Page 58 of Loverboy

Jasper stood up from the armchair, peering at my half-finished mug before taking his own empty one to the kitchen. The soft clinking of dinnerware in the sink was like an alarm clock, reminding me that I’d be alone again soon.

What he’d done with Oliver had already begun to feel like a distant memory, my brain too well-practiced at blocking things out, already in damage control mode. I needed to fix things, to smooth things out until he forgot all about the way I lost my mind and nearly beat my best friend to death.

Anything to keep Jasper from abandoning me.

“I’m going to take a shower and then head out.” He ran his fingers through his hair, taking one assessing glance around the living room.

“I’ll be good, I promise.” I rose to my feet, too anxious to sit still any longer.

“No drinking an entire bottle of alcohol to yourself while I’m gone.” He pointed at me in accusation. “And no dating apps. Cut that shit out.”

“I don’t know, that sounds like a lot of expectations,” I said sarcastically. “What do you want me to do, stare at the ceiling all night?”

“You said you want to do something for me, right? Why don’t you unpack some of my boxes?” he suggested, gesturing to the corner of the living room that had piles of boxes stacked at least four feet high.

“Fine.” I groaned, throwing my hands up. “I guess I can handle that.”

“I’ll be back before you know it,” he promised, the familiar crease of his brows smoothing out into something softer.

He moved closer, and I flinched as he reached out and gave my head a routine pat, his fingers then running through my hair and giving it that same old signature ruffle. The once-harmless touch made my heart race and my skin burn.

Something was different. Something had changed.

“Cut it out.” I panicked and swatted at his forearm.

His hand dropped instantly, and the sudden absence of heat left me aching. I didn’t mean to reject him, but the way my brain fired off signals in every direction at once scared the shit out of me.

“If you need anything,” he started and then paused, his jaw clenched tight.

“Oh my God, I know,” I whined.

I was mad that he’d listened and respected my space.

I wanted him to push, to insist, to force his affections upon me until I couldn’t refuse. It was the only way to be certain that he wasn’t going anywhere, and anything less left room for doubt. I knew the very way I tried to keep people close simultaneously pushed them away, but I didn’t know how to be different.

I didn’t know how to change.

26

Milo

YOU’D THINK THAT there wouldn’t be much to organizing books and putting them on shelves, but I was vibrating with anxiety. It was like I was trying to defuse a bomb in the fucking living room, terrified that I might mistakenly crease a page or bend a spine. Jasper was passionate about his books. I needed to take good care of them.

I crouched in front of one of the many boxes I’d surrounded myself with, opening it up and staring at the neatly packed rows. Hesitantly, I ran my fingers over the spines before gingerly taking one out.

“Machi… fuck, whatever. Some dead guy with way too many vowels in his name.” I flipped it over, squinting at the cover—The Prince. It sounded like a children’s bedtime story, which was fitting, since reading it would probably put me to sleep.

My brother’s interests were nerdy enough that I couldn’t tell which books were for coursework and which ones were for leisure, but something told me titles like this one and Plato’s Republic landed squarely in the middle. Flipping through the pages didn’t help me understand any better. The use of language was ancient, and after a few sentences, my vision began to blur. I couldn’t keep my attention on the words long enough for them to make any fucking sense.

I chewed my lip, looking between two books I’d picked up and the shelf, trying to remember the way Jasper sorted them back at Mom’s. I wondered if he sorted them at all, given the way his room was always littered with stacks of books on every available surface.

I glanced at my phone lying on the floor. Sorting the books by author would have to do, because I didn’t want to inconvenience Jasper by texting him only a few hours into his shift.

I managed to fill two rows of shelves before getting distracted, opening even more boxes in hopes of finding something a little less boring. There were a few knick-knacks nestled in between some of the books, one of which was a pink dragon head sculpture carved out of some fancy rock.

I couldn’t help but smile as I found a place for it on the shelf. Every addition brought me closer to home. It was like taking back pieces of a time I’d lost, one I’d let slip through my fingers in the haze of a new relationship.

The next thing I pulled out was a picture frame. Upon flipping it over, I discovered it was a candid shot of my brothers. In the photo, Jasper’s head was resting on Blane’s shoulder, the two of them sharing a genuine moment of laughter. My lips twitched, but I worked to keep the smile on my face as though someone might see me and know how I really felt.