Chapter Twenty-Seven Cameron
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Cameron
Mason Gray is breaking up with me.
“I am not,” he says, staring ahead of him to the twisty, curving roads as I drive us home from practice.
It’s sinking deep enough into fall now that the trees are fully steeped in autumnal colors, from blazing reds and oranges to warm yellows and browns.
The midnight-black asphalt before us is littered in damp, flattened leaves, making it difficult to see where the dotted lines are.
“Why are you being so shady, then?” I demand. He’s been questionably quiet, more so than usual. He didn’t tap my head with his clipboard even once today during practice, which is grounds for concern. “What did I do wrong?”
The edges of his mouth are pulling up, so I guess I’m not in trouble. “Everything is perfectly fine, Your Highness. How can this modest peasant demonstrate his innocence to you?”
My lip gnarls into a scowl. “Every time I think you’re done being a little shit—”
“Take this left.”
I choke on a curse and yank the steering wheel left, nearly sending us up onto two wheels as I swerve into the parking lot of a tiny brick building tucked among the towering trees.
It’s paneled with giant glass windows and there’s only one car present—a neon Open sign is blinking in the entryway. A flower shop.
“Wait here,” Mason says, and he clambers out of the car.
“Why—?”
He slams the door and heads inside before I can even finish my sentence.
I’m going to find a way to make him pay for his rudeness later.
As I’m devising a list of torture methods—including poking his waist mercilessly—he reappears, holding a bouquet of pink, purple, and blue assorted flowers in a glass vase.
“Okay, we can go now,” he says, and then he holds something out to me.
It’s my fucking debit card.
“Excuse me?” I wheeze out, fumbling for my wallet in my pocket and flipping it open. How did he…? When…?
“Let’s head back to your place,” he says brightly, like he sees nothing wrong with this.
“What the fuck, Mason?”
“Come on. Hop to or whatever.”
I stare at him in disbelief. He stares back, smiling mildly over the flower arrangement.
“I’m adjusting your regimen,” I snip, swinging out of my parking spot and back onto the road
“Oh?” I can faintly see Mason’s smile widening in the corner of my eye. “Do tell.”
“I’m adding an abdomen exercise. You know the one.”
“You’re going to tickle me as punishment for my behavior?” He gives me that lighthearted, skeptical look that sets my heart aflutter. “You say you have no kinks, but I’m starting to think you’re a dirty, rotten liar, Cameron Morelli.”
I slide up into my driveway and park the car, then snap my seat belt back.
Mason kicks open the driver’s door, scoops the flowers off the passenger seat, and clambers out.
I follow after him with a huff, snatching his backpack off the floor and hiking it onto my shoulder.
The unexpected weight nearly staggers me.
“What the hell do you have in here that’s so heavy?” I demand.
He merely gestures at me to follow him to the front door. Sighing, I do, the obedient lapdog that I am. I fumble for my keys and jam them in the lock, then push through into the ranch house and flick the lights on. I’m not expecting anything to be out of the ordinary.
Except it is.
There are a ton of paint supplies organized atop a white sheet on the kitchen table. On the floor of the living room are an assortment of board games, all meticulously prepared so no setup is required. I blink, trying to process what I’m seeing.
Mason unzips his backpack and heads to the table of paint supplies, then begins to pull out rocks of varying sizes, placing them on the table.
“I texted your dad earlier, asking if he would be able to help before he went to work,” he says softly, not looking back at me.
“I didn’t think he’d go to this extent—I was hoping he could just get the supplies and games out.
But he went a step further. So. Yeah. Surprise? ”
I can’t find the words to respond. All I can do is stare at Mason uselessly.
“I just thought it might be fun to…you know.” He throws me a hesitant peek over his shoulder, before quickly breaking our gazes.
“Also, here. Take these.” He steps toward me and nestles the bouquet of flowers into my arms. “Give them to your mom, okay? It’s been a while since you brought home flowers for her, right? ”
He waits for my response, twisting his fingers near his navel. I can’t even think straight. It seems like such a simple thing, so why am I so baffled?
“Sorry,” Mason says, and that’s what wakes me from my stupor. There’s a trace of panic in his face and his shoulders are stiff with tension. “I should’ve asked first. Maybe this was a bad idea. Sorry. I didn’t mean—”
I sweep Mason into a giant hug, wrenching him off his feet into the air, holding him flat to me.
My eyes are warm and stinging with tears, which melt into the fabric of his peacoat.
“This is the best surprise I’ve ever gotten,” I whisper, holding him aloft easily despite how rigid his limbs are.
“Thanks, water boy. This means…everything.”
Finally, he moves, wrapping his arms and legs around me when he realizes I have no intention of putting him down. “I just wanted you to know that I think you’re lovely,” he says into my shoulder. “You don’t have to hide anything from me. Okay?”
I snuggled my face deep into the crook of his neck, smiling. “Okay.”
So we paint some rocks. We play some board games. I give those flowers to my mom.
Suddenly, I feel like I’m breathing for the first time in years.