Out of Character

by Annabeth Albert

  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.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Milo

  “I’m still not sure this is a good idea.” I slowed my steps as we approached Jasper’s house. Because Jasper had to work and the weekend bus schedule was so awful, I’d driven, and my heart rate was still elevated from Saturday night traffic. Driving was getting easier, but I doubted I’d ever completely lose my tension over being behind the wheel.

  “I am.” Jasper bumped shoulders with me as we walked up the little path that wound around the house. Handprints of various Quigley kids and pets decorated the stepping-stones, and if I looked hard enough, I could bet that I’d find one of my own. The sunny day when Jasper’s mom had recruited everyone’s help in making the path seemed a million miles away. “Listen. I promise no matter how awkward it gets, we can still go back to my room after and I’ll make suffering through worth it.”

  “It’s a plan.” Some neighbors I didn’t recognize had been in their yard when I’d found a parking spot down the street, and not kissing him hello had been torture. Funny how I could live years and years without kissing and touching, and now a few hours without him had me desperate. Rather than head to the front door, Jasper rounded the house so we’d enter through the mudroom. I knew this place almost as well as the one I’d actually grown up in, and I categorized all the little changes that showed the passage of time—windows with new curtains and not the handmade school art projects that had graced them in the past, newer paint job and storm door, and some unfamiliar garden fixtures.

  “Now smile,” Jasper commanded as he opened the mudroom door. “And be prepared to have to scrub up. Mom’s in serious mother-hen mode after the scare over April earlier in the week.”

  “I get it. I’d be worried too.”

  After hanging up our coats on a crowded rack, Jasper bent to remove his shoes. “Mom? We’re here.”

  “Jasper. You made it.” His mom swept into the cluttered but clean mudroom, catching him up in a big hug before turning to me, smile dimming. “And Milo.”

  “Hey, Mrs. Q.” I offered her a smile I didn’t quite feel, nerves still making my stomach slosh around. But I did remember my manners. “Thanks for having me.”

  “No problem.” Her guarded expression said otherwise. “Leave your shoes here and wash up.”

  Carefully lining up my shoes with his, I followed Jasper’s lead in scrubbing my hands like a surgeon prepping for the operating room.

  “Smells good,” I observed as we made our way into the kitchen where Jasper’s mom was mincing garlic and supervising a number of pots on the stove.

  Jasper’s mom shrugged, not bothering to look my way. “Probably not up to your grandmother’s standards.”

  “Nothing ever was.” It was the truth. She’d been an iron-willed woman with strict, exacting rules, and I’d been rather terrified of her as a kid. It was no wonder my mom had stopped trying to live up to her in-laws’ standards, culinary or otherwise. However, when Jasper’s mom deepened her frown, I softened my tone. “I’m sure it’s great.”

  “Thanks.” She bashed the heck out of the garlic, making me hope I never pissed her off when she had a cleaver nearby.

  “I…” I wanted to apologize, but I wasn’t sure where to start. And would she even believe me? So instead, I squared my shoulders. “Can I help? Set the table?”

  “Ok
ay.” She motioned at a nearby cabinet. “You probably know where everything is.”

  “I’ll help.” Jasper grabbed a stack of plates and handed me cups and flatware. We made fast work of setting the table for five and were finishing up as April came bounding down the stairs, looking chipper as ever.

  “Neptune! You came!”

  “Oof.” I wasn’t expecting either her hug or its strength, but she hugged us both before stepping back. She had Jasper’s habit of bouncing on her feet when excited.

  “Tell me everything about last night. Even the boring parts.”

  “There were a lot of boring parts.” Jasper gave her an indulgent smile. I could see why they were so close, and not simply because they were the last two Quigley kids at home. They had the same mannerisms and even the same sense of humor. “A lot of the rich old guys didn’t even wear costumes.”

  “Losers.” April rolled her eyes.

  “Huh. I hadn’t thought of it that way.” I’d been so caught up in what they had thought of me that it hadn’t occurred to me to judge them in return. As soon as April said it, though, I had to agree that not wearing a costume to a costume ball was slightly rude.

  “If I were rich, I’d have a whole wardrobe of different costumes. Like Kellan but even more so. Like, what’s the point of money if you don’t have fun occasionally?” Beaming, April took a seat at the table.

  “True.” I sat next to her, both to keep talking and because it seemed safer somehow than sitting with Jasper, all but waving a sign that we were a couple now. Which wasn’t untrue, but it would be nice if Jasper’s mom at least tolerated me somewhat before she figured that out.

  “If you won the lottery, what would you do?” Leaning forward, April talked with her whole body, exactly how Jasper got when excited.

  “Uh…” Guys like me didn’t get lucky like that, but I didn’t want to spoil her fun. I closed my eyes briefly, trying to visualize. “Get my mom a better place. Repay Bruno for…some stuff. Move to an apartment on my own, no more roommates. Maybe…look at taking some art classes.”

  “Those aren’t bad wishes.” Jasper’s mom sounded slightly less irritated as she set a steaming platter of broccoli on the table. Jasper sprang up to help her with the rest of the food while April bellowed for their dad.

  “Something smells delicious.” Wearing an old T-shirt advertising a basketball team that no longer existed, Mr. Quigley ambled into the dining room. Like Jasper’s mom, he had a cool nod for me. “Milo. Good you could join us.”

  “Thanks for having me.” I tried to do better at turning on the charm, especially when we started passing the food around, but nothing seemed to clear away the awkward energy at the table. Jasper and I told April all about the ball, and all my people-watching paid off in the amount of detail I was able to recall. Meanwhile, Jasper shared the latest gossip from his friend group. But his parents stayed largely silent, and I could sense entire conversations happening with their eyes, almost certainly about me and my presence at the table.

  His dad had a few polite questions about my job, but I tried to steer the topic back to the ball because I didn’t want to get into my current living situation. Luther and James were likely even bigger villains than me in this house, which was yet another reason why I needed that group-house interview next week to go well. How could I prove to anyone that I’d changed if I didn’t ditch the friend circle at the heart of so much of the past I regretted?

  Finally, the eating part was done, and while the food truly had been delicious, I was already counting down to our departure. But then Jasper’s mom brought out a platter of cookies. “Who wants dessert?”

  “Oatmeal raisin? I remember how awesome these always were,” I said as I passed the platter.

  “I thought you might like them.” Jasper’s mom rubbed her eyes, like the dinner was every bit as exhausting for her as it was for me. But she’d remembered. And maybe that meant she wouldn’t hate me forever.

  April took two cookies even as she groaned. “What I really want is a game. Please, guys?”

  Jasper glanced my direction. I nodded because even if I were uncomfortable, no way could I say no to that face. “Sure. But we should help your mom with the dishes first.”

  “You and I can handle that while April gets her cards.”

  “Let Jasper shuffle for you,” their mom warned as April headed for the stairs. “Last thing you need is another paper cut from a card sleeve.”

  “Mom. I’m fine. Seriously.” April put her hands on her slim hips. She was so delicate. I understood why the family was so protective of her, but I also could see how she chafed under all the concern. It reminded me of when I’d had to stay with my mom after the accident, how narrow the line was between caring and smothering.

  “I just worry.” Jasper’s mom handed him her plate and fork as we cleared the table.

  “You need that on a T-shirt.” Jasper kissed her on the top of her head. “Thanks for the food. It was great.”

  “You and Milo can divide the leftovers. We’ve got enough stuff already in our freezer.”

  “Thank you.” I offered her another smile, and this time she didn’t frown. Baby steps. Like Jasper said. Maybe I only needed to be patient. Carrying dirty dishes, I followed Jasper to the kitchen.

  “See? That wasn’t so bad.”

  “It wasn’t terrible,” I allowed in a low whisper as we tackled the dish mountain. Same as in middle school, we fell into an easy rhythm where he washed and I dried and put away. “But the lasagna noodles were easier to slice into than that tension.”

  That got a deep laugh from Jasper. “Could have been worse. And I could sense Mom coming around. People want to give you a chance, Milo. You only have to keep giving them reasons.”

  “Wish I had your faith.” I wanted to kiss him so badly, but Jasper’s parents were still at the table and we weren’t nearly hidden well enough for that. I was debating whether I could at least get away with touching his arm when my pocket buzzed.

  Reflexively, I pulled out my phone. And immediately regretted it as I read the message, my back tightening. “It’s my mom. She’s talked to Bruno. He should be back stateside and able to visit in two weeks.”

  “That’s great, right?” Jasper glanced up from loading the dishwasher, leaving the pots for the handwashing.

  “It’s not the worst.” Anytime Bruno was out of danger or at least in less danger was good news. “But two weeks…it’s not enough time. We’ve still got two cards to go.”

  “Have you thought about coming clean to him?” Jasper handed me a pot to dry.

  “No.” My tone was a bit harsh, and I wasn’t surprised when Jasper’s face drooped. Clearly, he’d wanted a different answer, but I wasn’t sure I had one to offer him. “I mean, I want him to see all the things I’m trying to change—staying sober, looking into art classes, ditching my loser roommates, getting you back as a friend—and I want him to be proud of me for once. Not hate me.”

  “I don’t think he’d hate you.” Jasper met my gaze, eyes warming me through as much as if he’d been able to touch me. The way he cared for me and wasn’t afraid to show it was perhaps the most inspiring thing I’d ever seen. And I wished I had even half his optimism. Instead, all I had was a roiling gut and a lot of old memories that said otherwise.

  “Don’t be so sure. He’s a good guy, but he holds grudges. He wrote down for me exactly how much he had to spend on me so that I could repay him over time. And don’t you remember that time I crashed his bike in fifth grade? He didn’t speak to me for almost a month. And that was a bike!”

  “And you were kids back then,” Jasper said reasonably as he wiped down a counter.

  “Exactly. And now I’m an adult and supposed to not be a dumbass anymore.”

  “I get that.” Body tensing, Jasper paused for a long moment, mouth opening and shutting a few times. “It’s just…�
��

  “Yeah?”

  “I get wanting to show him that you’ve changed. But I also think he’s not your dad and you’re not fourteen anymore.”

  Ah. I got it now. Jasper was afraid that I wasn’t ever going to tell Bruno about the two of us. And while I was worried about that—okay, terrified—I’d also promised Jasper that I wasn’t going to hide forever. I hadn’t gotten as far as coming up with a plan for telling Mom or Bruno, but to me, that was a separate deal. “This isn’t about coming out.”

  “Okay.” Jasper didn’t sound like he believed me. “I’m only trying to say that if it was, you’ve got friends now. You’ve got me. I’m not going anywhere, even if Bruno gets mad at you.”

  “Thanks.” A quick glance at the dining room revealed that Jasper’s parents had finally left the table. Thank God, because no way could I not kiss Jasper after a declaration like that. He truly was the best of guys. I brushed a soft kiss across his very surprised lips, loving the way his mouth curved into a smile even as we kissed.

  “I still want to find those cards though.” For whatever reason, I just couldn’t seem to let it drop. And maybe Jasper was right and coming out was somehow wrapped up in all of this in ways I didn’t particularly want to consider, but regardless, I wanted to make this one thing right.

  “Then that’s what we’ll do.” Jasper nodded like the universe would simply have to bend to his mighty will.

  “You’re incredible.”

  “I try.” Jasper’s shrug was so much like his mom’s that it was almost eerie. He seemed eons more mature than me in that moment as he patted my arm with a damp hand. “And so do you. I wish you’d give yourself more credit.”

  “I’m trying. But I want to earn it too.” My ribs ached with all that I wanted to get right in my life.

  Jasper didn’t let go of my arm, gazing deep into my eyes like he could see all that yearning churning inside of me. “And that’s admirable. Truly. And I want to help.”

  “Thanks.” I didn’t deserve this guy or his faith in me. He seemed so certain that I could deal with whatever was coming my—our—way, and I wished I shared that attitude, wished my stomach wasn’t churning, wished we had more time. Jasper might believe, but I wasn’t so sure that doom wasn’t lurking right around the corner, waiting for us.