The Gay Gatsby

Chapter 21: Did I Jasper Your Opinion?

Content Warnings: Mentions of suicide.

Author's note: I am so sorry for ending the last chapter like that and for the late update. Hopefully I didn't leave you guys in too much anticipation.

I'm really not happy with this chapter, like I kind of hate it - I worked on it all day so you guys wouldn't have to wait any longer. Here it is - hope you enjoy!

Chapter 21: Did I Jasper Your Opinion?

"No amount of fire or freshness can challenge what a man will store up in his ghostly heart."

- F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

Chance

His lips were warm and supple against mine. His mouth tasted vaguely of coffee (a fact I would cherish forever) and his sweater was soft beneath my fingertips.

For a few moments, he just sat, stunned, as I embraced him.

But after a few seconds, I could feel a deft pressure on my lips as he kissed back.

And it was heavenly.

Blood rushed in my ears as my head spun with dizziness. My hand pushed lightly against where I had placed it on the smaller boy's waist. Callaway responded with ease, his own hand raising up to caress my neck. His palm was warm and steady against my skin. At his gesture of enthusiasm, I used my unoccupied hand to tug him into my lap, an act proving easy due to his small frame. The closer proximity did nothing to aid my pulsating heart as it thumped wildly in my chest.

My mind was barren of any other thought except for: Callaway.

That is, until he pulled away.

Soft lips abandoned me as he pulled his weight off of my lap. The loss of warmth from his body was immediately noticeable.

I sat in shock of what had happened, staring, eyes lidded as my breath came out in huffs. I could barely focus on my surroundings, getting lost within the folds of my thoughts; attempting to find means of conserving the memory. I was certain it would never happen again, so I wanted to remember it with perfect accuracy.

My eyes could do little more than stay fixed on the flushed face of the boy I adored. My gaze trailed across the pale skin of his face with admiration. As I observed, I took into consideration the slight pink dusting his cheeks, giving away his otherwise unaffected look.

"That's an odd way to deal with loss."

The remark startled me out of my stupor. My gaze narrowed on Callaway's eyes as I tried to comprehend what he said.

Still out of it, I slurred, "Loss?"

Callaway looked at me, face stricken with alarm.

I watched him with what little consciousness I had as he muttered, "Yes, loss." At my discernibly blank look, Callaway clarified, "Your mother, Chance."

Even in my post-kiss haze, the words spiked incredulity within me, getting all my attention.

"My - my mom?" I gasped, trying to regain my thoughts. "Who told you about that?"

I received an absent look from the boy still only a mere inches from me. "I already disclosed that - Aly told me."

I gaped at him, totally disoriented as I proclaimed, "But that was a long time ago, Callaway." My eyes bore into his with an utter ferocity. "I was three."