JASPER

***

Today is my birthday. And Libby has absolutely no fucking idea.

I wake up wrapped in her, which is the best present I could have received, but I feel guilty about not telling her I'm turning twenty two today. I know she hates her birthday, and after arguing over me taking her out for dinner, she did finally give in. It did cross my mind that even though she doesn't like her own birthday, maybe she'll be excited about celebrating mine.

I don't have class until two today, so I stay in bed whilst Libby leaves for her classes. She leaves a cup of coffee on the bedside table for me before kissing me, but I never drink it because I fall asleep, but I love that she's spoiling me.

***

I'm late. So I dash out the door, pulling a shirt over my head as I sprint to my truck. I usually walk but I'll miss class if I do that.

I fell asleep for too long and now I'm fucking late again for class. I'm taking all Literature classes this semester, and the particular class I'm late for is British Classical Literature. We have to read Gaskell, Austen, all the Brontes, Elliot and Mrs Radcliffe, and it's genuinely one of the most interesting classes I've ever taken.

I've loved books and reading since I was a kid, but this is a class I'm enjoying because it's reminding me of that. Benny always used to mock me when he found me sitting outside on our porch with a book, but I've grown to enjoy the afternoons Libby and I spend reading in the apartment. We sit at opposite ends of our bed, her curled up at the end making notes and me stretched out with my head resting against the wall.

"You're late Mr Calhoun. Again." Dr Scott reprimands me in front of the whole class as I try to sneak in and sit in the back row.

"Sorry. Working." I mutter a lied excuse and take out my tattered copy of Elizabeth Gaskell's North and South.

We'd been working on how first impressions can be wrong when meeting a person. In Gaskell's case, she uses her protagonist's first impression of John Thornton being harsh and cruel when she sees him beating a factory worker. But then grows to love him. First impressions are wrong all over the place, and that's what I like about this class. Dr Scott is forcing us to think. Last week we'd had to write an essay about first impressions, and I found the words flowing freely out of me at the memory of first impressions of Benny, Libby and even Ziggy. I don't know if we were supposed to relate it back to ourselves, but I found myself telling those particular stories angway.

I could see the pile of class books on Dr Scott's desk, and I was genuinely concerned for my grade. I needed to do well in all my classes this semester to graduate this year, otherwise I'd fail, and I hadn't told Libby that either. But as the class continued, he started talking about first impressions and what they mean to us. And that's when I realise I think I might be the only one in the class that had got the point of the exercise.

I'm a walking contradiction of a first impression. I come off as harsh and rude, sure, but I don't mean to be. And then no one wants to fucking try with someone who's belligerent and deliberately obtuse like I am. I'd got used to using it as a defence mechanism, and I'd grown to rely on it, sometimes a little too much. Libby had been the only one willing to try and jump over my walls. And now that she's inside them, she's made me into a better, stronger person. And that's more than anyone else has ever done.

"Jasper?" I hear Dr Scott call from the front of the classroom.

"Hmm?" I look up from my book and everyone is staring at me.

"Would you care to shed any light?"

I just shake my head. Everything I wanted to say about first impressions was in my essay, and I don't want to share it any wider than that.

He thankfully just nods his head and moves on to the next person, but when class is over he calls me down to the front once everyone has gone.

"You okay?" He asks.

I furrow my eyebrows. "Yeah. Why?"

He shrugs. He's a young professor, one who can't be too much older thirty five, but he's already one of my favourites after just three weeks.

"Your essay was amazing Jasper. That stuff you wrote about Benny... I thought that was incredibly moving and that it came from the heart."

"That was the assignment... wasn't it?" I scratch the back of my head in embarrassment.

"Well... the assignment was to write about first impressions. But I was thinking it would be about the books. You've got a lot of hurt in you, Jasper. I can see that. And I'd like to help you get that hurt out, and use it, channel it."

I awkwardly shift my backpack on my shoulder. "Channel it how?"

"Into your writing. Jasper, I think you have the potential to go all the way."

"All the way where?"

"To being an author. A writer. Your writing is so raw and personable. You certainly blew me away with something as small as first impressions, so I'm interested to see what you come up with for our other topics. Your essay was the only one I read more than once."

I laugh, shocked at what he's just said.

"Are you kidding? I mean... I know I like books but I... I don't want to be an writer."

It's his turn to laugh slightly. "Well, for someone who doesn't want to be something, you're certainly extremely talented at it."

It was the first time someone had said that. Sure I used to make notes in a journal from time to time, and I'd been writing a bit more since Libby had been around, but I wasn't good enough to be a full blown fucking writer. Plus I wanted to be able to support her, and writers get fucking squat.

"I'm willing to help you." He crosses his arms before smiling, his kind eyes boring into my reticent ones. "If you'll let me."

I sigh. "Do I have a choice?"

He chuckles. "Of course you do. But we can make it extra credit work if you like?" He suggests.

That would certainly help. I'd be doing it for grades, and who knows? Maybe I'll enjoy it. I sigh again, and smile, hiking up my bag. "Fine. Sure, count me in."

"Great. I look forward to it." He pats me on the shoulder. "Keep up the great work, Jasper. Like I said... you'll go far."

"Thanks." I feel my cheeks pink. "And I promise, I won't be late next time."

"You always say that and you always are." He laughs and shakes his head and gestures with his head for me to leave.

"See ya." I hike up my bag and leave the room, shaking my head at whether that really happened.

***

I hit Walmart on my way home, figuring I'd make Libby a nice dinner later, and when I get home she bounces up, happy to see me as always when I come in the door.

She gives me a hand with the other bags and puts them away, not surprised that I'd bought some nicer food to make her favourite chicken parmigiana.

I settle on the bed, pulling her with me, and ask about her day, her Spanish history quiz in particular. I knew she was worried about it. She seems to think it went okay, but I can still tell she's nervous. I'm about to tell her about what Dr Scott had said, about me doing extra credit stuff, when there's a loud bang at our door.

"Don't answer it," she says, and her voice sounds worried.

"Why not?" I half laugh, keeping my voice light. "Might be one of the neighbours?" I had no idea who it could be, but as soon as I open the door I wish I had listened to her.

Ziggy.

"Hey Jasper," he smirks, his voice sounding vaguely threatening.

"What's up Zig?" I ask, my voice as light as possible as I grip the side of the door. I see Libby open the fridge in the corner of my eye, hiding from him maybe, and anger courses through me.

"Nothing. Just haven't seen you around. I went to your house to come find you, but your Mom said you didn't live there."

If Mom's gone and fucking told him where I live I am not going to be happy. I'd specifically asked her not to, but then again I knew how persuasive he could be. And given it's my birthday he probably just said he wanted to see me. I knew better.

"So I asked around, followed your girl, and here I am. How come you didn't tell me?" I was already seeing red before he said anything, but now I was ready to charge at him? He fucking followed her? If he doesn't end up with a broken nose tonight he'll be fucking lucky...

"I shouldn't have to. I moved in with my girlfriend, why the fuck do you care?" I bunch my other fist hard and grit my teeth. "And you fucking followed her? What the fuck?" I practically shout it in his face. I shouldn't be reacting like this because it's feeding his dickish behaviour.

I'm livid, because him finding out I now have my own place means he'll be around more and I don't want Libby getting hurt.

"Chill bro. I didn't really." Somehow I don't believe him. I fucking hate that I don't have classes with her this semester. "Like I said, I asked around. Where is she anyway?" He asks, looking around the room for Libby. She closes the fridge and glares at him. She really doesn't like him. And when I think he's either stalked me or her home, it makes my blood boil.

"Ah there she is. The one that has JJ wrapped around her little finger." He crosses his arms and sticks his tongue in his cheek. "Bitch stole my boy."

I step forward and shove him hard but he catches his hand on the doorframe, unperturbed by the fact I'd tried to send him flying. "Don't talk to her like that. Don't think I won't hit you, Asshole." I did owe him a lot but that wouldn't stop me from knocking him flat if he ever laid a hand on Libby. "Watch it."

He sniggers. He's obviously got something down, whether for my birthday or something different, but I didn't want to know what. Moments later, I feel Libby's arms go round me and hold me. I flinch momentarily but then don't hesitate to put a shaky arm around her shoulder. We're feeding each other strength and support, when all both of us want is for him to leave.

"Come party with us," he demands. "Just you." He points at Libby and I want to step forward and crack his nose. She gasps, but I know he's using her to get to me.

"Yeah that's not going to happen," I try to keep my voice level despite feeling completely out of control. "Get the fuck out, Ziggy. Leave us alone." I make a play for that, but I'll go with him if he asks again.

"No." He takes a step towards me and I instinctively pull Libby behind me. "You fucking owe me, Jasper."

"Owe you for what?" I shout, pulling away from her. I feel her grip my arm and it keeps me grounded and I stay where I am.

"You know what."

He's talking about the week we got caught joyriding, and the damage to that car. We may have been bailed out by my dad, but he was the one that bore the brunt of the punishment. Dad could only get lenience for one of us, and Ziggy had volunteered before I could. It's not exactly anything too bad, but he makes me feel guilty about it, and I'm sick of him using me because of it. Today is the last day he can hold this over me.

I breathe in through flared nostrils and then sigh. "Fine. I'll come." I pull Libby closer for a second, but then I let her go. "Zig, give me a minute." I take her hand instead.

He scoffs but shakes his head but leaves, closing the door on his way out.

"Jasper, you don't have to go. You don't," she begs. "Please don't go." She can tell something's wrong, but I don't want to say anything that will upset her even further than she already is. Fuck's sake Ziggy, he has the worst fucking timing.

"I won't be long, I promise," I whisper, leaning down to kiss her. "I won't be long." I know I'll be late but I'm trying to cover bases.

I drop my head to kiss her, but I can feel the fear in her lips, passing through to me, and I kiss her harder. I push her against the door, cupping her cheeks with my hands as I tangle my fingers into her hair.

"Please don't go," she begs again, her lips still on mine. "Jasper, I don't want you to go."

"Lib, if I don't go now, he'll just keep coming back. I promise, after today that's it. But I have to go... I just have to show my face." I don't know how long I'll be, but I promise myself that I'll be back as soon as I possibly can.

She nods, and kisses my cheek. Her face is sad as I look at her, but my god does she look beautiful.

"Baby, I love you okay. And I will be back soon." I pour all the comfort I can into my voice in the hopes that she hears it and believes me.

She nods again and her smile widens a bit more.

"I'll see you soon then," she mumbles.

I nod and kiss her forehead, leaving her in the middle of our tiny apartment.

***

When I get down to Ziggy's car, he's not alone. The whole fucking gang are here, which means trouble. I should never have agreed to this. But then when I get in Ziggy's car they're all patting my back and just saying happy birthday. And I am so fucking confused.

We drive down to the beach, and when I see where we're going, my stomach sinks.

They're taking me to a strip club, just like they had for my twenty first. I vaguely remember a promise made by Ziggy that he'd bring me back here next year, but I'd completely forgotten since Libby came into my life. When I came last time, they'd paid for me to have lap dances from one of the girls, and she then liked the look of me. Her name was Crystal but I don't think that was her real name. But she took me home off-duty, and she showed me a fucking awesome time. But this time I was committed, and I couldn't do this to Libby. I didn't want to be that person.

"Zig. Libby will kill me."

I'd be up front and honest with her tomorrow because I would have no doubt that one of the guys would film this and then try to use it against me. The last thing I want is for her to be blindsided, see it, and get the wrong end of the stick.

"Don't fucking care mate." He sniggers. "I mentioned you to Crystal earlier and she remembers you. Wanted to give you another birthday present." He sniggers again and high fives Glennie.

"Fuck's sake Ziggy. Are you mad that I've moved on from being a..." I stop when I realise I may be pushing him too far.

"Say it. Say what you were going to say." He shouts it in my face, going from laughing to furious in two seconds.

"A fucking low life!" I shout it back in his face, and the boys all stop and look at me. "I get that I was one too. But at least I've grown out of it and am trying to make something of it."

"Please!" He pushes me hard in the shoulder. "She's dumping you as soon as she can get that flight out. She's too good for you and she knows it. She's just using you to get her bad boy fantasy out of her system and then she'll dump you." He's lying. I know he is.

I look around and I notice Steph isn't here. I didn't know what happened between them but I know he's probably cut up about it, given they'd been fooling around for months. Libby had told me she'd dropped out over Christmas because her dad had another stroke.

"Just like Steph's dropped you?" I feel awful using that as a reason but it's the only thing I can think of to get him as riled up as I am.

"Fucking watch it. Now fucking get in there." He points at the club behind us.

"No!" I take a step back and stand my ground.

Thanks to my singular training in the gym, I could take at least three of these guys by myself, and I would if I had to. But what I wasn't banking on was Ziggy's total commandment of pure loyalty amongst his other friends.

Before I can say anything else, I'm knocked to the floor as I feel a lance of pain crack up the left side of my back. Someone has hit me hard with what felt like an iron bar. I look behind me and I see Smith with wild eyes, holding a cut piece of scaffolding pole. I had no idea where it came from, but from where we're standing he'd picked it up. I drop to my knee involuntarily at the pain of it, but I stagger back up and stand as straight as I can. He hasn't quite winded me, but I can't move my left arm to inspect the damage on my back. In any case, it fucking hurt.

"Fuck's sake Smith, really?" I shout, using the pain to fuel my anger.

I try to grab my back but pain lances up it again and I flinch involuntarily. I can already feel it bruising and it really fucking hurts. So rather than risking another whack, which would cripple me, I hobble slowly forward, and Ziggy follows me in, slapping a hand on my shoulder. As I walk forward, a cheer of catcalls erupt behind us and I look up at the sky sending a silent prayer to Libby, praying she'll forgive me.

As we walk into the dark and dingy club, I try to orchestrate my escape. It's only just past seven, and I'm not staying for long... but as I'm the focus of attention I'm not sure how easy it'll be for me to get away. If I'm home before midnight it'll be a miracle.

But when I get inside, my hope for escaping goes down the fucking toilet. I feel like the world goes into slow motion as we walk into the bar area and my stomach drops further when I see we're alone. It's just us four. Us four and about twenty strippers. In fact I wouldn't be surprised if there were twenty two strippers standing in front of me.

I was in for a long night. A very long night. And most likely an extremely long day of grovelling tomorrow.

***

Ziggy sits me down, making me grimace from the impact on my back, and slowly and agonisingly the girls start their show. As each girl crawls and dances in front of me, I see the others dancing round poles or on the laps of the others. I just try and keep my hands off the girl that is on my lap.

I'm hating it. I'm hating all of it. And when I see Ziggy filming - like I thought someone would - I want to launch at him. If it wasn't for the girl pushing her butt in my face and the pain shooting up my side, I would. Instead, I close my eyes and use all of my power, imagining I'm at home.

It's not Candy or Kristal shaking their bedazzled and barely covered butts and boobs in my face. It's Libby nibbling my ear and straddling my chest to wake me up on Saturday mornings. It's not Paula or Brianna grinding up against me. It's Libby rubbing herself up against me, kissing me as we try to watch some shitty romance movie. And it's not Adrienne or Carla sliding and dancing around a pole in front of me. Libby dancing around the kitchen with her headphones in when she hadn't realised I was home.

For hours I imagine Libby. For hours I summon her to my mind, hoping, praying that she'll somehow forgive me for this.

When the last dancer has finished, I think it's finished and I sink in relief. But then Crystal comes out. She's breathtaking, just as I remember she was last year, but I've had enough. I shake my head and stand, shocked at my own willpower. I've put up with too much, I should have stopped after the first one, or before the first one even started. And I finally lose it.

"Enough!" I scream it loud enough to be heard over the god-awful tacky night club music. "Enough! Zig, do you fucking think this is funny?"

The fact he's laughing shows that he does. The other guys are having too much fun with my 'leftovers' to check into this conversation.

"It is kind of funny. Now you have to go back and explain yourself to her." He sneers and pushes the girl off his lap. "You'll be dumped."

"She'll understand. She knows who you are Zig. You're a piece shit, just like I know it. You're a lowlife. A piece of shit that won't let people get better or do better for themselves." I walk closer to him and get up in his face on purpose. His eyes are wild and he's flared his nostrils. "I'm doing something with my life now. I've crawled out from your crippling darkness, and I'm not letting you control me anymore."

"I'm not! I'm showing you a fucking good time, bro. You're just being an ungrateful spoiled little piece of chicken shit who's fucking whipped as cream."

I scoff and shove him hard in the shoulder. I have the advantage on him and he knows that so he just stands there and takes it. "So what if I am. Libby is wholesome and pure. And for some insane and unexplainable reason, she loves me. She loves me. And I'll be damned if I let you do anything to jeopardise that."

"It's not going to last." He says it sharply and as a last resort, trying to find a chink in my armour.

"It is. And you can stop trying to plant that shit in my head. It's not going to work. And you can also stop using that night as an excuse. We all know I wouldn't have been there in the first place, had it not been for you, and it's you who should be grateful to me. My dad got us out of a bind, not you. We'd have been in juvie. And you worse." I jab him hard in the shoulder with my index finger. "So if you ever fucking try to use that as an excuse again... you're going to fucking regret it."

He's silent, and I've noticed the music has now stopped, everyone is looking at us.

Ziggy is furious, but not as furious as me. I'm determined not to throw a punch but I will if he tests me. My back is killing me from where Smith hit me, and I just want to get home. I want to get home to my girl. Even if I have to walk, I'll do it.

He doesn't say anything as I look around, and I decide it's time for me to leave. I look at the clock as I leave, and my stomach drops. It's three in the morning, but if I leave now and walk, I'll be home in just over an hour.

I walk out with my heart in my mouth, sighing loudly as the cool early morning air hits my lungs like a kick in the guts.

I'd made it out. I'd made it out alive, and back out the other side. And now I had an hour's hike back to the girl who'd been there for me through all of it.

***

When I get back, I'm so exhausted I trip over my own feet coming in the door, swearing as I hold myself upright on the door handle. I stink of booze and cigarettes from the club, even though none of it is mine. I take off my jacket, which is the main offender, before heading inside and closing the door. I dump it quietly on the couch and take off my boots as well, placing them on the rack next to Libby's.

I'm about to decide to just sleep on the couch, not wanting to disturb her, but I see her move. Only slightly, but I see her head move. She's awake, but doesn't want me to think she is. Just like me, she can't sleep unless she knows I'm safe. I'm the same. On the nights she stays out with Willow and her friends, I don't sleep until she's home, or I see a message from her saying she's back and about to go to bed.

I tuck myself gently into the bed behind her, not bothering to take off my jeans or my shirt. I gingerly slide in behind her, wincing as my side protests when I pull her close to me. As I lie my head next to hers, I touch my lips to the back of her head before shutting my eyes and falling asleep.

The last thing I feel before sleep takes me are her fingers brushing against my hand, welcoming me home.