CHAPTER 4 The Game We Shouldn’t Be Playing #2
“He punched me first.”
“You shoved him.”
“He hooked me.”
“You’re both children.”
“Professional children.”
I stared at his lip.
“You’re bleeding.”
His eyebrow lifted.
“You worried?”
“No.”
“Liar.”
“I’m annoyed.”
“Also true.”
He stopped in front of me.
Close.
Not lodge close.
Public close.
Which somehow felt more dangerous.
“You came.”
“I usually come to Noah’s games.”
“Sure.”
“I do.”
“And the text had nothing to do with it.”
“Absolutely nothing.”
Mason smiled.
I looked down at his shoes.
Anything but his face.
“You didn’t wear the boots.”
“They were retired.”
“Coward.”
“I nearly died in those.”
“You slipped once.”
“You’re impossible.”
“That’s becoming your favorite compliment.”
“It’s not a compliment.”
He leaned slightly closer.
“Still sounds affectionate.”
I looked up.
Mistake.
The playful edge was back.
But there was something else beneath it now.
Last night’s almost-kiss lived between us.
Neither of us had forgotten.
“You shouldn’t be here,” I said.
“It’s an arena.”
“You know what I mean.”
“So do you.”
Footsteps echoed from a nearby hallway.
We both stepped apart automatically.
That scared me.
We were already acting guilty.
Nothing had happened.
Yet.
A member of arena staff passed us.
Mason waited until the corridor was empty again.
Then he held something out.
My camera battery.
“You actually brought it.”
“I’m a man of honor.”
“You punched my brother an hour ago.”
“Unrelated.”
I took the battery.
Our fingers brushed.
The contact lasted less than a second.
Still too much.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
I slipped it into my bag.
There.
Done.
Reason for seeing Mason officially eliminated.
I should leave.
Instead, I stayed.
He stayed too.
“This is the part where normal people say goodbye,” I said.
“Are we normal people?”
“No.”
“Good.”
My heart started doing something inconvenient.
“Mason.”
“Coffee.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“Have coffee with me.”
I actually laughed.
“No.”
“You answered very quickly.”
“Because it’s a terrible idea.”
“It’s coffee.”
“With you.”
“Exactly.”
“That makes it worse.”
He smiled.
“One cup.”
“No.”
“Twenty minutes.”
“No.”
“Fifteen.”
“This isn’t a negotiation.”
“Everything is a negotiation.”
“Not this.”
Mason’s smile faded slightly.
“Why?”
I stared at him.
“Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“You’re my brother’s rival.”
“I know.”
“You punched him.”
“Technically—”
“Mason.”
“Fine.”
He slid his hands into his pockets.
“What else?”
“What else?”
“Yes.”
“That’s enough.”
“No, it isn’t.”
The playfulness disappeared.
“I want coffee with you. You want coffee with me.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
“You’re incredibly arrogant.”
“Probably.”
His eyes held mine.
“But I’m not wrong.”
I hated that my silence answered him.
Mason stepped closer.
“Fifteen minutes.”
I shook my head.
“Noah could walk out any second.”
“That’s why there’s a coffee place two blocks away.”
I stared.
“You planned this.”
“I considered possibilities.”
“That is somehow worse.”
“Emma.”
The sound of my name changed everything.
No nickname.
No Bennett.
Emma.
His voice softened.
“Have coffee with me.”
I knew what saying yes meant.
Not publicly.
Not dramatically.
But personally.
At the lodge, I had no choice.
Tonight, I did.
If I followed Mason out of the arena, I couldn’t blame the storm.
I couldn’t blame a dead car.
I couldn’t pretend circumstance had forced us together.
This would be mine.
My choice.
“Yes.”
Mason went very still.
Then he smiled.
Not the arrogant smile.
Something quieter.
More dangerous.
“Fifteen minutes.”
“Fifteen.”
“Twenty.”
“Mason.”
“Worth trying.”
We left separately.
That had been his idea.
Which should have made me reconsider the entire situation.
Instead, ten minutes later, I walked into a small café on a side street near the arena.
Mason was already there.
Baseball cap.
Dark coat.
Back corner.
He looked absurdly suspicious.
I sat across from him.
“This is ridiculous.”
“I’m famous.”
“You’re modest too.”
“A dangerous combination.”
He slid a coffee toward me.
I stared.
“You ordered for me?”
“Vanilla latte.”
“How do you know what I drink?”
“You ordered one at the lodge.”
I blinked.
He remembered.
That shouldn’t have mattered.
It did.
“You notice too much.”
“So do you.”
I took the coffee.
“Fifteen minutes.”
“Clock hasn’t started.”
“It started when I walked in.”
“Unfair.”
I smiled.
Mason watched me.
Then his expression changed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“No.”
“What?”
“You did that thing again.”
“What thing?”
“Smiled at me.”
My smile disappeared.
He leaned back.
“There. Gone.”
“Don’t make it weird.”
“It was already weird.”
I looked around.
The café was nearly empty.
A student worked on a laptop near the window.
Two women talked quietly near the counter.
Nobody seemed to recognize Mason.
For the first time, we were together somewhere because we chose to be.
It felt strangely intimate.
“How’s your lip?”
“Devastatingly injured.”
“Good.”
“Cruel.”
“You deserved it.”
“Your brother deserved his.”
“That is not how family loyalty works.”
“So you always take his side?”
“Yes.”
“Even when he’s wrong?”
I hesitated.
Mason noticed.
“Interesting.”
“Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were about to.”
He took a sip of coffee.
“Does he know you’re here?”
“No.”
That answer sounded louder than it should have.
Mason lowered his cup.
“Does that bother you?”
“Yes.”
“Want to leave?”
“No.”
The word came without hesitation.
His gaze sharpened.
Neither of us spoke for a second.
There it was again.
Choice.
I was here.
I wanted to be here.
That scared me.
“So,” I said, “why coffee?”
“I wanted to see you.”
Direct.
No joke.
No escape.
My heartbeat stumbled.
“You saw me at the game.”
“Not the same.”
“Why?”
“Because you were watching your brother.”
“And?”
“And I wanted you looking at me.”
Heat climbed my neck.
“That is possibly the most arrogant sentence you’ve ever said.”
“Also true.”
I shook my head.
“You’re unbelievable.”
Mason leaned forward.
“Did you think about me?”
“No.”
“Emma.”
“Fine.”
I looked into my cup.
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Don’t ruin the moment.”
He smiled.
“You thought about me.”
“You texted me.”
“Once.”
“You didn’t text again.”
There.
I had said it.
Mason’s smile slowly disappeared.
“You noticed.”
I immediately regretted everything.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I was busy.”
“Sure.”
“You’re very annoying.”
“Why didn’t you text me?”
I looked at him.
“You’re asking why I didn’t text you?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you text me?”
“Because I wanted to.”
I frowned.
“That makes no sense.”
“It does.”
“Explain.”
Mason rubbed his thumb along the rim of his cup.
“I didn’t want to push you.”
That answer surprised me.
“You?”
“I possess restraint.”
“Debatable.”
He smiled faintly.
“Your brother was angry.”
“That never stopped you before.”
“This isn’t about him.”
Something in his tone changed.
“It’s about you.”
I became still.
“If you wanted to see me again, I wanted it to be your decision.”
My chest tightened.
I thought about the lodge.
Tell me to stop.
He had asked then too.
Always arrogant until the moment something actually mattered.
Then suddenly careful.
That was becoming difficult to ignore.
“It was my decision,” I said.
Mason’s eyes met mine.
“Yes.”
The word sounded almost satisfied.
I checked the time.