jasper had a tendency to forget things like his age and birthday. he didn’t feel a day older than twenty, physical aging aside; the last birthday his parents so much as left him a letter for was his eighteenth. what did a birthday matter when every memory was antithetical to the purpose? alas, he wasn’t bothered with boring people to tears about his birthday blues anymore. maybe he really had changed.
“soft?” he scoffed, leaning down to speak in ear. “i could bend a fucking steel rod over my erection. i’m not soft, alice. i’m cool, just not so red-hot anymore.” dilf suave, hugh grant in eyeliner over here. “i’m not soft, i was just an idiot back then. who throws a tantrum over a dive bar’s sound system?” jasper brown, ages sixteen to twenty-eight. he flashed a charming grin at her, a shrug making the leather over his shoulders squeak. “this is fine. i can’t hear a word you’re saying but it’s fine.”