Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
The sun is relentless today—sharp, white light bouncing off the sand, making my eyes squint behind my glasses.
I’m kneeling beside a patch of Pitcher’s Thistle, trying to capture a clear photo of a bumblebee before it flies away.
My research notebook lies open beside me, pages flapping in the breeze, tally marks smudged with sunscreen from my fingers.
Out of habit, my gaze drifts toward the lifeguard tower. Mason’s there, arms crossed over his chest, scanning the water. His curls are tucked beneath a baseball cap today, the bill shielding his eyes from the sun.
I glance away before I can get caught staring. Again.
A shadow moves in the corner of my vision, and I look back just in time to see Mason pull out his phone and step down from the tower, leaving it occupied by his coworker.
As he answers the call, his expression becomes tense. He walks a few yards down the beach, phone pressed to his ear, pacing frantically.
My stomach drops. Whatever he’s talking about on the phone, it doesn’t seem to be good news.
I try to return to my data collection, but I’m distracted by the quick, clipped way he’s talking. He anxiously runs a hand through his hair, looking out to the lake with his teeth gnawing his bottom lip.
When he hangs up, he doesn’t go back to the tower. Instead, he jogs straight toward me.
“Hey.” He’s slightly out of breath, sand sticking to his sweaty calves.
“What’s going on?” My voice comes out quicker than I mean it to. My brain is already cycling through worst-case scenarios—someone’s hurt, something happened to Maddie, a family emergency.
He shakes his head, exhaling like he’s trying to settle himself. “That was Maddie. She had plans to go see her favorite boyband tonight—Harmony Heartz—in Shelby Harbor with her friends. She’s been really looking forward to it.”
I blink, waiting for him to elaborate. But he doesn’t.
“…Okay?”
He swallows. “Her friend’s parents were supposed to drive them, but their car broke down,” he says. “They offered me their extra tickets if I can get them there.”
It takes me a moment to process what he’s trying to say. My face softens.
“Wait—” I raise an eyebrow. “Mason, are you asking me to come with you to a boyband concert with your teenage sister and her friends?”
He grins, a little sheepish. “I mean… when you say it like that, it sounds ridiculous.”
“It is ridiculous.”
“So… is that a no?”
I pretend to consider my options, tapping my finger on my lips. “Let me think. A Friday night surrounded by screaming teenage girls, glitter, and boys lip-syncing in matching outfits…”
“C’mon,” he pleads, pouting adorably. “It’ll be fun! Maddie’s wanted to see this dumb boyband for years. I’m not gonna let her miss it. If you come with me, I’ll even buy you an overpriced beer at the venue.”
I roll my eyes, but there’s something about the way he talks about Maddie that always makes me melt. Besides, it’s not like I have anything better to do tonight besides moping around my empty house and watching trashy reality television.
My lips twitch into a smile. “Fine. I’m in. But we’re taking my car—it’s roomier than your pickup.”
He smirks, gaze flickering to my lips. “Thank you. God, I wanna kiss you so bad right now.”
Heat crawls up my neck. “Later?”
“Later,” he promises, gently squeezing my elbow. “Swing by my place around 4:00?”
“I’ll see you then.”
He waves at me before returning to the lifeguard tower.
I plop down in the sand, cross-legged, and pull out my phone to promptly Google “Harmony Heartz.”
What the hell did I just agree to?
***
When I pull into Mason’s driveway, my car hums to a stop behind his battered pickup. I park and glance at my reflection in the visor mirror.
Thankfully, my hair is still holding up after applying copious amounts of gel.
I smooth my hands down the front of my button-up, the light pink fabric dotted with tiny white flowers.
I painted my nails a coral color to match.
I might have gone a little overboard by rolling the cuffs of my slim black jeans and wearing my favorite Converse sneakers—but if I’m going to a boyband concert, I’m leaning into it.
I knock, and the door swings open almost immediately.
Mason’s standing there, halfway through a sentence—“Hey, we’re almost rea—” but then he stops. His gaze trails down me in a slow sweep before flicking back to my face.
He blinks. “Uh.” His hand tightens around the edge of the doorframe. “Hi.”
“Hi,” I say, amused at the faint hitch in his voice.
“You, uh…” He clears his throat, shifting on his feet like he can’t decide if he wants to lean against the door or stand up straight. “You look… nice.”
I smirk. “You sound surprised.”
“Not surprised,” he says quickly. “Just, um… distracted. In a good way.”
Before I can push that further, a burst of energy comes barreling down the hall.
Maddie’s dark blonde hair is curled to perfection in neat ringlets. Her cheeks are dusted with pink glitter on top of freckles that look just like Mason’s.
“Hey! You must be Hunter!” she says cheerily.
I nod. “I am. It’s nice to finally meet you, Maddie.”
“You too. Mason’s told me so much about you,” she says with a teasing grin on her face.
Mason nudges her in the ribs. “Shut up, you brat.”
She giggles and slips on her shoes. “Alright, let’s go!” she says, shoving Mason out the door. “We gotta pick up Bella and Leah. I don’t want to miss the opening act!”
“Chill out, Mads,” Mason says. “We won’t be late.”
We step outside, and Maddie halts in the driveway the second she spots my car. Her eyes go wide as she turns to Mason. “You didn’t tell me Hunter was rich!”
Heat creeps up the back of my neck. Great. I know the car’s over the top—sleek, shiny, and obnoxious as hell. Landon and I got matching ones for our eighteenth birthdays, a flashy reminder of just how out of touch our parents can be.
“Be nice, Mads,” he warns, climbing into the passenger seat.
“I am being nice! I think it’s cool you have a rich friend.”
“I’m sorry about her,” he mutters with an apologetic half-smile. “No filter.”
“I gathered,” I huff, hitting the start button.
We pick up Maddie’s friends Leah and Bella, who pile into the backseat with Maddie, instantly smushed together in a blur of feather boas, laughter, and sequins.
Within seconds, they’re deep into a debate over which Harmony Heartz member is superior—apparently, Noah is overrated, Amir is definitely the most talented singer, and Carlos is the best dancer.
Mason just stares out the window, cheek against the glass.
The drive to Shelby Harbor is bathed in gold, the lake flashing between trees as we follow the highway along the shoreline. The girls’ chatter morphs into background noise. Mason glances at me a few times, as if checking to see if I’m regretting my decision to come along.
I’m not.
By the time we reach Shelby Harbor’s arena, the parking lot is already a frenzy of cars inching along. People in matching tour T-shirts spill onto sidewalks. I squeeze my car between two oversized SUVs, the parking space so tight I have to fold in my side mirrors.
Maddie bounces in her seat. “Oh my God, we’re here!”
Mason lets out a deep breath like he’s bracing for impact.
I grin, turning off the car. “Ready for this?”
He shakes his head. “Not even close.”
We join the stream of fans funneling toward the arena doors, where a long line snakes toward the metal detectors. Mason groans under his breath.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
Before he can answer, Maddie pipes up, “Mason’s pump sets off the detectors sometimes.”
My stomach dips. I’d never even considered that.
Sure enough, the moment Mason steps through, the detector flashes red and blares loudly.
A crowd of curious heads snap toward him, and I know he hates the added attention.
A security guard waves him to the side, and the rest of us shuffle forward without issue.
We wait just past the gates as he gets a thorough pat down, his jaw tight, eyes fixed on some distant point beyond the crowd.
When he finally rejoins us, his shirt is rumpled and there’s a flush creeping up his neck.
“Let’s find our seats,” he says briskly, ushering the girls toward the escalators.
We climb to the upper level and wind our way through a sea of fans, creeping at a snail’s pace until we reach our section.
The girls claim the three seats in front and start trading handmade friendship bracelets with nearby fans.
Mason and I take the two just behind them, the arena buzzing around us.
I glance over. His shoulders are hunched, hands clasped tightly between his knees.
“You okay?” I ask quietly.
“I’m fine,” he says, but his voice is tight. “Crowds just make me uncomfortable. And I hate when my diabetes turns into some kind of public spectacle. Feels like everyone’s staring, even when they’re not.”
A frown tugs at my lips. “I’m sorry, Mase.”
The lights dim suddenly, a wave of screams erupting from every corner of the arena. Maddie turns around, eyes sparkling. “The opener is starting!”
Mason forces a smile for her sake, but when his gaze drifts back to the stage, I see the truth in his posture. His shoulders are locked, spine rigid, every muscle strung tight beneath his shirt.
A boy with an acoustic guitar takes the stage. I vaguely remember him from some TV talent show a few years back. His voice is decent, and I recognize one of his songs from the radio.
“I’m gonna grab a beer. Want one?” Mason asks abruptly.
“Um, sure. Thanks.”
He grunts in response, sliding past the knees of the people in our row and disappearing into the crowd.
During the next song transition, Maddie turns toward me, narrowing her eyes. They’re the same color as Mason’s. “So… you and Mase have gotten pretty close, huh?”
I swallow. “Um, I guess so.”
“He told me you’re only in Claremont Shores for the summer, doing research.”
“That’s right.”
Her brow arches. “And after summer? Still gonna be… friends?” she asks slowly.