Chapter 3 Ruin You #2
I can’t risk my friendship with Oliver just because I’m a little horny.
Okay, a lot horny. I can find someone else—someone who’s not going to live in close proximity during the whole summer.
How awkward would it be to start sleeping with someone and then be forced to see them in the kitchen the day after?
Pretty fucking awkward… Pretty fun, too.
No.
I shake my head, trying to shake the thoughts out of my mind.
“What should I do?” I ask, voice thin. I can’t let Oliver know what just ran through my mind. I can’t let him know what I want—what I crave more than the sour candy in the cabinet downstairs. And I really love candy.
“About?” Oliver asks.
“About him. Mason.”
“I told you—just ignore him. If you talk back, or if you tell him you’re not interested, that’s just going to make him chase you more.”
“Sounds kind of creepy.”
Oliver sends me a glance, one eyebrow raised. “That’s because he is. Not only that—he’s a fucking criminal. A violent, unhinged asshole.”
“Violent? What did he do?”
Oliver’s gaze darkens. “It’s not my place to say.”
“He didn’t kill anyone, did he?”
“No.”
I exhale in relief, but Oliver doesn’t seem relieved at all.
“Promise me, Lane. Promise me you’ll stay away from him.”
I frown, trying to shake off the uncomfortable feeling taking root inside me. It’s not like I’ve planned for anything to happen between me and Mason, but…
“Pinky promise?” Oliver holds out his hand, pinky outstretched.
I smile. “Yeah, pinky promise. Of course. I’m here to see you, remember? Not him.”
Oliver nods, relieved when I link my pinky with his. “Yeah.”
I’m quiet for a while, contemplating the promise I just made to my best friend.
Okay, ignore Mason. Stay away from him. Don’t let him ruin me, whatever that means. I can do that. Can’t be that hard, right?
Just then, a loud bang shakes the walls of the entire house.
Oliver groans and slams a pillow over his head. “I’m gonna fucking kill him!”
I don’t see Mason at all the rest of that day, but it hardly helps my predicament. When bedtime comes—around 4 AM by Oliver’s and my schedule—I’m exhausted from my previous sleepless night, and Oliver’s snoring doesn’t help.
I try to knock myself out by listening to boring YouTube videos, but nothing seems to work. The AC is on its last leg, so it’s hot and humid, and the faint smell of old pizza from the discarded carton is distracting and gross.
Finally, I realize why I’m having such a hard time finding rest.
I always jerk off before bed at home, and my body seems conditioned to think nighttime means jerk-off time. Now that I’m sleeping in the same room as my best friend, it’s hardly appropriate to start jerking it while he’s right next to me, is it?
Ignoring my need is all I can do, but as a result, I’m unable to sleep.
After what feels like hours, I give up and go downstairs to the kitchen for a glass of water.
The house is dark, but there’s enough light outside from streetlights that I don’t bother clicking the kitchen light on.
I fill a glass with water from the sink and take a sip, sullenly glaring into nothing.
“Hey, puppy.”
I jump, nearly dropping the glass, and I turn around to see none other than Mason standing there, shirtless of course, dressed only in a pair of black boxers.
“Don’t call me that,” I grumble.
“Why? Because you like it too much?”
My cheeks flush furiously, and I can’t think of a reply fast enough, my mind spinning and distracted.
“Where’s your collar?” Mason watches me casually, as if it’s not creepy as fuck that he just showed up out of nowhere and scared the crap out of me.
When he reaches over me to grab a glass from the cabinet, I slide under his arm, backing off, trying to reclaim my personal space. Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem to matter where in the room he is; his presence is just as tangible either way.
“It’s not a collar,” I argue.
“Mm-hmm.” His next words are spoken so calmly, as if he’s stating facts rather than trying to convince me. “But you want it to be.”
My mouth falls open. Too many seconds pass before I manage to shut it and replace my stunned expression with a glare.
“It’s called fashion. Not that you’d know anything about it.” I sound prissy, like a snob, but that’s the point. I need him to leave me alone, but somehow he gets closer with every word I say.
Ignore him, Oliver said. Well, it’s easier said than done.
There’s a new glint in his eyes now, along with his smirk. “Well, maybe I want to know. You could teach me.” He looks me up and down, locking his gaze on me, and I’m unable to shake it off.
Oliver’s out cold and can’t come interrupt us. I’m all alone. I feel like I need to be saved, which is weird; Mason is just some guy, but he turns my world upside down with merely a glance.
I bring my hand to my throat where I usually have my choker, but in its absence, I stroke a hand along my neck in a soothing gesture.
Mason’s eyes fix on my hand, and he takes a step forward.
Oh. Oh no.
I step back. “I should go to sleep.”
Mason shrugs. “You could, but why bother?”
“Don’t you have anywhere to be tomorrow?”
“That’s the thing, puppy—I don’t. So I thought you and I could be friends.”
“Friends? I don’t think so.”
“Why not?”
Oliver told me you were dangerous. Oliver told me to stay away. And that’s exactly why I don’t want to stay away, and that in turn is the reason why I should. That rush of exciting, forbidden danger.
I can hardly tell Mason all this, so instead, I say, “I don’t need any more friends. I have Oliver.”
“Yeah, but Oliver’s pretty boring, isn’t he?”
“And you’re not?”
His teeth gleam with a smirk. “Just give me a try, puppy. You’ll find out.”
My breath comes in short bursts, and my hands sweat so much they feel clammy when I set the glass aside on the counter. “No, thanks,” I squeak, high-pitched and not too convincing.
I have to admit I’ve lost this one, but I fear I’ll lose even more if I stay, so I do the one thing I can do: escape.
I slink past Mason’s intimidating form and all but run up the stairs, back into the safety of Oliver’s room. Oliver is still snoring soundly, and I let out a relieved breath. I didn’t even do anything, yet the thought of him knowing what was going on downstairs makes me squirm.
I lie back on my mattress and squeeze my eyes shut, dick throbbing, mind reeling, and the fire in my gut flaming hot.
What am I supposed to do? I promised Oliver I’d ignore him, but I’ve already failed. I can’t let it go further than this.
I don’t know how to handle him, but I have to find a way. If I resist, he only seems to like it more, and if I ignore him, my silence only leaves him with more openings to tease me. I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t.
This summer was supposed to be lighthearted and fun, but now it’s more of a test of willpower than anything else.
It’s not my fault that he looks at me like that.
It’s not my fault that he seems to know exactly what I want…
I mean, what I shouldn’t want… and what I definitely shouldn’t want with my best friend’s dangerous big brother.
“Fuck,” I whisper and squeeze my eyes shut, waiting for sleep to come and wishing away the hardness between my legs.