Out of Character by Annabeth Albert

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Jasper

“Hold still.” Milo’s face wrinkled. He was adorable when he concentrated.

“How am I supposed to hold still if I don’t know what you’re doing?” I ignored his request and twisted around to try to see. He was especially adorable like this—naked other than a pair of boxer briefs, sprawled in my desk chair, feet on the bed near where I lay, sketch pad in his hand.

“If you can’t tell…” He waggled a pencil in my direction. It was late, probably past when we should have tried for sleep, but we were both weirdly awake and energized. We’d both made use of my limited hot water after sex, then had a late-night snack, and now it was apparently arts-and-crafts time. Milo had retrieved his sketchbook amid some mumbles about a brainstorm. Which apparently involved me needing to hold still and not touch my postshower hair.

“Funny. Come on, am I at least going to get to see?”

“Maybe.” Milo reached for our half-eaten bag of popcorn and fed me a few kernels. “Here. Maybe this will keep you quiet.”

“This would be a better incentive.” Rising to my knees, I gave him a fast, salty kiss as my body tried its best to convince us both that going again would be a most excellent idea.

Laughing, Milo pulled away and made a show of going back to drawing. “That’s going to end with no drawing and pencils and popcorn in weird places.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute when you’re all strict and serious.” I flopped back on the bed and tried to hold the position at least. It was kind of cool that he wanted to draw me, even if staying still had never been my strong suit.

“Not sure anyone’s ever accused me of being serious.” Milo bit his lip as his pencil flew over the page.

“They don’t know you.” But I did. I’d seen the serious kid who could obsess over minute Lego details for hours, and I’d seen the man now who didn’t smile nearly enough and who thought to fold his toga before losing his virginity because of course he did. He was Milo. And under the whole jock facade, there was a warehouse of seriousness.

“True.” Milo’s smile was faint before his gaze went more distant. “I wish…”

“What?” Anyone who didn’t think Milo could be serious didn’t know his talent for brooding. And being hard on himself.

“Nothing. Just that I wish I’d valued being understood more than being popular and anonymous.”

As if one of the best-looking guys in our year could have ever been anonymous. But I got what Milo was saying—being with the jocks and popular crowd had let him stay hidden, maybe even from himself. “Perhaps you weren’t ready to be seen.”

“Yeah.” Milo exhaled, pencil coming to a halt again, point snapping. “You’re right. And even now, it’s…”

“Scary?” I was still proud of him for dancing with me at the ball, pushing his comfort zone that far.

“Yeah.” He didn’t meet my gaze as he resharpened his pencil.

“But worth it?” I reached out and tilted his face up.

“Oh, yeah.” He leaned in for another kiss. “Especially the fringe benefits.”

“Orgasms make everything better,” I said with authority as I resumed my pose.

“They do.” He was quiet for a few moments as he worked on his drawing, humming along with the song playing on my speakers. “Jasper?”

I had started to drift off a little, but the sound of my name had me lifting my head. “Yeah?”

“Is sex always this good? Like, no matter who you do it with?”

“No. God, no. I wish. But no. This is…well, maybe not rare, but the exception, not the rule. And special. It’s different with each person, but with you…yeah, special.” I was babbling, trying not to reveal how much better this was than anything that had come before it for me and how much of that had to do with the almost terrifying intensity of my feelings for him.

“I’m glad.” He gave me a warm smile before turning more thoughtful. “It…uh…hasn’t always been good for you?”

I gave a harsh laugh. He was too perceptive as always. “Sex is weird. Like, when it’s good, it’s spectacular. And when it’s bad…well, it sucks. And not in the fun way. I think almost everyone ends up having bad sex at some point in college. Probably a rite of passage.”

I was aiming for a worldly tone, but judging by Milo’s deep frown, I didn’t quite hit the mark.

“Doesn’t matter if it happens a lot. It still sucks. And I hate that it happened to you.” Milo reached out and rubbed my leg.

“You’re sweet. And it wasn’t that bad.” I made a vague gesture, like that alone could tell my memories to go take a hike.

Milo went back to the drawing, but the past lingered in the room, a weird unspoken tension, until finally he gently said, “Want to tell me about it?”

And surprisingly, I sort of did. I didn’t like talking about unpleasant things—being the fun, upbeat guy everyone needed was way easier, but maybe Milo’s seriousness was rubbing off on me.

“Well, before I figured out that I like having regular boyfriends more than hookups, I did have a few hookups freshman year that made me feel like crap. Good lesson.”

Milo frowned. “I’d like to teach the other people a lesson, all right.”

“You’re cute jealous. But put your inner caveman away. I’m just saying it’s way better with someone you…care about.”

“I’m sure.” Rubbing my leg again, Milo gave me a tender look that made me shiver with all the things we very carefully were not saying.

Milo’s tenderness gave me the courage to keep going. “And sober. You’re not the only one who’s got regrets in that respect. I was a little drunk the first time I bottomed, and so was the other guy. It was fast and rather uncomfortable and then I never saw him again.”

“He hurt you.” Growling, Milo totally looked ready to do battle on my behalf.

“Not that way, not really.” Actually, the physical discomfort had been not insignificant, but I didn’t need Milo any more indignant. Also, the lack of prep and advance conversations paled in comparison to my embarrassment later. “Oh well. Live and learn.”

“Yeah, but sometimes learning a lesson sucks, and it’s okay to be mad, especially at jerks.”

I had a feeling we weren’t still talking about my bad sexual experiences. And sure, I’d been mad at Milo back then. Furious, really. But I also didn’t like what being angry turned me into. And I’d also found that more and more what I truly needed was Milo to forgive himself. “I don’t really do mad. Moving on is more productive anyway.”

“You’re almost too mature for your own good.” He shook his head and I laughed because mature and me were not often used in the same sentence. “Get mad at that dude. Heck, I’m mad on your behalf. Your first time should have been way better.”

“Not everything can be fairy-tale perfect.”

“Mine was.” Milo leaned in for a soft kiss that melted all my muscles. “Everything about tonight. That’s why I’m not sleepy. I don’t want it to end.”

“I’m glad. I wanted that for you.” If anything, having a less-than-great first time had made me super determined to make it good for Milo, and knowing I’d succeeded made my whole body warm in a way that had little to do with arousal.

“I want that for you too. I want you to have…everything.”

His tender look was almost too much for me, and I gave a shaky laugh. “I’d settle for a peek at your drawing.”

“Okay.” He nodded like he knew that I’d reached my breaking point for heavy, emotional talk before passing over his sketchbook. “It’s not done…”

Mr. Humble as always had undersold his talent. It wasn’t simply me on a bed like I’d expected. No, he’d given me some sort of Victorian fainting couch, something that the frog magician would approve of, and the pieces of my costume were strewn about me.

“Oh, Milo. This is…incredible. Sexy. Perfect.” It was. He’d captured my likeness down to the freckles on my shoulders. My very bare likeness. My cheeks heated even as my heart tried to clamber its way out of my chest. “Like, I’m never letting anyone else see it, but I love it.”

“I’m glad you like it.” Ducking his head, Milo reclaimed the sketchbook, but I wasn’t going to let him get away with being bashful. I crawled into his lap on the chair, which probably wasn’t designed to hold both of us but oh well. If it broke, it would be more than worth this moment, his lips on mine, his hands skimming over my body. The kiss went on and on, and him holding me close like this was everything I’d ever wanted.

Buzz. My phone rudely vibrated right in the middle of a decent song and our spectacular kiss.

“That’s my mom’s tone. I need to check it, make sure nothing’s wrong.”

“I felt bad for April tonight. I know she wanted to come.”

“Me too,” I said as I grabbed for the phone and scrolled to my messages. “And yup, that’s what this is about. Mom’s up late because she’s stressed. She wants me to come to dinner after work tomorrow so I can tell April all about the ball, maybe cheer her up with some company.”

“That’s a good plan.” Milo absently stroked my sides like I was a lap cat, and I stretched into the attention.

“You should come.”

“To dinner at your mom’s house?” Hands stilling, he sounded like I’d proposed a public execution.

“You don’t have to sound so horrified. You’ve eaten there before.” I turned so I could see his face better.

“Yeah, but that was back when they liked me.”

“They can like you again.” Just like me. The unspoken words hung between us. But honestly, if I’d found my way to liking Milo again, so could anyone else. “Give them a chance. If they can see you’ve changed—”

“Feels like it might never be enough.” Sighing heavily, Milo held me tighter. “And like, I get it. If I were a parent, I wouldn’t like me either. I was a jerk. They’re entitled to their grudge.”

“Maybe, but they can get over it. Like I said, mad isn’t productive. They—and you—need to move on.” I needed Milo to believe in his own changes even more than I needed my parents to. They could get over their anger because I’d seen it before, but I wasn’t as sure about Milo, who seemed determined to flog himself for all of eternity for past mistakes.

“I get that.” His mouth twisted. “Dinner still feels…”

“Scary? I’m not saying we waltz in there holding hands. I meant it when I said I wouldn’t out you. You can come as a friend. Which you are. And if you’re a friend who’s planning to stick around—”

“I am.” On this point he was firm, and he punctuated the words with a kiss on my forehead.

“Good. And so, if you’re going to be part of my life, they need to get used to that. April already likes you. Mom’s making lasagna, which probably isn’t going to be up to Italian grandma standards, but it is still awesome. Let me text her back that you’re coming too? I’ll just say that you and I already had plans to hang out, but that I’m bringing you to dinner first. Easy.”

“Not sure I buy ‘easy.’ But, okay. This means something to you, so I’ll come. But I don’t think this is gonna be that simple.”

“It might be.” I squirmed on his lap, almost toppling us before I gave him what I hoped was a reassuring kiss. And he returned the kiss, but his tension remained.

“I hope you’re right.”

I hoped that too. I needed my family to see this Milo, the changed guy, the one who was funny and tender and an amazing artist. The one who had spent years hiding, but who might finally be ready to poke his head out into the larger world. I clung to the memory of dancing with him at the ball, the look in his eyes, the gentleness of his hands. He cared, and what I needed most of all was him to get out of his own way. I wasn’t sure whether all my conviction would be enough to make it happen, but I was sure as heck going to try.