Chapter 35
You’ve never even smoked a blunt in your life
I finished curling my hair and gave myself an appreciative nod in the mirror.
I couldn’t tell if being in love was changing the way you looked, or if it was just the brightness of Mason’s bathroom, but I swore my cheeks always looked like I’d applied blush these days, and my hair was shinier.
I changed into a dark denim skirt and knee-high boots, paired with an off-white tank top under a bubblegum-pink vest. Tonight, I was having dinner with Craig and Mason.
They had insisted on inviting me to the Thai place I liked so much to make up for the mess they caused when they’d crashed my date with Jett.
Family bonding session, they called it, which was fine by me.
I was about to fix a blue gemstone stud to my ear when it slipped from my fingers and landed in the waste basket by the vanity. “Ugh,” I said, mostly to myself. I would have to empty the entire thing in order to find my tiny earring.
Kneeling on the tiled floor, I sighed and flipped the trash can over. Used tissues and condoms—super gross even if they were ours—cotton swabs, bandage, and tampon wrappers. I should get Mason a trash can with a lid to avoid future encounters with the disgusting content.
I lifted another tissue and stopped mid-movement, my eyes widening and my jaw going slack at the sight of the small object it covered.
A swirl of anger and fear churned inside me. I had no idea how I was supposed to feel right now.
Careful not to poke my fingers, I lifted the syringe.
My boyfriend had lied to me. He said he was done with the drugs. If that had been the truth, this thing wouldn’t have been in there.
I dropped down on my ass and folded my legs, hugging them with my arms. The excitement of going out with the boys faded, leaving a bitter taste lingering in my throat.
What should I do? Mason would never agree to see a counselor or a doctor, and I would never rat him out to his coach.
I’d been through this myself, and I wouldn’t wish being betrayed by the ones you trusted on my worst enemy.
I rested my head against the cabinet behind me, not sure what the next course of action should be.
From the corner of my eye, I spotted my lost earring, the blue gemstone shining amongst the waste.
I picked it up and rolled it between my fingers.
I had no idea if I should be grateful I’d dropped it or hate it for slipping from my grip because now I couldn’t fake I didn’t know what Mason had been up to.
I heard footsteps behind me and braced myself for the argument that would ensue.
No way could I pretend all night I hadn’t seen what I’d seen.
Nope. Anyway, hiding from reality was a bad idea.
I had done that to myself for such a long time.
I wouldn’t let the boy I loved do the same thing to himself.
“Hey, love. Are you ready?” Mason asked as he stepped into the bathroom, eyeing the chaos in front of me. “What’s this? Did you stumble and fall? You should have hollered my name. I was downstairs with the guys.”
I remained still, not sure how to be honest without starting a huge fight.
Mason squatted next to me. “Are you okay? You look a bit pale. We can reschedule if you feel sick.” He kissed the side of my head, and for an instant, I melted at the gesture.
But then I remembered the syringe, and my insides twisted into knots.
With a deep inhale, I summoned every ounce of courage I possessed. “I’m not sick, and for your information, I was ready. I’m just not sure I am anymore.”
“What do you mean?”
Right there, I saw it hit him—the moment of realization—his face going pale. Looking down, he blinked a dozen times, refusing to meet my gaze.
“You promised you were done with this shit.” I opened my fist and presented him with the syringe I was clutching.
“I am.” He dropped down on the floor on my left, hugging his knees the same way I was.
“Why don’t I believe you right now?”
“Mel, I’m telling the truth. I was tempted the other night… I wanted to do it, but then I thought better of it because I didn’t wanna disappoint you…or myself. You were not supposed to find it.”
“Well, I did.”
“Is it a habit of yours to rummage through other people’s trash?”
“I dropped my earring. Not that it matters anyway.” The first tears rolled down my cheeks.
“You promised. You swore to me you were done, and there were no more drugs in this house or your gym bag or the locker room. You lied.” My shoulders sagged forward.
“I think it’s the worst part about all of this. ”
“You gotta believe me. I haven’t used anything since the night you caught me. I’ve been clean.”
“Clean? It’s not a word I ever thought you would use to describe yourself. I’m so worried, Mase. I don’t want you hurting yourself. You saw firsthand how it turned out for me. You saw how the lies destroyed us the last time. Why would you risk us going through this again?”
“Mel…”
“Don’t Mel me.” I moved to stand, and Mason followed suit. With a tissue, I wiped the mascara streaks tracing my cheeks. “I think I should go. Before I do or say something I’ll regret.”
Mason blocked my escape. “You’re not going anywhere. I won’t let you run away this time. Every time things get tough, you leave.”
I held his stare and pushed his chest with both hands. “Move. You’re not the boss of me.”
“You’re right, but I’m also telling the truth here, and I have nothing to hide. We can talk like grown-ups do. I need you to trust me.”
More tears leaked from my eyes. “I’m trying to, but this”—I waved the syringe still in my grip—“makes it pretty hard.”
“I. AM. NOT. USING.”
“Stop screaming, or the entire neighborhood will know, and you’ll make the matter even worse than it already is. The last thing you need is your coach hearing about it.”
“I’ll say it loud enough for the whole world to hear if that’s the only way you’ll listen. I. Didn’t. Use. It. I opened it, looked at it for maybe two minutes, thought it was a shitty idea since the pool therapy is helping—just not as fast as I would like—and threw it away.”
“We can add a third session per week if needed. It’s still working, right?”
“It is. The stiffness is mostly gone these days. Just some residual discomfort. My range of motion has improved. My joint mobility too.”
“It’s amazing news. Why did you want to shoot up this stuff then? Are you like self-sabotaging your future and your health for fun? It doesn’t sound like you.”
Mason lowered his voice as we moved next to his bed. “I’m just tired of underperforming.”
I tossed my hands up. “You are not underperforming, Mase. That’s where you’re wrong.
I’ve read articles online, I’ve checked videos, I’ve heard the chatter at Lola’s.
People are impressed by your talent. They call you the next big thing in college football.
George wants to add your picture to his celebrity wall, Mase.
He’s already named a drink after you, Pierce and Score, and now he wants to create a special dish in your honor.
Don’t you see it? While you believe you’re playing like shit, people are obsessed with you.
They fancy you. I haven’t heard anyone blaming you for those losses. Not a single one.”
Mason dropped onto his bed, propping his elbows up on his knees and burying his face in his hands.
“I’m no fucking football royalty anymore, Shepard.
I’m a struggling starting quarterback who has his entire team on his back each time they don’t win a game.
They wish Benjamin was back. They don’t care about my ability to throw a ball.
They think I’m a cocky motherfucker who needs to wait until their star player retires to shine.
It’s a load of bullshit. I’ve never felt so much pressure before in my entire life. ”
“I get it, but stop being dramatic for a second. It doesn’t sound like you. You’re the confident jock who knows his value and doesn’t take no for an answer. A team leader who cares about his teammates way more than he should. You are Mason Pierce, for God’s sake. Start acting like him.”
“I really don’t need your stupid positive shit right now.”
“If you don’t want my stupid positive shit, then talk to someone else. Your coach, your college advisor, a shrink, your dad. I don’t know what’s going on because with me, you always pretend everything is all right.”
He lifted his head to look at me. “Because when I’m with you, it really is. You always make the bad stuff seem better. I forget about everything else when I just as much as look at you. And when I’m inside you, I never wanna leave.”
“Mase, I can be your anchor, but I can’t be your escape, and I won’t be your crutch. That’s not healthy.”
“I never said it was. I’m telling you things as I see them. If you can’t—” A soft knock on the door cut him short. “Yeah?”
Craig peeked inside. Wearing dark jeans and a knitted maroon sweater, he appeared less ruffled than I’d seen him most of the semester so far. “You guys are ready?” He must have sensed the tension in the air because his face fell. “Whose cat died?”
I used the heels of my hands to erase the last traces of tears from my eyes. I bet I had smudged mascara all over my face by now. Not wanting my voice to betray me, I remained silent.
“Nothing,” my boyfriend said, his voice missing his usual cheerfulness.
“Whoa.” Craig entered the bedroom with his hands lifted in surrender before him. He took a seat next to his brother. “Did someone die, or are you guys breaking up?”
“No one is breaking up.” Mason’s tone was laced with fury. “Mind your own business, man.”
Craig’s eyes widened, and his attention drifted between his brother and me.
I felt bad for him. For once, he didn’t lock himself in his bedroom or avoid us and appeared to be happy to go out, and Mason and I were fighting, ruining the moment.
“What’s that?” Craig pointed to the forgotten syringe in my hand.