Chapter Six Mason #2
I fan a palm over my stomach, embarrassed. “Sorry,” I mumble. “I’ve been running on coffee and a blueberry muffin today.”
Cameron’s brows are furrowed and his eyes—turquoise under the nearby light—are shot with concern. Suddenly, he turns to the yard and shouts, “Who’s sober?”
He’s glaring at the varsity football players, all of whom snicker again at the sight of his towel. Darius glances around, then heaves a fatigued sigh. “Guess that’s me,” he says somberly.
“Emergency Taco Bell run,” Cameron snaps, and he takes my shoulder, shaking me around. “Aren’t you guys always creaming your pants over this guy? How do none of you know that the only thing your precious water boy has eaten today is a muffin?”
No. No, no, no. My face is flooded with scorching heat again, made worse by the fact that everyone immediately gasps in horror and sprints toward me.
“My baby!” Anup says, gripping my face and squeezing. He’s far, far gone. “Don’t worry, Big D will get you some precious sustenance.”
“Why haven’t you eaten?” Jody demands, shoving Cameron aside to get a closer look at me. “What are we supposed to do if you get sick or something? Bad enough this asshole next to me had to get benched. The team literally won’t survive without you there to keep everyone cool.”
There it is again. Another proclamation that I do more for this team than hydrate them. I don’t understand why they’re being so nice—I guess they just know I’m a lonely person trying to get myself out there, and they’re being supportive.
I’m so lightheaded I can feel numbing tingles in my fingers.
Normally, being surrounded by several muscular guys who only have eyes for you is a bi boy’s dream, but it’s suffocating.
So I do what I always do and turn my lips up into a small smile, keeping quiet.
They’ll stop eventually. They’ll get bored of me and my lack of response. I just need to stay collected—
Someone yanks my sweater, hoisting me out of the center of attention. Suddenly, Cameron is inches from my face, allowing me to zero in on him. “What do you want?” he demands, rattling me around again. “Darius is going to get you something so you don’t pass away.”
He’s still speaking in an exaggerated manner, his movements agitated and dramatic, but his voice is strangely low. Steadying.
“It’s fine.” I shrug out of Cameron’s grip. “I’ll eat when I get home.”
“Look, Mason. Taco Bell is right around the corner.” Darius swings his keys around his thick index finger. “You do plenty to help Barnett and the team. And you’re suffering through tutoring Cam. It’s the least we can do.”
“Suffering?” Cameron chokes out.
“I love you, man, but you’re a pain in the ass.”
Everyone nods in agreement. Cameron whirls away with a dramatic sniffle.
“So,” Darius says, looking pointedly at me, “text me your order and I’ll be back.”
He walks off, followed closely by Anup and Nate, who are asking how many things he’ll buy them while he’s there. A deep, baritone “Zero” resounds through the yard.
“Come on.” Cameron’s voice is back to how it usually is—obnoxiously loud and lilting like a frat boy’s in college.
He nudges me toward the bonfire before I can properly react to anything that just happened.
“You need heat. You’ll stand a better chance against the Grim Ripper if you’re not both malnourished and hypothermic. ”
Despite the frustrated pounding in my temples, a smile cracks my face. How can he say words like “hypothermic” in the same sentence as “Grim Ripper”? “Reaper,” I correct gently.
Cameron glares at me, the flames accenting his tan face nicely. Then, “I need to text Big D your order. What do you want, water boy?”
“I guess…a black bean soft taco.”
“He’s going to punch my sack if he finds out I sent him away to order one dollar’s worth of food,” Cameron snaps. “Come on—work with me.”
I swallow nervously. I don’t have much money—allowance doesn’t exist in my house (I simply do the chores I’m asked to by my mother, who says my reward is the roof over my head).
The only pocket change I have is when the artists tip me for volunteering to watch the gallery.
But I can probably afford a little more, so I say, “Two black bean soft tacos?”
“And?”
“Uh…a veggie burrito supreme?”
“Now we’re getting somewhere.” When he finishes texting, we return to watching the flames.
Ravi must’ve added more firewood, because it’s soaring higher, shedding golden light farther across the backyard.
Cameron keeps one wary eye on me, and I wonder how he’d react if I pretended to faint.
The thought of him squawking and running circles around my unconscious body is so amusing, I have to shield my mouth to prevent laughing.
“Why do you do that?” He points at my palm. “Your teeth rotting or something?”
I lower my hand, the smile fading away. “Just a habit.”
That smile of yours…
“How did you get here?” Cameron asks.
“Annie drove me.”
“How are you getting home, then?”
I shrug. “Walking, I guess.”
Cameron gives me an incredulous look, like I said something absurd.
“What?” I ask defensively.
“You can’t just walk around in the middle of the night by yourself.
And when you’re starved half to death. What are you thinking?
” he demands. I’m about to ask why he’s concerned, but then he flips course and playfully says, “If you reconsider your rejection, maybe I’d even be willing to drive you home. ”
“I thought you couldn’t drive,” I say accusingly, raising a brow. “Isn’t that why you sent Darius to Taco Bell? Because he’s the only sober one?”
“I’m sober, too. But someone needed to stay with you to make sure you don’t pass out,” he says, scoffing.
“And you decided to take up the mantle. I’m honored.”
“Don’t be. It’s my duty as a strong, competent man.”
I smirk, scooping my knees tighter into my chest. “Sure,” I whisper.
Darius arrives minutes later with Anup and Nate, and it’s only when I smell food that my hunger reels to the surface. My stomach roils with nausea, and Darius has to meet my trek toward him halfway to hand me my bag. “How much do I owe?” I ask feebly.
“This one’s on me.” Darius claps my shoulder, and I nearly buckle under his strength. “Oops. Sorry. Go eat—you don’t look good.”
I can’t muster a protest, so I stagger back to the fire, flopping into the grass.
The other guys swarm Darius to claim the extra miscellaneous food.
After mowing down tortillas, beans, and cheese, my stomach stops aching, and my nausea trickles away.
Cameron returns from the mob, sniffling and empty-handed as he sinks into the grass.
His team must still be irritated with him about yesterday’s game.
“Better?” he asks, analyzing my face.
“Yeah. You didn’t have to set that up. Thanks.”
He purses his lips.
“I’m not being sarcastic,” I say, laughing.
His eyes widen a fraction, like I said something strange. He turns to the fire, and his cheeks glow a tinge of pink.
“What?” I ask nervously.
“It’s nothing.” He leans on his palms in the grass, gazing into the flames. “You should stop covering your smile.”
My body goes rigid. I hadn’t even realized…Ugh. Shit. I need to be more careful. “Want the rest of my food?” I sputter out, swallowing my embarrassment. “I’m full, so—”
“Hell yes.” Cameron snags the bag and rips out a soft taco, though his face scrunches when he bites into it. “I forgot this was black bean. What, you don’t trust their meat?”
“I’m vegetarian.”
He gasps hard enough to nearly choke himself. “No shit?”
I have to catch myself before I can laugh again. “You’re not going to tell me how inconvenient that must be?” I ask skeptically. “Or demand what happened to make me like this?”
Cameron answers with a shake of his head. “Why should I? It’s not my business.”
I should’ve expected that response from the “if it’s not about me, I don’t care” guy.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. When I remember its existence, I also remember why I went dashing out of the yard earlier. The ever-present pit in my stomach triples in size, weighing down my back and chest and shoulders.
What am I doing here, really?
The rest of the night passes in a blur. I don’t remember Cameron driving me home, but he must, because suddenly I’m flopping into bed, dressed in cozy pajamas.
I swipe away the messages, documenting my lack of response to the final one as a win.
Though his texts do seem a little kinder than they used to be.
I stuff my face into my pillow, trying to steer my attention elsewhere.
Where else could it go but to Cameron Morelli?
Faintly, I can remember his grip on my shoulders.
The way he strutted around with that towel clinging to his waist, fully confident in his stature.
What must it be like? To look like that?
Feel like that? To have the certainty that you can protect yourself?
I raise my skinny arm and peer at it through the dark. My lower lip trembles.
I want to be like that.