We Could Be Dreamers

5

As it turns out, Sam was not exaggerating. 

Hot Jason is indeed hot. 

It could just be that I was expecting him to be hot, since Sam put the idea in my brain. She said he'd be hot, so I've met him and now I think he's hot. 

He catches my eye, laughing at something Brooke says. 

Okay, so Sam had nothing to do with it and he's absolutely hot.

Maybe he's one of those people whose hotness just kind of transcends gender. Like, he's so inarguably hot that I can be completely heterosexual and still find him extremely hot. That's just how hot he is. 

Brooke's bedroom is mostly taken up by her bed, with a vanity against one wall and a desk against the other. Because there's not much space left, the three of us are sprawled across the bed. Brooke is slumped against Jason. Her dark brown curls spill over his shoulder. Jason is sprawled out comfortably, all slender muscle and tone and long, lean limbs. I'm sitting cross-legged on the very edge, feeling extremely out of place. 

"So you just need to analyze stuff for this portion, right?" Jason asks, looking at me, and I'm feeling oddly jittery as his light brown gaze meets mine. 

"I, um, uh, yeah, I think so," I reply, articulate as always. Being in the same room as Brooke must really be getting to me. 

"Analyzing is just taking your opinion and making it sound fancy," Jason says, reaching forwards and grabbing one of the papers. 

The pad of his thumb grazes my knee just a bit as he takes the paper, and even though there's a layer of denim between us, I swear to god I feel a jolt of electricity. 

"Yeah," he says, skimming over the paper. "This part's easy. What did you guys need me for?"

We didn't need you! I want to say. Brooke and I would've been just fine. But I don't say that, because that would be kind of a terrible thing to say. 

"It's complicated," Brooke mumbles, pulling away from him and snatching away the paper. 

Jason's lips quirk into a smile and he looks at me again. "Okay, I can kind of see why you guys need me," he says with a light laugh. 

"I'm gifted in other ways," Brooke shrugs, opening a highlighter and highlighting a couple chunks of text. 

"Um, I found a couple essays we could look at," I say quietly, pulling my laptop out of my bag and cracking it open. I open up one of the tabs and turn the laptop so it's facing them. 

Brooke raises an eyebrow as she scrolls through the first essay, and she looks kind of incredibly beautiful in the laptop's faint glow. "'Death of the Moth?'" She asks, reading the title out loud. 

Jason grins, peering over her shoulder. "Dude, you do not fuck around," he says. 

"Um, yeah," I say self-consciously. "I dunno. I thought it was interesting..." I trail off. 

"It is," Brooke says, eyes wide. "If we can figure out how to write a good analysis on this thing..."

"The analysis is the easy part," Jason repeats. "It's pinning down the craft moves and being able to write something similar that's the challenge."

"Sounds like fun," I mutter. "So, do you wanna see the other ones, or...?"

"'He was little or nothing but life,'" Brooke reads, and her voice was smooth and lyrical and perfect. "This is the one, I think." 

"Really?" I smile a little, avoiding Brooke and Jason's gazes. "Alright! Perfect." 

Brooke nods, pulling out her tablet and starting to type something. 

And we get to work.