I'd said something. “Hmm?”

I pointed at the picture and asked again, “Do you know what it means?”

He leaned forward to read the script on the man's body, murmuring. “Alea iacta est…” He straightened up again and added a little louder, “The die is cast.”

What the hell does that mean?

He must've read my mind because he continued, “Caesar said it when he invaded northern Italy – means you’ve reached a point of no return.”

I raised an eyebrow at him, not at all sure what to make of it. When he grinned and shrugged, saying “I asked him,” I frowned again.

Just when did you ask - before or after he climbed into bed?

I quickly turned the page, not liking how this was going one damn bit. When I got to the end of the portfolio, I closed it, leaning my elbows on the bar as I sipped my beer. My thoughts were a whirl, at once sure that, yes, he was gay but also that he was interested in that guy in the pictures and not me. The stab of jealousy I felt was irrational, I knew that, but damn if I didn't feel it. I wanted him. But it did explain why he hadn't asked me out that night, if he was interested in Little Caesar there.

But then why the flirting? Fuck.

To say I was confused would be an understatement. Part of me wanted to know, to ask him who that guy was to him and if he was at all interested in me. I certainly was in him - to the point where it scared me a little, since I'd not felt this sort of attraction in years. Not since Paul. That thought alone was enough to prevent me from asking.

What if he is another Paul?

Edward had moved to sit across from me, leaving me to my thoughts, and apparently lost in some of his own. Then he began to play with his tongue ring; the slight clink against his teeth as he started doing so effectively pulled me out of my musing.

He opened the portfolio again, going over certain pictures specifically and, to my dismay, focusing on the damned guy in the bed. He told me he wanted to try a few different poses to best highlight my tattoos and that he wanted me to do what felt natural so that would come across in the pictures.

Oh, so he just felt "comfortable" rolling around in bed while you took pictures?

I glanced at the pictures, again wondering if this guy was the one who held his attention or not.

He smiled at me. “So we’ll start with some of you fully dressed in the den, just to help you relax a bit and get used to me taking pictures of you. Then we’ll take your shirt off so we can see those tattoos and piercings.”

I smirked but didn't say anything for a bit. After a short pause where neither of us spoke, I asked, “Which other room are we using?”

“My room.”

We stared at each other for a moment.

Did he invite Little Caesar to his room, too? Is this what he does? Am I really going to go through with this?

I nodded, as much in response to his statement as to my own inner monologue. I finished the rest of my beer, putting it down in front of me.

“So umm…think that’s it. Any other questions?”

I began to spin the bottle between my fingers, balancing it on its edge, my eyes fixed on the picture of the guy sprawled on the bed. I wanted to know. I wanted to find out if this guy was more than just a model for his book. If I was more than just a subject to him. But I couldn’t bring myself to ask the questions. As much as I wanted to know…if he was interested, he would have to show it. After all, hadn't I learned my lesson about pursuing a guy thanks to Paul?

So instead of asking the questions I would have loved to have had answered, I said, “No…no questions.”

He nodded, and we watched each other for a little while before he took one last sip of his beer and grabbed his camera, turning it on. “Alright then…”

He walked off, presumably going to where we'd be doing the first round of pictures, and I got up to follow him. I couldn’t resist muttering under my breath one the many questions on my mind. "Will I be the only one half-naked in your bedroom?"

If he heard me, he ignored it, and I was kind of glad that he made no remarks about it or asked what I said. If he wanted me, he would show that soon enough…at least, I hoped he would.

He stopped just inside the den and looked thoughtful. While he was trying to figure out...whatever he was trying to figure out, I looked around the room. It was very nicely decorated with leather furniture, a few tall bookshelves with expensive-looking books as well as your run-of-the-mill paperbacks in a few places. This was definitely somewhere he hung out, and it showed.

What drew my eye, though, was the portrait above the fireplace. Wanting a closer look, I walked up to it, my eyes never leaving it as I took in every detail. It showed a young boy with reddish hair smiling from a woman’s lap while a man stood behind them, his hand on the woman’s shoulder. The boy looked to be no more than four or so, and he shared features of both the adults. I wonder... “Hey, is this your family?”

I turned around to look at him and saw him nod, apparently the only response he was going to give me. Turning back to the portrait, I looked more closely at the adults that stood on either side of the young boy. I could see that Edward’s unusual hair color came from his mother, while the way it was untamed seemed to be one of his father’s traits. The green eyes were definitely from his dad, but he had his mother’s lips. He's so young...

I glanced around again, trying to see any evidence of any pictures or paintings with his family in them from later on, but I found none of the three of them. Could he have lost them so soon? So young...

Again, my heart ached for the man standing behind me, and I had to fight the urge to go up to him and just hold him. I stayed where I was, though, instead turning around and watching him as I wondered if he had any other family, praying that he did. I could not imagine being without mine. Had he been close to them?

He muttered under his breath as he fidgeted with something on his camera before clearing his throat and looking at me with a small smile. "Why don't we start with you right there? Just do whatever feels natural to you, alright?"

I nodded, and he took a step back, lifting the camera and disappearing behind it. Alright, you can do this, Jasper. I took a deep breath, stepping closer to the fireplace and draping my arm along the mantle. As I turned to look at him, I noticed that he, too, took a deep breath. God, don't screw this up, whatever you do.

“That’s great." He snapped a few pictures before telling me to look the other way. As I did, my hair fell in front of my eyes, and he said, “Don’t move…”

I stayed still, allowing only my eyes to move as he walked over to me. He reached up and brushed the strands out of my face, and for a moment it looked like he would lean in and kiss me.

Do it.

I wanted him to…but he didn't. He took a step back, and I had to swallow down the bitter feeling of disappointment, shifting my eyes quickly away so he wouldn't see.

A few more pictures and then he directed me to one of the chairs, telling me to lean forward and rest my elbows on my knees. He had me move in a few different positions, always being very professional, which was reassuring, and I felt my own confidence that I wouldn't mess this up grow because of it.

He seemed very in his element, his confidence showing as he continued to direct me. It was actually arousing to watch him like this, seeing him decisive and assertive, and I was very grateful that the way he had me seated hid that fact. That his telling me what to do and how to do it was a turn on was as enticing to me as it was startling ; I had never been one who liked to be controlled in any way. The one time I had allowed someone else to be in charge had been enough to convince me never to let that happen again. But with Edward, I liked that he took control.

What the fuck?

After a few different positions, he paused to look at the screen on his camera, smiling as he did so. His next words were soft, but I heard them anyway. “Fucking perfect…” He looked up, giving me that hot-as-hell crooked grin as he continued, “These are looking great – you’re a natural.”

I smirked in response. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

He laughed quietly at that. “Well, I guess it’s time to make you just a little more natural then…”

More natural, huh...

I looked at him in surprise, wondering if he meant that the way I thought he might, as images of the pictures he had shown me flashed through my mind.

Maybe not just professional after all...

He winked and said, “Take off your shirt. Let’s see those tattoos.”

Oh. Feeling more than a little disappointed that he was still not making any moves - maybe he really isn't interested - I reached back and pulled my shirt over my head. He watched me for a moment before putting the camera back in place and snapping more pictures. The way he had looked at me before pulling the camera up again had me wondering if I was going out of my ever-loving mind. I could have sworn that I saw...something... in his eyes.

I tossed my shirt on the floor and went to sit down in the chair again, hearing the clicking of the camera as Edward took shot after shot. His voice was low as he said, “Good…now lean back in the chair…there you go. Remember, do whatever feels right…”

I leaned back against the chair, lifting both my arms over my head so it would showcase the knot on my inner bicep. All of a sudden, the clicking stopped, and I raised an eyebrow as I looked right at Edward. He had stopped moving. What the fuck is his deal? I grinned slightly as it finally dawned on me that he was having a hard time staying focused. Because of me.

Fuck yes.

The camera clicked, and I heard him utter a soft, “Looking good, Jasper…” as he continued to click away, a slight blush visible on his cheeks - what little I could see of them.

He's definitely interested, or at the very least affected by me. Why the fuck isn't he doing something about it?

I don't know how long we spent taking picture after picture of me in the den, shifting positions to ostensibly show off the phoenix and nipple piercings. Out of the blue, he said in an even voice, “Alright, now take off your pants.”

I looked at him, utterly shocked. What the fuck? Did he just say what I think he said?

He chuckled softly and said, “Kidding…I just need you to turn around so I can get a few pictures of your back.”

Oh, really? We'll see about that!

I slowly lowered my hands to my waist, unclasping my belt buckle, and I bit my cheek to stop myself from laughing as I watched his eyes follow my hands. I undid my belt slowly, and when his eyes widened, I smirked.

Didn't fucking think so...

Snickering, I turned around and fastened the buckle again, slipping my thumbs through my belt loops as my hands rested on my hips.

The weight of my thumbs pulled my jeans down low enough for it to be obvious that I was going commando, and I grinned to myself. That's right, buddy. I can go commando, too.

After a little while, I realized I hadn't heard the camera go off. I do believe the good doctor is a little distracted. I shifted slightly, half wanting to turn around and catch him staring, and half worried he would be watching me and still not act.

Finally I heard the camera again, and I couldn't resist finding out, so I slowly turned only my head, cutting my eyes to his as I glanced over my shoulder.

Come on. Do something. Show me.

I fucking want you, too.

I nearly sighed in exasperation when he just cleared his throat again and told me to turn back around. I bent my knee as I shifted my weight to my other leg, resting one hand on my hip while I placed the other on my thigh, close to my belt buckle. I had to bite back a growl of frustration as I saw his eyes quickly shifting away as if afraid he'd get caught. He took a couple of pictures before asking me to scratch the back of my head to show off the knot again.

Finally, he said he had enough pictures in the den, smiling softly at me as he started to walk off, expecting me to follow. Taking advantage of the fact that he was leading the way as we went up the stairs and through the hallway, I allowed myself to really appreciate the view of his ass in front of me. I clenched my jaw to keep from reaching out and just grabbing it as he walked up the stairs, rolling my eyes at myself. Fucking juvenile...

As we passed the first room, I glanced inside, noticing the same bed linen as I'd seen in the pictures with Little Caesar. Hmm, interesting. So not his room, presumably. This...could be good. I’d paused in my musing, so I had to walk a little faster to catch up to him as he went all the way down the hall and into the room at the end. His room.

He stood for a moment, as if at a loss as to what to do next, running his hand through his hair as he told me to feel free to look around.

Resisting the urge to follow suit and run my own fingers through his hair, I stepped inside and took in the dark chocolate furniture. Everything was crisp and clean, the bed linens a mixture of light and dark to offset the furniture, with pillows in chocolate, green, and white strewn on top.

There were several lamps scattered around, and some of them didn't quite seem to fit in with the rest, leaving me wondering whether he'd brought them in for the shoot. I watched as he moved some of them, making me certain that this was indeed the case. I chanced another look around, noticing the balcony, and walked over to the doors leading to it.

I smiled as I thought how nice it would be to wake up and be able to have breakfast out there. Shaking my head to rid myself of those thoughts - not likely to happen - I turned to look around the room once more. This time, my eyes fell on the beautiful artwork above his bed. It was a sepia photograph of tulips – a close up - but it had been enlarged until it was nearly the width of the headboard. It was beautiful. The whole room seemed to exude Edward.

His voice pulled me out of my musings. “Hey, would it be alright if I gave you one of my shirts to start with in here? I think a dress shirt would be perfect – give us a different look.”

I raised my eyebrows at him, feeling my lips twitch into a smile as I nodded. Again with the clothes going in the wrong direction.

If you want us to be equal, you could just take yours off, too.

He smiled and walked into his closet. I went over to the bed, running my fingers lightly along the covers, satisfied that this was definitely not the same bed Little Caesar had been in. I quickly straightened up and stepped away from the bed as I heard him walking back, not wanting to get caught.

He was grinning slightly, a little shyly, as he came over to me and handed me a white button down. As he went about fidgeting with his camera, I pulled the shirt on, noting the clean, crisp smell it had. Just like everything else; nice. I buttoned up the shirt, taking my time doing so. I kept stealing glances at him, wondering if he was watching and if he liked what he was seeing.

I breathed a small sigh when he didn't make any move at all, and I finally tucked the shirt he had given me into my jeans. He shook his head slightly, and I wondered what that was about.

After the den, I thought I'd figured out what it was he was after for his pictures, so I went ahead and sat down on the bench at the foot of his bed, making myself comfortable. Might as well get this bit over with. I shifted positions several times, similar to what I had done downstairs, though I focused on him this time. The more comfortable I got, the more provocative my movements became. I wanted him to just snap and make a move already.

But nothing happened. Just click after click, picture upon picture. His voice was husky as he said, “Time to take off your shirt again…”

Oh, fuck yes...

His voice sounded so similar to the time I had called and woken him up, and that simple fact went straight to my groin. I'd caused him to sound like that; I was certain of that now. The thought bolstered my confidence, and I stood - keeping my eyes on him as I slowly unbuttoned his shirt.

I didn't care about the damn shoot anymore - I wanted to growl as he lifted the camera back to his face and began clicking away. Pulling the tails of the shirt out of my pants, I turned slightly so my chest was visible through the opening.

“Alright, take it off slowly so I can get a few pictures…” His voice had lowered further, indicating that he was, in fact, reacting to what I was doing.

Come on. Get over here and help me get rid of the rest of my clothes.

I kept my eyes on him, never wavering as I let the shirt slowly fall off my shoulders.

Throwing the shirt onto his bed, I allowed my eyes to flicker over him. When I saw the now very obvious bulge, I knew he wanted me.

Mmm, I do like what I'm seeing...

I know you want me. I want you, too.

Maybe this'll help things along... I walked over to the side of his bed and lowered myself on it, laying down against the pillows and slowly pulling up first one and then the other arm. I looked up at the ceiling as I did so before turning to find him again. My eyes looking directly at him - as if the damn camera wasn't even there - I slowly moved one hand down my pecs to my abs and teasingly lower still before I turned onto my side and pulled my arm back up over my head.

Rolling onto my stomach, I let one arm dangle over the side of his bed, allowing him a good view of the fractal. After a few heartbeats, I heard him give a soft moan, so I turned around to look up at him, taking in his shallow breathing and the way his pants were now straining.

What the fuck? He wants me, I know it; I can see that he's turned on. So why the fuck is he still not doing anything about it?

What the hell is it going to take to get him to make a move?

I knew that my own desire had to be evident to him by now. I couldn't have willed my hard-on away if I wanted to, and I didn't fucking want to! I wondered what more I could do to show him that, yes, I was interested. Keeping my eyes on him, I stood up slowly and walked a few steps away before turning back around to face him.

I rested my hands on my hips, and I wanted to reach over and fling the damn camera out of his hands when I heard him taking even more pictures. What the hell...?

I'd had enough. I slowly unbuckled my belt again before unbuttoning my jeans, lowering the zipper slowly, seductively. Invitingly. Come the fuck on, man.

I smirked at him, raising an eyebrow. He started taking pictures again, but this time it seemed more energetic, as if there was some urgency compelling him to do so. Come on, any minute now...

I knew he was getting a good look, and I knew he could see for certain that there was no barrier between us anymore. I wanted him to come over and remove the last of it, when suddenly he stopped and looked down at the camera in disbelief.

He blushed furiously as he said he had enough and thanked me. About fucking time! I felt sure that now that the business part was over, he would make a move... ask me out, kiss me, throw me onto his bed, something. I chuckled softly in relief and anticipation as I zipped up my pants again and buckled up.

I watched in confusion as several emotions flitted across his face. Suddenly he turned on his heel and stalked out of his room, anger emanating from him as I watched his retreating form. Fuck! Did I push too far? Shit...great job there, Jasper.

I followed after him, needing to make sure he wasn't angry with me - or at least that he wouldn't stay that way. My insides churned at the thought of having to leave, knowing I had upset him somehow. My voice was low as I caught up to him and asked, “Did they come out okay?” I wanted him to know I cared. I needed him to know that this afternoon had been important.

He slowed, finally stopping as his shoulders slumped and he turned to look at me. I'm not sure what he saw, but his voice had softened as he answered, “Yeah, they look amazing.”

I smiled softly at him in response, relieved that he felt that the images of me at least were amazing.

“Thank you,” he said, “I really appreciate you posing for me.”

My smile brightened at that, and I blushed, realizing that I'd been taunting him all afternoon, daring him to try and make a move when he’d been trying to do his job.

Idiot!

We watched each other in silence again, and I wanted to close the distance between us and kiss him. As much I liked Edward when he was flirty or foul-mouthed, I found myself drawn to this softer side of him, too.

He broke the silence first by asking, “So…want a drink?”

He grinned crookedly, and I briefly considered - again - canceling my plans tonight. Fuck! “I wish I could… I’m actually running late for dinner, though. I’m sorry.” I paused briefly, wanting to kick myself for having agreed to do this today since I had to leave now. "Umm, yeah...do you mind if I call them real quick actually?"

“Of course not.” As he walked out of the hallway and into the den, I let out a deep breath. It felt like my lungs weren't the only thing deflating at this point. Was he just being friendly, or...?

My eyes lingered for a moment on the spot where he'd walked off before I turned around and pulled my phone from my pocket. I dialed the number easily enough and was expecting Mike to answer when I heard Jessica on the other end.

"Hey stranger, we were beginning to think you'd bailed on us."

“Jessica? Hey…yeah, I’m running a little late. I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes…”

"Okay, no worries. We went ahead and ordered the cheese fondue as a starter, and your sweet tea's ready and waiting for you." I could practically hear her grinning as she continued teasingly. "So how did the, err... modeling session go?"

“Yeah, that sounds good…I’ll tell you about it when I get there.” I chuckled softly, hoping that I'd have something more to tell after this call and that he might ask me out after all.

"Okay...we'll see you soon then. Hey, what do you want to eat? We'll go ahead and place the order so it's ready when you get here."

“Just order something for me – you know what I like.”

"We've got our usual table, so see you soon, okay?"

“Yeah, thanks…see you soon.”

I hung up with a sigh, my eyes darting back to where Edward had left. Running my fingers through my hair, I took a deep breath, feeling nervous again all of a sudden. I went to follow Edward into the den and saw him put down the camera and run his hands through his hair. He turned around when he heard me approach, and I could not quite figure out the look in his eyes.

Feeling exposed - and more vulnerable than I'd ever care to admit - suddenly, I grabbed my shirt, tugging it on quickly. After everything, he still hadn't made a move. I'd been all but naked in his bedroom and nothing. I couldn't help but wonder if I might have been wrong about Edward wanting to see me again. I was certain of his orientation, and even fairly sure of his attraction to me - his body's reactions had been evidence enough of that. But that didn't necessarily mean he wanted me.

I nervously ran my fingers through my hair, again; the hush in the air did nothing to quench those nerves. When Edward spoke up, I was actually relieved to have the silence broken. "Thanks again for posing for me, Jasper. I hope it wasn’t too bad.”

I grinned slightly as I answered him. “Not at all… I had fun, actually.” And I had, all in all. It had, if nothing else, been an interesting experience, and Edward had made the shoot, in and of itself, a painless endeavor.

I can't say much for the case of blue balls I'm having right now, but that's another matter entirely.

I shot him an apologetic smile. I had to go, but I was reluctant to leave. "I'm sorry; I really have to get going..."

“Of course. No problem.” His voice sounded... off, but he smiled and turned to lead me to the front door.

Once there, we both stood awkwardly, watching each other. Fucking hell... Both of us kept glancing at the other, then looking away, for what felt like ages. Ask him... you want to see him again, ask him.

I shuffled my feet nervously, even opening my mouth several times to just ask him myself, but I couldn't do it. I'd given so many clues that I was into him that he had to know by now. I'd done more to show him than I had done for anyone other than Paul. And I just could not bring myself to take that one last step. It was his turn now.

I frowned, stuffing my hands into my pockets. Just ask me! Please! The silence stretched on though, as the minutes ticked away. He finally broke it, looking as though he just remembered something as he said, “Oh, by the way… I wanted to tell you congratulations.”

What the fuck is he talking about? I looked at him in confusion as I asked, “On what?”

“On the baby! I couldn’t help but overhear your phone call at Black Ink…”

His voice trailed off as I started to chuckle. “Thanks! But it’s definitely not mine – it’s my friend Ben’s. I’m the godfather.”

My thoughts instantly went to little Bella, and I felt myself smile. I was proud to be her godfather, to be a part of her life.

“Oh…sorry. It just sounded like…” He shrugged as he paused a moment before asking, “Do you have any kids?”

I laughed as the image of me with a wife and kids flitted through my mind. Not fucking likely. “No, no kids for me.”

The image of the impossible family was replaced with one of him by my side, and I found myself muttering under my breath, "The day I have kids is the day you can bear children." I turned my head slightly, my eyes shifting away as both the thought and what I had said took me by surprise. Never in my life had I ever entertained the thought of a family of my own.

Where the fuck did that come from?

He had reached for my jacket and helmet, handing me my jacket first. I pulled it on, but the front of it folded under, and before I could do anything about it, Edward's hand had reached out to straighten it. The back of his hand ran over my chest before he trailed the back of his fingers up my neck to my ear. I shivered at his touch, my grip on my jacket tightening to keep from pulling him to me as I clenched my jaw.

My eyes met his as his fingers lingered there a moment longer. God damn it, why won't you fucking kiss me? Just lean in a bit, and I swear to god, I'll take it from there. Do it! When he made no other move and the silence became too much for me to bear, I zipped my coat up.

Edward handed me my helmet; his voice had softened considerably as he said, “I’ll call you when the pictures are ready?" It came out more as a question, almost as if he were asking permission. What does that mean?

I nodded, my own tone of voice mimicking his without my meaning to. “Good night.”

He wished me good night as well, and I walked out without another word or a glance back. I had to get out of there; I had never been so confused or frustrated by a guy in my life.

I got to Aro's a little later than I had told Jessica I'd be there, and our food was already on the table when I sat down next to Eric. I apologized for being late, and Gianna came with a fresh glass of sweet tea for me, for which I thanked her. We ate, everyone chattering away merrily while I remained fairly quiet, my mind going back to the afternoon. When Jess began teasing me about being out of it, I shook off any further thoughts of Edward and focused on the people around me.

Eric - who seemed to be doing a lot better after his break up - was thrilled with the tickets I'd gotten him. I told him to be sure to use the second ticket only on someone who'd be able to appreciate Sarah Silverman, too - which excluded me. He chuckled, saying that he'd be sure to put them to good use, and winked at me.

Jessica and Mike asked about the photo shoot, and I related most of what had happened. Jessica accepted the abbreviated version, but I knew by Mike's shrewd look that he would want to know more. He would wait until we were alone, though. He knew me well enough to know that I wouldn't give out more than I had right then.

Aro had provided a platter of cannoli to celebrate Eric's birthday. It was something he always did whenever one of us celebrated a birthday here. He would never let us pay for it, always insisting it was on the house, and that we were 'famiglia'.

Not long after the cannoli was polished off, I made my excuses and went home. I had had enough of the day and was ready to just go to bed. When I got home, I tried to do just that but ended up lying awake for what felt like hours, visions of Edward floating around my mind. I was still aching, but part of me didn't want to acknowledge it. He hadn't wanted me. I was sure that if he had, he would have made a move, and I just didn't want to give in and take care of things myself.

Again.

Because if I did, I knew that it would be to him - his voice, his face, his touch. I shivered again as I remembered the feel of his hand running up my chest and neck. With a growl of frustration, I caved. As I had done quite a few times since meeting him, I took care of the aching need I had for him, only this time I was replaying the events of this afternoon, fantasizing about what might have happened if he had acted.

I took a deep breath, closing my eyes, and suddenly it wasn't my hand palming my hard-on. It was his. And I wasn't lying in my own bed. I was standing in his bedroom, my pants unzipped as he made that move I'd been waiting for, stepping over to me and slipping his hand down the front of my jeans, wrapping those long, piano-playing fingers around my throbbing cock. I gave myself over to the sensations, creating a blend of fantasy and memory that soon had me panting with my release before I was finally, finally able to fall into a fitful sleep.

The next few days I kept mostly to myself, which was an unusual thing for me to do. The photo shoot - Edward's inaction combined with his reaction to me as well as my own to him - had thrown me. Mike kept trying to talk to me at the office but I brushed him off. I wasn't ready to discuss what had happened or how I felt yet. Hell, I wasn't even sure myself how I felt.

Thankfully, Monday was busy enough with calls and problem shooting that he didn't have many opportunities to talk to me. Every free moment I had, my mind went back to Edward, trying to figure him out. When it was time to go home, I escaped the office quickly, not wanting to give Mike an opening to start in on me. It was only after I'd gotten home that I realized that - throughout the day - I had been hoping to hear from Edward.

Tuesday was quieter at work, and Mike spent a lot of time in my office. He didn't try to talk to me about what had me so distracted, just keeping the conversation to either business or other topics that were safe, and I appreciated that. He was letting me know he was here if I needed him, just like he always was. He watched me quietly as I doodled while we talked about this, that, or the other. He broached the subject only once, after having observed me sketch yet another set of eyes. Always the same eyes.

"They're his; aren't they? The guy from the shoot?" The one who was on the phone that day you blew your top?

I could hear his unspoken question as well as the ones he’d asked aloud, and all I could do was nod, my eyes glancing surreptitiously at my phone as it lay silently on my desk. I wondered how long it'd be before I would hear from him. If I ever did.

How long does it take to print off some goddamn pictures anyway?

I had apologized to Mike for my outburst as soon as I'd gotten off the phone with Edward that day and given a vague explanation about the photo shoot. Mike had accepted the apology, but had given me an odd look. When I asked him what was going through his head, he had just shrugged it off and changed subjects.

When I didn’t really answer him about the eyes – Edward’s eyes – he gave me that same look and asked me if I thought the Red Sox would beat the Angels at all this series. We talked awhile longer until five o’clock finally rolled around, and he left my office, telling me to call him if I wanted to hang out.

With the workday over once again, I went home - again spending my time alone. I wasn't in the mood for company. Well, I would have made one exception to that, but my day ended without any word from him. Again.

I woke on Wednesday feeling antsy and annoyed. Murphy seemed to have it out for me that day, as just about everything that could go wrong did. On my way to work, I stopped by the coffee shop around the corner from our office to pick up our standard mid-week order - as I always did. Only this time, one of the carriers buckled, and I spilled four drinks all over my shirt, tie, and pants. Thankfully I'd not worn one of Emily's ties, as that really would have pissed me off.

As it was, it was bad enough. I called Mike to let him know I'd be coming in late and asked him to call in another order and have it delivered this time. When I finally made it into the office - wearing a plain, boring tie, just in case - I found a panicked Felix who was trying very hard to convince whoever was on the other end of the line that I was running late but would be with them shortly.

The call ended up being the same fucking moron who had wasted my time the day I had gone to get my tattoo. He was having 'trouble' with the program again. Nearly an hour-and-a-half and a raging headache later, he was finally sorted. Once again, he had proven that he shouldn't be allowed anywhere near a computer. For some reason, he'd gotten it into his head that our invoicing software was supposed to keep up with his employees' time, when the two were not at all related. He said he was ready to begin using that ‘feature,’ and he kept asking me which tab had the ‘clock in’ button.

I spent the majority of the time I was on the phone with him trying to explain that he hadn't asked us to design software that did anything of the sort for him. In the end, he'd gone off searching for his original contract, discovered I was right, and again ended by apologizing profusely when all I wanted him to do was shut the fuck up and go away.

The entire day ended up being one disaster after another, and at the end of the day, I was sick of putting out fires left and right. I wanted - no, needed - a night out, just to get drunk and let loose, no matter if I had to work the next day or not - especially since I still hadn't heard from Edward. Honestly, I was seriously beginning to doubt I ever would. One way or another, I was almost ready to just be done with the whole situation. I either wanted him in my life or out of it without all this 'Will he call me?' bullshit.

I walked over to Mike's office, waiting in his doorway when I saw he was on the phone. He looked up and waved me in to take a seat. It took him nearly ten minutes before he was finally done, and the longer I sat waiting, the antsier I became. He noticed my knee bouncing in agitation and grinned at me, then pointed at the phone and rolled his eyes as he made a 'yapping' motion with his hand.

Great...Jessica. That could take another hour.

I mouthed 'Jessica?' and he nodded, holding up his finger to indicate he was almost done and for me to wait. I paid no attention at all to what he said to her, tuning him out as best I could. It wasn't because I didn't care, but because this was a private conversation of sorts, and it was none of my business.

I couldn't quite keep from hearing everything, though, and his "I love you. I'll see you when you get back tomorrow," made my heart clench in an almost unfamiliar way, causing me to frown. I quickly pushed any thoughts on the matter aside as he hung up and looked up at me.

He grinned as he ran his fingers through his hair. "Sorry about that. You know how Jess can get. She's just landed in Vegas, but her return flight got canceled."

"Ah, sucks to be her, stuck in the city that never sleeps." I grinned and winked at him. "You know what they say about Vegas, Mike."

He laughed. "Nah, I'm not worried; she's a good girl."

I nodded. Keeping my face as straight as I could, I deadpanned, "Yeah, man, I know. You got lucky. Don't know why she'd ever put up with the likes of you."

He narrowed his eyes before grinning. "Same reason you do, J - you just can't resist my charms."

He winked, and we both ended up laughing. God, that feels good after a day like today. "Hey, Mike, how about you and I go out for a drink? Today's royally sucked, and I could use a beer or two. What do you say?"

He got up, grabbing his suit jacket off the back of his chair and pulling it on. "Sure thing, bro. But I'm going home first to change out of this monkey suit and feed the cat, or else Jess'll lynch me when she gets back." He rolled his eyes.

I chuckled softly, nodding. "Yeah, I guess I'll go home and change, too. See you at the Cask 'n Flagon in thirty?"

We both left at the same time, bidding everyone who was straggling in the office a good night. I made it home fairly quickly, lucking out on traffic being light on the way. Figuring it was going to be just Mike and me, I opted to wear my faded blue jeans and a Red Sox shirt. I knew they'd be playing tonight and thought I might as well have a little fun flying my colors, so to speak.

I chuckled as I pulled the dark blue t-shirt over my head. It had been a birthday present from Mike, who thought that the phrasing on it - 'Yank These' with two baseballs under it - was apt in more ways than one. And I happened to agree with him.

I'd called a cab as soon as I had gotten home, fully planning to indulge in quite a bit of alcohol at the bar. A quick glance out my window told me it was already waiting on me, so I hurriedly pulled on my Doc boots, grabbed my wallet and keys, locked the door behind me, and was on my way.

The driver was insane. I had never before feared for my life when taking a cab, but I sure as hell did with the way he was weaving in and out of traffic, cutting corners, and just plain driving like a maniac. I was all too happy when we made it safely to the Cask, so I paid the driver and made my way quickly inside, heading straight for the bar.

Fucking hell...I need a drink. Now.

Taking a seat at the bar, I ordered a Sam Adams. The first thing I did was take a long pull of my beer. The second thing was send Mike a text saying I was at the bar already. I got a message back almost immediately - 'be there soon as poss. stuck behind accident.'

I cursed lightly under my breath. Fucked up day. Hope he gets here soon. I shot him a text back telling him to be safe before putting my phone in my pocket. Taking a sip from my beer, I turned around, getting my first good look at the crowd for the night. It seemed I wasn't the only one to be sporting Sox gear, and I could see that ESPN was doing their usual pre-game coverage on the television.

I didn't pay it any attention as I let my gaze wander the room. At first glance, nothing - or rather, no one - caught my eye, so I turned my back on the crowd to watch the screen above the bar. After a few minutes, the bartender came over with a pint of draft beer, saying that it was courtesy of the gentleman at the other end of the bar.

Raising an eyebrow, I turned to look at the man he indicated and saw a handsome guy smiling at me, lifting his beer in greeting. I took my glass, lifting it in thanks and flashing him a smile of my own.

Now there's how you fucking make a move...

He walked over to me, and I took the opportunity to really look at him. He was slightly shorter than me, standing about six feet tall, fairly muscular, and he had wide shoulders. He had very dark, almost black, curly hair. He had a very gentle look to him; his eyes were a light brown, and he was clean shaven.

He wasn't my usual type, but as frustrated as I was with things at the moment - and appreciating that he initiated contact with me despite the fact that he had no clue as to my orientation - I decided to give him a shot. Mike wasn't here yet, anyway.

I lifted my glass again, feeling my lips curl into a half-smile as my eyes met his. "Thank you."

We talked for a little bit, both of us finishing our beers probably a little faster than was wise, especially for me as I hadn't eaten yet. He ordered us another round of beers, and the more we talked, the flirtier he got, and I had a hard time not responding to it. Fuck, I didn't even really want to try to restrain myself. It felt nice to know he was interested, and he seemed to be an okay guy, so I flirted right back.

Judging by his body's response, it was pretty fucking obvious that he was into me and he didn’t try to hide it. See, it's not that fucking difficult... I quickly stifled that thought; the last thing I wanted tonight was to think of him.

John - as he introduced himself - had progressively gotten closer to me the more we talked, to the point where he was standing right next to me, his thigh brushing against mine. I had a fleeting thought about Mike and wondered where the hell he was, but between the guy standing next to me and the beer going to my head, I was getting to the point of not really giving a damn anymore.

Another round of beers later found him brushing his fingers up my arm, his eyes intent on mine. Neither of us cared exactly where we were and that there was a bar full of people around us, or that the game had finally started. I shifted slightly in my seat so that my legs were on either side of him and placed a hand on his hip. He took the silent invitation and leaned in, brushing his lips against mine, softly at first.

After a few chaste kisses, I tilted my head and deepened the kiss. Despite the alcohol consumption, I found I couldn't really get into it. Kissing John was doing nothing for me, and truth be told, it felt a little like kissing a dead fish - not that I'd know what kissing a living one felt like. He just...sucked at it, and not in a good way, either.

I opened my eyes and pulled away from him, about to tell him thanks, but no thanks, when I saw Mike finally walking into the bar. John, who was standing with his back to the door, had no idea and was partially blocking me from sight already, so I decided to have a little fun with Mike.

Fucker deserves it for making me wait so long, anyway. Plus it'll get rid of John-boy.

I ducked out of sight, pulling John fully in front of me with a muttered, "Shit!"

John looked at me with confusion. "What's wrong?"

He turned his head to see what might have upset me and spotted Mike as he was looking around, obviously looking for someone. He turned to look at me with a frown, and I shook my head. "Nothing...nothing..."

John took a step back to create some space between us - Thank you, God - turning to look at Mike again, who was still searching the crowd. He had pulled his phone out and texted someone. A few seconds later, my phone indicated I had a new text message. Perfect timing. John's brow furrowed as he shuffled to the side a little, and I tried to duck out of sight. "What the fuck's going on, Jasper? Who is that guy?"

I bit my lip, feigning embarrassment as I said, "That would be my boyfriend."

John's eyes widened slightly before flashing in anger. I slipped off of the stool and walked over to Mike, leaving John standing at the bar, seething. I wrapped my arms around Mike, who automatically hugged me back, muttering, "Who the fuck are you trying to ditch now?"

I snickered as I whispered in his ear, "Guy at the bar that looks like he's about to spit bullets."

He grumbled, though he kept a smile on his face as he did so. "You know, someday you're going to have to grow the fuck up and tell a guy you're not interested."

We pulled away, slipping an arm around each other's waist as we made it to a table at the other end of the bar away from John. Chuckling, I kissed Mike on the cheek, just to really ruffle his feathers a little. "Nah, this is much more fun, darlin'."

We sat down, and Mike huffed, rolling his eyes. "For you, maybe. You know that your antics scare the ladies away, don't you? How's a guy ever supposed to get lucky with the girls if his best friend keeps feeling him up, hmm?"

I grinned, jerking my thumb toward the bar where a couple of girls were blatantly ogling both of us. "Doesn't scare away all the women."

Mike followed my eyes and shuddered as he took in the girls. Both were dressed in rather skanky clothes and had colorful - and not very flattering at that - tattoos covering their arms. He turned back to me in disbelief. "Not a fucking chance, man."

I chuckled again. "You have Jess anyway, man. So think of it as my doing you a favor by keeping her competition at bay."

I winked at him, and he rolled his eyes. "Whatever, dude. Drinks are on you tonight. You fucking owe me, and you know it."

A server showed up right at that moment, so we ordered a couple of Sam Adams and some nachos. I needed food, and I needed it pronto or I'd really be well on my way to being plastered, and I had no intention of becoming that drunk when I had to work the next day.

As we waited on the food to arrive, we chatted a bit about how things were going with Mike and Jessica. Jess had been putting in more hours lately and had been gone a lot. She was trying to get enough hours to qualify for international flights. She said she loved being a flight attendant but that it could get a little boring doing the same continental flights again and again.

She was supposed to be home today, but as Mike had already told me, her flight home had gotten canceled. It happened from time to time, for various reasons, and as much as it sucked, they dealt with it. I envied them at times. They loved each other very much, and they were good for each other. They somehow made it work, despite leading vastly different lives.

Mike took a long drink from his beer before putting it down and folding his arms, leaning forward onto the table as he looked at me. I knew the subject was about to get changed, and I was equally sure I wouldn't particularly like the change in topic.

He tilted his head to the bar to where I had left John. "Those didn't look like his eyes."

I frowned as I stared into my beer, feeling uncomfortable all of a sudden, though I wasn't entirely sure why. "They weren't," I said simply.

Neither of us said anything for a while. Our server brought the nachos, giving me a short reprieve from talking as we ate. I could feel Mike's eyes on me the entire time, and I knew it wouldn't be long before the questions began.

I was surprised when he didn't start as soon as we were done, instead ordering another round of beer. Last one for me tonight, or I will regret it in the morning. He ordered us a pizza, asking them to please hold the olives. With that done, he turned his attention back to me.

Here we go.

"J, talk to me, man. What's been going on with you? You've been acting out of sorts for a couple of weeks now."

I shrugged, part of me hoping he'd drop it, while another part was hoping he would be able to tell me what the fuck was going on with Edward. I sure as hell had no clue anymore. So much for not thinking of him tonight... I sighed.

He gave me a scrutinizing look. "It's him, isn't it? The guy from the shoot? The one that's had you acting like you can't tell your ass from a hole in the ground?"

I didn't really know what to say, so I gave him a half-shrug and a nod in answer.

"Jasper..." He sighed, sitting back in his seat as he laid one hand on the table, the other running through his hair in frustration. "Come on, man. Give me something here. I know something's up with you; I've known you too fucking long not to know it's about a guy, but hell...ya gotta give me something more to go on. Maybe start with his fucking name?" He gave me a small grin.

With a groan, I folded my hands and placed them on the table in front of me as I leaned on it with my elbows. "Edward."

Just speaking his name, it was as if the floodgates opened, and it all poured out. I told him everything, in detail this time, from the moment I got to the tattoo parlor to the moment I left Edward's house after the shoot.

As I talked, the server brought our pizza, and I asked for a glass of water while he was there. Mike didn't say a word until after I was done, letting me air it all out. I was so preoccupied with telling him everything that I never even really tasted what I was eating.

When I was done, I ran my hands through my hair and sat back, feeling frustrated all over again. I scowled when I saw Mike watching me with a stupid grin on his face. "What?" I grumbled.

He just shook his head and chuckled. "Dude, you're in trouble."

I growled. "No need to tell me that, Captain Obvious. I don't even know why I'm obsessing over some guy who doesn't seem to be interested... or at the very least one who can't make up his fucking mind about it."

Mike raised an eyebrow at me but said nothing. I frowned at him. "What?!"

He leaned forward again, resting his elbows on the table, and looked me in the eye. "J, from what you just told me, you pretty much taunted the poor guy during that shoot. What with you doing a near strip tease and then chuckling after he thanked you, he probably thought you were making fun of him or something. Not to mention the whole baby confusion. Could it be possible that maybe he's unsure of where exactly you stand in all of this?"

I felt the air leave my lungs with a whoosh as I sat back against my chair at his words. I'd had similar thoughts myself but to hear Mike say it really made it hit home. Especially adding in the whole confusion about little Bella. What a fucked up mess this is...

I muttered, more to myself than to Mike, as I wasn't expecting an answer, "So now what the fuck do I do?"

Mike shrugged. "Now you get the joy of dealing with what most common folk deal with. The age-old question of 'does he or doesn't he like me'. You're going to have to wait and see. He's supposed to call you when the photos are done, right?" I nodded. "See what happens when he calls."

I frowned, looking up at him. "What if he doesn't? Call, I mean."

He grinned. "Jasper, from what you've told me, I have a feeling he'll call you. Just give him some time. When he does, though, you're going to have to clear things up, or you'll regret it in the end."

I nodded again, unable to say anything in response. What he had said made sense, and I was glad to have gotten his view on things. But that still left me in the same position as before - I still didn't know.

He pursed his lips, looking at me through narrowed eyes. “Or, you know, you could always call him. Tonight. Explain shit to him.”

I was already shaking my head. “No fucking way. It’s not happening.”

He sighed and nodded. “Yes, I know. Was worth a shot, though.”

We wrapped the evening up shortly after that. I paid for everything, since - as Mike reminded me - I owed him for earlier that night. He had also taken a cab to get here, so we shared one going home, dropping him off first before I finally got home and crawled into bed. I made sure to put my alarm on, setting the one on my phone as well, just in case.

The next morning I woke up tired but otherwise feeling relatively good. No hangover; nice surprise. As a complete turnaround from the day before, this day went by at a snail's pace. There were no new projects, no upcoming trips to plan, no problems to work out. It was boring as hell, and when five o'clock rolled around, I was all too happy to just go home.

I'd had far too much time to think, and most of my thoughts had, of course, been centered on Edward. The pad on my desk was evidence enough of that, as all that had poured out from my hands had been images of him.

Grabbing some take out on the way home, I went through the motions of my after work ritual, changing into lounge pants and eating dinner. After taking care of the few dishes that had come from that, I went to the desk, grabbed my pencils and pad, and sat down, determined to work on something - anything - that wasn't Edward.

Normally, sketching was a relaxing exercise for me. Not so tonight. No matter what I tried to do, Edward kept cropping up in some form or another. I'd placed my phone on the desk out of habit, and when it rang, it startled me. I didn't bother checking to see who it was as I continued working on my sketch, figuring that at this hour, it'd be Emily or Mike. "Hello?"

"Hey... Jasper?"

Frowning, I stopped sketching as I sat up. "Yeah?" It took a moment before my brain kicked into gear, recognizing Edward's voice. I bit my lip, trying to keep the conversation I'd had with Mike in mind. "Edward?"

“Yeah, it’s me.” There was a brief pause, and then, “Oh, sorry. I hope I didn’t…wake you…or anything.”

Chuckling softly, I tossed my pencil onto the pad before running my fingers through my hair. “Nah. ‘S alright. I was just…” Thinking about you. Trying not to fucking obsess like an idiot... I glanced down at the pad and sighed, trying to ignore what was glaring me in the face. “Sketching.”

Edward's voice went up a little as he spoke, and I couldn't stop myself from grinning. "Really? You sketch?"

"A little...not very well, but it relaxes me..." I mumbled, “Most of the time, anyway..."

“Hey, man, if I'm bothering you, I can umm...call back another time or something. I didn't realize how late it was. I just got in from dinner and, ahh...” He paused for a moment, and I thought I could hear him take a sip of something before he continued. “…remembered to call you.”

I felt a moment of panic at the thought of him wanting to hang up. I didn't want to stop talking to him. "No! No, it's okay, really..." I ran my fingers nervously through my hair again as I paused to collect my thoughts. "So...did the pictures come out okay?"

"Yeah, they did. They look great. They're actually, ahh...ready.” Another short pause, and then, “So I was wondering if...you might want to get together to look at them soon? Maybe tomorrow?”

"Tomorrow?" I bit my lip as I took a mental tally of my schedule for Friday. “When were you thinking?” If I rearrange a few things, maybe go in early...

“Well, I was sort of thinking maybe we could meet for lunch? And then umm...you could come back over here to look at them?”

Neither of us spoke for a moment. I knew he was waiting for an answer, but I was still trying to mentally shuffle my schedule around. I wanted to make this work, wanted to meet with him again. After a few seconds of silence, Edward began to speak quickly, filling the now pregnant pause with his babbling.

“There are a lot of them, or I'd just bring them to lunch. I mean, I still can, if you want.”

I grinned as I listened to his babbling. Too cute. “No...I can come over...” I paused, letting out a slow breath - my cheeks puffing out a little as I did - as I went over my schedule one more time before giving him my answer. I would definitely need to head in early if I was going to be able to leave at a time even remotely close to lunch time. “Lunch is good, but...can we make it a late one? I'll need to re-arrange my schedule a bit…work and all.”

"Oh, right. Work." Another pause. “Maybe two again?”

I nodded - like an idiot. “Yeah, two'll work.” I smiled lazily as I picked up my pencil again and resumed sketching.

There was another slight pause before Edward came back with the next question. “So what kind of food do you like? There are a lot of places not far from here.”

Chuckling I said, “Whatever you want is good. I'll try just about anything.” I grinned at the double entendre . Let's see what he makes of that.

“There's a little Greek diner a couple of blocks from here. It's called the Grapevine...do you know it? They have fantastic souvlaki.”

I gave another soft chuckle, wishing I could know what he was thinking. “Can't say I do...never tried Greek before...but sure, if you're up for it, we can do that.”

He gave me directions to the restaurant before we both fell silent again.

“So umm…well…”

My hand paused over the pad. Sounds like he's just as reluctant to end the conversation as I am. I cleared my throat, not sure what to say next.

“I guess I’ll see you then?”

I sighed wistfully. “Yeah...see you tomorrow...”

“Alright. Well, umm...good night, Jasper.”

I smiled softly at that, loving the tenderness of his voice as he said good night. My own voice lowered as well. "Good night, Edward.”

As soon as he had hung up, I closed my phone and stared as it lay cradled in my hand. Will I ever be able to have a phone conversation with this guy that isn't fucking awkward all the time? I shook my head, rolling my eyes at myself.

I looked down at the pad again, running my fingers through my hair as I stared at the grand piano that I had drawn from memory. The guy sitting behind it could not be mistaken. It was Edward, playing. I could almost hear the soft notes floating in the air, remembering what he had played before I interrupted him by ringing the bell. I gently traced the figure of Edward I had drawn, my thoughts split between everything that already had happened and what I might expect to have happen tomorrow.

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Chapter 3 ~ Chapter 5