Out of Character by Annabeth Albert

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Jasper

“Oh, good. You’re here.” Professor Tuttle was laughing, expression sly as he opened his door. “What we need is a heist.”

As the professor moved aside so we could enter, Milo leaned in close, whispering, “When I said assemble the team, I didn’t mean criminal masterminds. We can’t let the old guys get arrested on my behalf.”

“They won’t.” Of that I was pretty sure, and I sneaked a quick pat on his back as we shed our coats. He was still a little jumpy after our late-night soul-baring conversation. Professor Tuttle being apparently ready for grand larceny was not helping matters.

“A heist?” I asked louder.

“A cookie heist.” Professor Herrera came into the hall, drying his hands on a dish towel. “They’re cooling. And none until after your game and after the snack I’m making.”

“Darn.” Professor Tuttle gave him such a fond look that my stomach cramped from the sweetness. Maybe someday. Despite the lack of sleep, Milo and I had lain awake, talking more until the sun was teasing the sky, and then we’d finally drifted off for a couple of hours. Waking up with him was fast becoming my favorite thing on earth.

“And Milo! Exactly the nongamer I was hoping to see!” Professor Herrera clapped Milo on the back. “Want to learn some new knife skills? I’m making a new sheet-pan nachos recipe with my homemade salsa.”

“Uh. Okay. Thanks.” Milo blinked, clearly not expecting this welcome.

“I want to hear all about this group-house situation Jasper mentioned to me too,” the professor added as he led a befuddled Milo toward the kitchen.

“They’ll be all right,” Professor Tuttle assured me as we headed to the dining room table. Apparently not needed for the revue that night, Kellan was already there, fiddling with the cameras.

“No Jasmine?” I asked as I set my stuff down.

Kellan made a sad face. “She had a paper to write. Not everyone has the cupcake of a last semester schedule like you.”

“By design.” I pulled out a deck and started shuffling while waiting for Professor Tuttle to get situated. “I front-loaded my year because I knew I’d be ready to be done.”

“Done?” Kellan shot me a skeptical look. “Thought you were the one who wasn’t ready to graduate and move on.”

“That was before…” My voice trailed off because so much had happened in only a few weeks. Milo. The cards. New certainty about what I wanted. “Yeah. I am ready. Bring on whatever’s next.”

“Absolutely agree. I’ve got two interviews for summer-stock costuming positions.”

“Seriously? That’s awesome.” I was going to miss my friends, no question. And I’d miss my family if I moved away, even a short distance, but I finally felt ready. Ready for graduation. Ready to see Kellan crushing it with Broadway and Hollywood costumes. Ready to let people move on even as I kept others close. Like Milo. As I set up my play mat, I could see us squashed into a chair together, scrolling social media, seeing where everyone else ended up. The future might still be big and scary, but it was way more hopeful now.

“Now, Jasper.” Across from me, Professor Tuttle slapped a deck down on the table. “I have a new gambit play I want to explain and then have you demonstrate defending against.”

The professor’s move was truly devious, and I couldn’t decide which I liked better: the play itself, which involved discarding an entire hand, or defending against it, which took a certain deftness.

“Aha!” I crowed as I finally mastered the timing for getting my block ready. “I see your plan and not today! Countered!”

“Excellent, Jasper,” Professor Tuttle cheered.

“Oh, this would be perfect against cheaters like George,” Kellan observed as he gave the signal that we were off-camera again.

Right then, Milo came to the doorway, his speculative expression revealing that he’d probably heard George’s name. I tried not to feel a pang of regret that I wouldn’t get to play hero for him, swoop in and restore Milo’s cards, and crush George in the process.

“Food’s ready.”

“Cookies!” Professor Tuttle skipped the nachos to take two cookies while Professor Herrera clucked at him. They were almost too cute. The rest of us made plates of food while Milo proudly explained what was in each component.

“Did you know dicing and mincing are not the same?” Smiling shyly, he handed me a soda.

I blinked at him, adjusting my future vision from earlier to include lots of trips to the grocery store. “I do now.”

“Okay, you two. Tell me about this car of Milo’s and what you’ve found on the internet already.” After putting his reading glasses on, Professor Tuttle pulled out a fancy pen and a little notepad, exactly like this was one of his seminar classes.

Milo explained the whole history of the car, its year and make, and the prerestoration condition. He then launched into everything that had been done to it as well as how he maintained it. It was a lot, and I was staggered by how much Milo had put into the car himself, not simply assisting his dad. I wanted to tug on his sleeve, to ask him if he was absolutely certain he wanted to part with this car, but I’d promised not to talk him out of this. If Milo thought selling was the right call, then I was going to support that, even as I marveled at this side to Milo I hadn’t really seen before.

“So anyway, the heater’s really the only drawback, but it’s functional and a top-of-the-line part. Oh, and it’s clean. I’d detail it again before selling—”

“You could perform surgery in the back seat,” I joked.

“We don’t need to know how you’ve seen the back seat,” Kellan tossed back.

“Gentlemen,” Professor Tuttle gently reminded us that he was still there, taking notes. “I think what you’ve found is accurate as far as asking price. But go up a few thousand. Let the buyer talk you back down. And I agree about asking the collector who’s storing your brother’s car. However, I also know a few collectors myself who won’t haggle with you too much. Can I make some calls?”

I liked how Professor Tuttle asked instead of telling. I was trying to get better at that myself. Milo seemed to like that, too, nodding thoughtfully. “Yeah, I’d appreciate it. I need a fast sale. And not just because Bruno’s coming back. I can’t keep crashing with Jasper in the dorms.”

“Yes, you can.” I’d go to bat with the RA myself before I let Milo sleep in his car or something else drastic.

“I don’t want to get you in trouble.” Milo’s eyes were serious.

“That’s a good point.” Professor Herrera stroked his chin. “I think I might have a temporary solution.”

He and Professor Tuttle did some sort of longtime-couple-communication magic with their eyes before Professor Tuttle pronounced, “Brilliant idea. I concur.”

“We have a spare room—”

Milo held up a hand. “I can’t impose like that on you guys. You’ve been so nice already.”

“Oh, this isn’t me being nice.” Professor Herrera’s eyes sparkled like he was holding a winning card and knew it. “The room is full of boxes. Boxes that I need removed if we’re going to have more guests. And since we moved our room downstairs after Gus’s fall, I’ve had a list of furniture I want rearranged, but I can’t do it on my own. Trust me, I’ll make you earn your keep while you’re visiting.”

“I could do that,” Milo allowed, licking at his lips. The hope in his expression made my chest hurt. I wanted him to have so much more than a safe place for a couple of nights.

“I can help. I’m good at moving stuff.” I patted his biceps. “Maybe not as good as these muscles, but I can help, spare Professor Herrera’s back.”

“But only until I find something more permanent.” Milo remained somber, regarding all of us like this were a treat that might be yanked away. “I don’t want to take advantage.”

“Are you going to assist in eating all the odd recipe experiments Julio dreams up?” Professor Tuttle turned toward Milo, merriment sweeping across his craggy face. “You’re not taking advantage. You’re exactly what we need.”

“Me too,” I added. And he was. He was exactly what I both needed and wanted.

“Dude, I’m not sure whether to ask for a group hug or text Jasmine and tell her about the new epic levels of adorableness reached tonight. Maybe both.” Kellan chuckled as he grabbed another cookie. “And I’ll come help tomorrow with box-o-palooza. We can do an assembly line.”

“Wow. You guys don’t have to help me.” Milo darted his gaze between us, still looking wary, like the offer might evaporate any second.

“We want to,” Kellan and I said in unison.

“Thanks.” Under the table, Milo tapped my foot with his.

“Did you want to stay tonight or did you have…plans?” Professor Herrera raised an eyebrow in my direction as he spoke to Milo.

Milo glanced at me. We weren’t as skilled at the whole wordless conversation yet, so I spoke up. “He has plans.”

“But tomorrow.” Milo had turned a delightful shade of pink at the mere implication of sleeping together. “We can’t expect your RA to ignore us forever.”

“Sounds good.” Professor Herrera led us in cleaning up before Professor Tuttle got too worn out. Milo proved what an awesome house guest he was going to be as he washed the big pots while Kellan and I put stuff away. Meanwhile, the professors worked putting their dining room to rights again.

“I saw George last night backstage at the revue,” Kellan said as we worked. “He was talking smack. Are you gonna put him in his place? I wanna see that.”

“No. Probably not.” I couldn’t keep the regret from my tone, and I very carefully avoided looking at Milo.

“You really want to, don’t you?” Milo asked me softly.

“Yeah. I do. But you asked me not to do that, so I won’t, but man, stomping him would feel so good.”

“And if you lost?” Milo’s mouth was a thin, narrow line.

I shrugged. “At least I would have tried. Even heroes have off days.”

With damp hands, Milo turned me by my shoulders, so we were eye to eye. “You’re already my hero.”

I’d waited maybe my whole life to hear those words, and my jaw dropped open, mouth filling with so many words I wanted to say and—

“Aw, you guys…”

I’d totally forgotten Kellan was still three feet away from us. “Kellan—”

“I’m going. Heading out now. Catch you both tomorrow.” Laughing, Kellan grabbed his coat and ducked out the back door.

“You mean that?” I asked the second the door clicked. “I’m your hero?”

“You are. No matter how this turns out. You saved me from myself, and that makes you a superhero in my book.”

“Wow. I always wanted to be the hero.” I could admit that aloud to him because he knew. He knew the kid I’d been who had wanted the cape and fancy costume and the big, daring rescues. It was part of why I loved being an older brother so much—I got to be April’s hero now and then. And Milo also knew the guy I was now, the one who let that urge to be the hero get the better of him sometimes. Like last night. Milo didn’t need rescuing, and I knew that he needed to do his own saving sometimes. However, all those big realizations didn’t stop me from wanting to swing in with the win anyway.

“You don’t have to win me the cards, but it means a lot that you want to try, even if I hate the idea of you anywhere near that scuzzbucket.”

“I know.” The air went out of my superhero fantasy, cape deflating. I wasn’t going to go behind Milo’s back or risk making him upset, not when we were finally in such a good place together.

“Too bad you can’t do a fake-out.” Milo looked away, studying the refrigerator art which as usual was a collection of tickets to upcoming events, magnets from their travels, and random drawings.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re big on me asking for help. Why not ask Conrad to hook you up with another ticket? Call in a favor. George doesn’t have to know you’ve got the hookup, and then it wouldn’t feel so much like you’re gambling your whole future on me.”

“It would be worth it though. I’d bet everything on you. On us.” I met his gaze, trying to convey how serious I was. I’d risk everything to be with him, and in the grand scheme of things, the ticket to the event was nothing compared to how I felt about him. My future employment could work itself out.

“I know.” Milo nodded slowly. “And I’m still selling the car. Whether you win or not.”

“Of c—Wait. You’re going to let me play him?”

“You don’t need my permission.” Milo made a sour expression. “I don’t want to be that kind of controlling boyfriend—”

“Hey, I’ll take you being a boyfriend, period.”

“Be serious for a sec. You deserve a non-dickhead boyfriend and to make your own choices, same as me. If you want to play George, play him. Like Kellan said, a lot of people would love to see you win.”

“Thanks.” Another thought occurred to me. “Two tickets would mean I could bring you along. If I won.”

Another magical night with Prince Neptune? I was totally in favor of that, but also the scheming side of my brain was already thinking of ways to show off Milo’s art to the right people.

“You’ll win.” He sounded absolutely convinced and I hoped he was right. I didn’t want to let him down, but more important, I didn’t want to let myself down.