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The moment Mr. Sawyer parks his car, he dismisses Jackson from the rest of the day's work. His face shines pale against the dark leather interior. Jackson wants to look away but he can't.

Mr. Sawyer tenses when he shuts the ignition off, but he does not leave. Instead, he passes a hand along his jaw and shuts his eyes.

"You can't..." His voice is hoarse.

"I won't." Jackson hates that Mr. Sawyer doesn't trust him.

"My company—"

"Is safe," Jackson interrupts. "I won't tell anyone."

"Not even—"

"No one. Why don't you trust me?"

"This wasn't what I wanted." It's like Mr. Sawyer can't hear what he's saying.

"If you didn't want to kiss me why did you?"

Mr. Sawyer's lips press together in a line. "You were..."

"Don't put this on me." Each word seems to pierce Mr. Sawyer to his core. He flinches and Jackson feels bad for sounding so harsh. "Don't freak out. This...incident will stay between us."

At the word us, Jackson blushes, his voice going softer. He swears Mr. Sawyer pales even more. After a few seconds of silence, the car lights automatically dim, and only then does Mr. Sawyer get out of the car.

☆★☆

Jackson will never learn Calculus at this point. Not when Eliot stares dazedly at him, leaning against the library column of texts from Ancient Greece, his mouth parted as Jackson's fingers inch up behind his pastel blue button down.

It's all Eliot's fault, Jackson thinks, leaning in and kissing those angel lips. But that's not true, it only sounds tragically sinful. It's actually all Mr. Sawyer's fault. But that's also not true, just a way to play the victim.

It's Jackson's fault, really, but when Eliot tenderly, gently, exploringly kisses the underside of his jaw, he decides he'll take the blame. It's not like they're having sex in the school library. They just kiss. And touch. This is for Eliot to find himself in the corner of Jackson's mouth, which he loves to gently trace with his fingertip before kissing softly, the wings of a butterfly briefly resting.

Eliot always looks painfully innocent when he does the most devious things, and it sends Jackson into a tailspin. Right when Jackson thinks Eliot is melting under his lips, he will feel Eliot shift just enough so his knee presses flushed between Jackson's legs, and it takes everything in him not to fuck him right there.

After all, Jackson knows the Ancient Greeks wouldn't mind.

He doesn't, of course. Maybe he's punishing himself, or protecting Eliot. Maybe he wants to take revenge on Caleb. Or Robin. Maybe kissing Eliot in the back of a library reminds him of other times more innocent, more simple. If he fucks Eliot he'll be destroying the fantasy.

Regardless, he leaves Eliot when their tutoring session comes to an end, adjusting his pants, kissing him on his cheek, which has bloomed a delightful pink shade. His rose-colored boy, Jackson muses.

But the whole passing is just a distraction, and it goes as quickly as it comes.

☆★☆

After a practice with Caleb ignoring him the entire time, Jackson returns to his room, tired and wanting to sleep his worries away.

Hunter calls, but Jackson doesn't answer. It's probably about Saturday night, and he doesn't feel like apologizing for anything. He texts after calling another time.

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