Jasper had invited Carson to the Spring Bash mostly as a joke. He really should’ve stopped being so surprised when the man followed through, showed him care and consideration. He hadn’t even told him he’d think about it, merely said yes like the answer was obvious. And ah, shit, it was those sort of things that really got to him. He was so used to being an option, but never a priority, that when Carson made him one so naturally, it caught him off guard.
He was nervous. He had no reason to be, really, they’d already confirmed what they were, that Carson would be responsible for him, that he’d take care of him. But still, his stomach felt like it was filled with a thousand little fluttering butterflies, some of which got caught in his throat.
He sort of wanted to puke. That, he knew, was just nerves. Because, while they’d had several lunches together, this was their official outing together where’d it was likely they’d run into people they knew. Carson was a Vance. He was a staple in the community.
And Jasper was.... well. Jasper was a nobody, really. Just some lucky idiot who’d happened to be enough of Carson’s type he wanted to keep him. Or something.
He inhaled deeply, smoothed out his shirt, and then checked his phone anxiously, waiting for Carson to arrive. They’d promised to meet on the southside of Main Street. Had he been held up? He knew the Nightingale was serving free first rounds later that night -- was it selfish of him to pull Carson away from his work?
Jasper fixed his collar, nervous, but continued waiting, hating how he somehow felt like an overeager puppy with separation anxiety.
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