Chapter Five Mason
Chapter Five
Mason
“Hey, honey.”
There’s a hand on my shoulder. The sensation sends a panicked jolt through my body, and I hurl upright with a gasp, slapping the wrist away. “Don’t!” I snap.
“It’s just me, Mason.”
Annie’s familiar voice slows my heartbeat. I’m nestled into the love seat in Annie’s Brews, a couch pillow tucked under my beanie. The world beyond the café windows is pitch-black, and the chairs have been upended onto rounded tables. “Did I hold you up?” I ask, grimacing.
“Never.” Annie tugs me to my feet and hands me my backpack as we head to the door.
She closes it behind us and twists her key into the lock.
Though darkness has cloaked the town, the overhead moon provides just enough light to cast silvery twinkles along Lake Evergreen.
Despite the serenity of a calm night in Elwood, my apprehension begins to mount.
My eyes flit around, searching the uneven cracks and foliage plaguing the parking lot, scanning the shadows behind looming streetlights.
“Have a good night,” I say quietly, and I start to walk toward the main road, but she catches the crook of my arm.
“What are you doing?” she asks, raising a stern brow. “You don’t have a ride?”
I swallow with apprehension. I don’t normally stick around until closing time—I foolishly fell asleep, though, so now I get to deal with questions. “It’s fine,” I try to say, but she’s already anticipating my response and shaking her head.
“Absolutely not. You’re not walking home alone when it’s this dark.”
Well. I can’t exactly run away, because she’d just confront me the next time I show up at her shop. So I reluctantly follow her to her beat-up vehicle, climbing into the passenger seat.
As I start mindlessly pointing her down the correct streets, I can’t help but reflect.
Honestly, I expected I was walking into the most frustrating day of my life.
That’s usually how Cameron Morelli leaves me feeling—he’s that overconfident, conceited “I don’t take orders from anyone” type of jock.
He whined about everything, sure, but when it came time to get serious, he had, against my expectations, gotten serious.
We’re starting to approach a crossroad where if I tell her to turn right, we’ll end up at my house. If I tell her to turn left…
It’ll take us in the direction of Ravi’s bonfire.
I rub my palms against my tired eyes. Most of me wants to go home.
Parties aren’t my forte—my egregious small-talking skills leave me with acquaintances instead of friends, because nobody finds me interesting to be around.
But I’ve spent years of my life avoiding social circles and shying away from friendships because I felt…
or I was promised…that I wouldn’t need them.
And maybe I don’t. But I can’t help feeling lonely.
I made an oath that I would try to get myself out there. That I would go places I’m invited, talk to people who approach me.
So I say, “Take a left.”
—
The bonfire is already roaring in Ravi’s backyard, and there’s upward of four dozen people hovering around it, clinking plastic cups, enjoying nostalgic pop music.
Dim golden string lights zigzag over our heads, illuminating the trees lining Ravi’s yard.
A white foldout table decorated with alcohol and a cooler hugs the wall beside the glass door.
I stand beside the fire, the heat of the crackling flames washing my face, and sip my drink, watching embers spiral away from the billowing smoke.
A few people are talking in pairs or small groups, but I don’t know most of them by name.
I should probably consider finding someone I’ve had pleasant conversations with.
Just then, there’s an onslaught of noises—the glass door slamming open, deep voices booming into the night, laughter shaking the ground. The varsity footballers are here. Thundering out of the house are Anup, Darius, Jody, Nate.
And, of course, Cameron Morelli.
He’s wearing a gleaming smile, and my traitorous heart does a higher-than-normal bounce.
With his plaid shirt, peeled-back sleeves, and black pants rolled to his ankles, he’d fit in well in a college crowd.
The highlighted streaks in his brown hair catch in the firelight, causing them to sparkle gold.
The hearth’s glow is flattering against his warm skin.
A lanky arm slides around my neck, and a voice says, “The team darling!”
The unexpected feeling nearly sends me lurching into the fire.
It’s Anup, wearing a signature sly smile that indicates he knows a little more than you.
I return it, though seeing him makes my stomach twitch.
Where he goes, the rest of the team follows, and I’m not sure how thoroughly I want to be perceived tonight.
“How’s my baby?” he asks, squeezing me against him. “I heard you had to hang out with our most unbearable player today.”
I know he’s being polite, seeking me out to talk to me. He probably saw me lingering by the fire, pathetically alone, and feels like he owes me something since I refill his water during games. I won’t hold him long here.
“I’m fine,” I say with a neutral smile.
“Back off,” comes another voice. Darius, the middle linebacker and team captain, is now taking up his usual excessive amount of space in the semicircle around the fire. He raises a thick, weary brow at Anup. “Nobody wants to be that close to you.”
“Aww! Tell him that’s not true, Gray.”
I can’t say I’m comfortable, yet part of me doesn’t mind the friendly physical contact with another person. Before I can respond, Anup unhooks his arm from around me, then peeks into my cup.
“Got booze?”
“No,” I say.
“You driving?”
“No.”
“Then let’s get some vodka into that cup!” He tries prying it from my fingers, but I hold tight, inching away, my throat suddenly tasting like bile.
“It’s fine,” I say faintly. “I don’t drink anymore, so…”
“Bobbing for apples!” another voice cries, and suddenly, Cameron is jogging circles around us, pumping his fists with excitement. “Ravi’s filling the blow-up pool! I’m going to kick your asses, ha-ha-ha-ha!”
He runs off with a delighted hoot. I don’t think he noticed me, which is fine. I’m nothing but a temporary tutor and the guy who rejected him—a title I’m happy to keep.
“Oh my God, I have to push him in, oh my God—” Anup laughs maniacally and takes off after Cameron. He was probably glad to have an excuse to leave. Darius isn’t as lucky, and now he’s stuck adjacent to me, swirling a drink, grimacing at the footballers wreaking havoc.
A sudden howl yanks my attention sideways.
It’s only been ten seconds, and Cameron is flailing in the pool of apples, roaring curses while Anup and Jody shriek with laughter.
The sight of him writhing in a shallow kiddie pool is ridiculous enough to make me laugh, forcing me to throw a hand over my mouth.
He’s kind of funny. Sometimes.
“Seems like they have it out for Cameron today,” I say to Darius, thankful to have a conversation starter. I have to take initiative. All the social skills I should’ve learned as I grew up were robbed from me, and now that it’s senior year, this is my last chance to practice them.
Though, did I have to think this hard earlier, when I was with Cameron? I can’t remember ever straining or searching for conversations. Maybe I’m just not as worried about his opinion or something.
“Better this than confronting him about the game he lost for us,” Darius says, sighing while Cameron hikes himself onto the grass, sopping wet.
“I’m surprised you’re not angrier.”
“Eh. Cam screwed up, but he’s our best player.
His skills are off the charts—he came out of nowhere at the end of the last season.
He can throw a bullet halfway down the field into a receiver’s hands as he’s being tackled.
He’s amazing, so we get over his issues.
” Darius shrugs his broad shoulders. “And we have no reason to hate him.”
I smirk. “Seems like you could find something if you squinted.”
Darius laughs, and then it’s quiet again. Damn it. What topic should I bring up next? He’s probably fumbling for a reason to step away. “You…You can…go,” I say feebly.
His eyes, which were glazed on the fire, sharpen so they can look at me. “What?”
“You don’t have to stay here. Um. With me,” I clarify. I can already feel heat seeping into my face, and I hope the flames aren’t bright enough to illuminate it. “I know you’d probably rather hang out with the guys.”
Darius laughs in a low rumble that shakes the ground under my feet. “You’re kidding, right?” he asks skeptically. “I have to spend every waking moment with those dipshits. I’d much rather be here right now.”
Oh. Right. “I guess it’s quieter,” I agree. Since I can’t maintain a conversation to save my fucking life, and all.
“It is. Besides, I’d prefer to hang out with you.”
That gives me pause, and I knit my brows. He’s back to watching the flames snap and twirl, nursing his cup against his lip. Why would he say that? To make me feel better? “I don’t have much to say,” I admit. “Sorry. If you feel obligated to stand with me…”
“What are you talking about?”
Darius looks both baffled and vaguely annoyed, and I think I’ve screwed something up. Panic closes my throat, but thankfully, my phone rings—the perfect escape. Thoughtlessly, I swipe the screen and bring it to my ear as I jog away. “Hello?” I say, the haze of anxiety clearing.
“Mason?”
My heart plummets into my stomach. The air leaves my lungs in one shaky exhale. “Don’t call me,” I sputter out, and I disconnect, but it doesn’t matter. His word, low and smooth, still reverberates in my ears. It’s been so long since I’ve heard him say my name.
My pulse rams against my throat and water glasses my eyes. My phone hums.
Sorry if I caught you off guard. If you aren’t ready to call, I’m happy to text. :)
Ah. This isn’t good. My thoughts are an incoherent mess. My stomach twists and flutters and aches. My fingers are moving.
I’m sorry, I don’t think we should text.
I told myself I would never apologize to him again. Yet here I am, my first two words to him in months.
I’m sorry.
I understand. Let me know if you need anything. I’m always here for you.
He’s never said something like this before. Does that mean he’s maybe…?
I massage the wetness from my eyes, shoving my phone in my pocket. I don’t want to be here. I can’t do this right now. So I power walk to the glass door, then round the corner into Ravi’s kitchen, nearly slipping on a trail of water leading into the house.
When I look up, it’s because I’m slamming face-first into a naked Cameron Morelli.