Page 32 of Crossroads
I don’t know why Jasper’s clear discomfort when we ran into his former coaches bothers me so much.
I was content to pretend like nothing happened, but then seeing him so clearly freaked out—like they could read our minds about what happened—just pissed me off.
He’s ashamed of me?
Really? As far as I’m concerned, I’m the one who was slumming it.
And okay—that’s not true. But I’m angry. He tried to pretend I wasn’t anyone. Like he wanted me to disappear.
It’s not logical to be upset, but I am.
Nothing about whatever this is with Jasper has been logical.
We just passed through Kensley and are on a gravel road near my aunt and uncle’s, and I can’t take it anymore. The steer John wanted is in the back, but I don’t even think about it when I jerk the wheel to the side, coaxing Jasper to pull over.
He quickly gains control of the truck, cursing and then pulling over to the side of the gravel road like I wanted. “What the fuck is your problem? Are you trying to get us killed?”
I roll my eyes at his dramatics. We were only going about thirty miles per hour, and no one else is on this road. “Get over it.”
“Get over it? You could have wrecked us,” he says, his steely green eyes locked on mine, his chest puffing in and out with rage.
I’ll take rage over shame any day.
“Not over that.” I glare at him. “Over what happened between us last night.”
He bristles, and I see a flush come over his neck and go up to his ears. “Nothing happened.”
I snort, my hand absently running over the very slight—yet still very there—bruises on my neck from the way his hand grasped me while we came. His eyes move down to where my fingers are brushing over the bruises, and I watch his pupils blow and him swallow tightly.
“Right. Nothing,” I mock him, and his eyes snap up to mine.
“You couldn’t have covered that shit? Was that there this morning?”
“You mean when we ran into your coaches? Yeah, it was there. I don’t think they noticed though.”
I don’t think anyone would notice unless they’re looking really closely, like he is now. Like I was this morning when I looked into the mirror after brushing my teeth. The evidence of our actions the night before making my dick so hard I had to jack off before we left to get some semblance of relief.
He looks like he’s going to be sick, and I almost feel bad for him. Almost. But not quite. So what if we hooked up?
Yeah, I was a little shell-shocked from it last night, afraid of how he was going to react, but now that I’ve had time to reflect, it’s not that big of a deal. He’s hot. There’s no denying that.
The guy is sexy. In a brooding—might punch me in the face, farm-boy sort of way. But what we did last night wasn’t wrong, and it’s pissing me off that he clearly disagrees.
“It happened,” I say, my eyes locked on his. “It doesn’t make you less of a man.”
“I know that,” he snaps, but I’m not so sure he does. Who knows what growing up in Kensley has done to his head? I was shocked to find out he had gay football coaches, I’m not going to lie. But I would think that should make it easier for Jasper.
To see two pillars of the community out and proud. Married and settled. Buying a donkey together, for Christ’s sake. But if anything, it only seemed to rattle him more.
“I’m going to drive us to the farm, and you’re going to keep your fucking hands off my steering wheel, you hear me?” His nostrils flare, and I see the threat in his eyes. “Drop it.”
“Fine,” I say because what else can I do? He wants to pretend it didn’t happen? Fucking fine.
I’ll deal.
He drives us the rest of the way to the farm, and he’s out of the driver’s seat as soon as he puts it in park. I think he’s going to dart into the barn and far away from me, but we’re immediately joined by Kelly and her bright, shiny smile.
“Boys! You made it,” she says, embracing us both in hugs. I can’t really hide my neck from her, but her eyes aren’t on me. And I’m relieved, not because I’m ashamed or because I think she’ll be upset, but because I don’t feel like explaining it to her. And well... my aunt is nosey. Not in a malicious or unkind way, but in a way she would want to help. She’s a fixer, my aunt. That’s for damn sure.
