CHAPTER 5 Crossing the Line #2
“What does that even mean?”
“Safe career. Safe boyfriend. Sunday dinner with your parents.”
“That is bizarrely specific.”
“Your brother talks about you.”
That stopped me.
“Noah talks about me to you?”
“Used to.”
Before Lily.
I understood.
“What did he say?”
Mason looked into his water.
“That you were smarter than him.”
“True.”
“That you photographed everything.”
“Also true.”
“That you once broke his nose with a baseball.”
I smiled.
“He deserved it.”
“Of course.”
Mason looked at me.
“He was proud of you.”
The past tense hurt.
“Was?”
“He probably still is.”
“But you wouldn’t know.”
“No.”
I stared at the candle.
For all their hatred, there had once been friendship.
That made the rivalry sadder somehow.
“Do you miss him?”
Mason’s face changed.
“No.”
Too fast.
I smiled slightly.
“You’re bad at lying.”
“Occupational hazard.”
“You miss him.”
Mason looked out the window.
“Sometimes I miss who we were before everything got complicated.”
That answer stayed with me.
I understood it more than he probably realized.
“Do you think you’ll ever forgive each other?”
“I don’t know.”
“Would you want to?”
His gaze returned to mine.
“I’m sitting across from his sister on a date.”
My heart stopped.
“This is a date?”
Mason’s eyebrow lifted.
“We drove twenty minutes to a restaurant after you secretly attended my game.”
“Secretly is dramatic.”
“You’re lying to your brother about being here.”
“I’m not lying.”
“Does he know?”
“No.”
Mason smiled.
“Date.”
I hated that he was right.
Again.
“Fine.”
“Fine?”
“It might be a date.”
His smile widened.
“Careful. That almost sounded enthusiastic.”
“Don’t ruin it.”
“I’m trying.”
We stayed longer than planned.
Of course we did.
Dinner became dessert.
Dessert became coffee.
Conversation moved from hockey to photography to childhood.
Mason told me he once worked summers at a hardware store.
I told him I nearly failed chemistry because I spent every class editing photographs.
He showed me a scar on his hand from falling through a frozen pond when he was nine.
I admitted I hated horror movies but watched them anyway.
Every detail made the situation worse.
Because attraction could be dismissed.
A kiss could be blamed on chemistry.
But liking someone?
That required involvement.
By the time we left, it was after eleven.
The parking lot was almost empty.
Mason walked me toward my car.
I stopped beneath a streetlight.
“I should go.”
“Yes.”
Neither of us moved.
Again.
This had become a pattern.
Mason looked at me.
“You’re nervous.”
“No.”
“You’re terrible at lying too.”
“I’m calculating how quickly Noah could drive here if he discovered this.”
“Three hours.”
“You’ve thought about it?”
“Repeatedly.”
I laughed.
Then Mason stepped closer.
The laughter disappeared.
His hand moved to my waist.
Slowly.
Giving me every opportunity to stop him.
I didn’t.
His eyes dropped to my mouth.
“You said next time you weren’t stopping after two kisses,” I whispered.
His gaze sharpened.
“You remembered.”
“Hard sentence to forget.”
Mason leaned closer.
“Still want me to prove it?”
Every rational thought disappeared.
“Yes.”
He kissed me.
This time there was no hesitation.
No testing.
His mouth met mine with a confidence that made my knees weak.
I grabbed the front of his jacket.
He pulled me closer.
The cold night vanished.
Mason kissed differently now that he knew I wanted him.
Slower when he wanted to torture me.
Deeper when I tried to take control.
I hated how quickly I learned him.
Hated how much I wanted more.
His hand moved along my back.
Not too far.
Always controlled.
That somehow made everything hotter.
I broke the kiss long enough to breathe.
“This is still a terrible idea.”
“Yes.”
“You agree too much.”
“I’m distracted.”
I smiled against his mouth.
He kissed me again.
Three kisses became four.
Then five.
I stopped counting.
At some point, my back touched the side of my car.
Mason’s hand settled beside my head.
He looked at me.
Really looked.
“Emma.”
Something in his voice made me stop.
“What?”
“If this goes further…”
My pulse accelerated.
He didn’t finish.
He didn’t need to.
I knew what he meant.
This wasn’t about sex.
Not exactly.
It was about consequences.
Desire could still be dismissed as a mistake.
Choosing more would be harder.
I placed my hand against his chest.
His heartbeat was fast beneath my palm.
“We’re not doing anything tonight.”
Mason nodded immediately.
“Okay.”
“You’re disappointed.”
“Yes.”
I laughed.
“Honesty.”
“You asked.”
“But you’re not going to argue?”
“No.”
“Why?”
His expression softened.
“Because I want you when you don’t have to second-guess yourself afterward.”
That silenced me.
Mason brushed his thumb over my cheek.
“And because if this happens…”
His eyes held mine.
“I don’t want it to be something you regret before you even leave the room.”
Heat and something deeper moved through my chest.
I kissed him first.
This one was softer.
Not less intense.
Just different.
When we separated, Mason rested his forehead against mine.
“Dangerous woman.”
I smiled.
“You started this.”
“You flipped me off first.”
“That is not flirting.”
“It was memorable.”
I laughed.
Then my phone buzzed.
Reality.
Again.
I checked it.
Noah.
My heart dropped.
**How was the gallery?**
I stared at the screen.
Mason saw my expression.
“You told him gallery?”
“There is a gallery.”
“Did you go?”
“For eleven minutes.”
Mason laughed.
“This is not funny.”
“It’s a little funny.”
“No.”
Another message appeared.
**Call me when you get home.**
Guilt moved through me.
I locked the phone.
Mason stepped back.
“Go.”
I looked at him.
“That sounded like an order.”
“Request.”
“Better.”
He opened my car door.
I got inside.
Before closing it, I looked up.
“When will I see you again?”
The question escaped before I could stop it.
Mason went still.
Then his smile appeared.
Slowly.
“Whenever you want.”
That answer did something unpleasantly warm to my chest.
I closed the door.
The drive back to Seattle felt much shorter than the drive down.
Maybe because I replayed the night for most of it.
Mason smiling after scoring.
Dinner.
His hand at my waist.
His mouth.
The way he had stopped before I needed to ask.
The way he said whenever you want.
By the time I reached my apartment, it was after two.
I called Noah from the parking garage.
“You home?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“How was the gallery?”
“Good.”
Another technical truth.
The eleven minutes had been enjoyable.
“You sound tired.”
“Long drive.”
“Go sleep.”
“I will.”
“Emma.”
“What?”
He hesitated.
Then: “You’d tell me if something was wrong, right?”
Guilt hit me hard.
“Yes.”
He exhaled.
“Okay.”
“Goodnight.”
“Night.”
The call ended.
I sat in my car for a long moment.
I was officially lying to my brother.
Not directly.
Not completely.
But enough.
And I hated that.
I told myself I would figure it out.
Tomorrow.
Eventually.
Before this became serious.
Then my phone buzzed.
Mason.
**Home?**
I smiled.
**Yes.**
**Good.**
Then:
**Tonight was my favorite game this season.**
I typed:
**Because you scored?**
His answer came immediately.
**Because you were there.**
My chest tightened.
I stared at the message longer than I should have.
Then I saw another notification.
Instagram.
Claire had tagged me in something.
I opened it.
At first, I didn’t understand what I was seeing.
A sports account.
A photograph from tonight’s game.
Mason celebrating after his goal.
Nothing unusual.
Then I saw the caption.
**Mason Cole had someone specific in mind after that goal tonight ??**
My stomach dropped.
The post included two images.
The first showed Mason looking into the crowd.
The second was zoomed toward my section.
Toward me.
My face wasn’t perfectly clear.
But it was clear enough.
The comments were already multiplying.
**Who is she?**
**New girlfriend?**
**He definitely knows her.**
**Wait… is that Noah Bennett’s sister???**
My blood went cold.
“No.”
I refreshed.
More comments.
Someone had posted an old photograph of me and Noah from a charity event.
Side by side comparison.
**THAT IS EMMA BENNETT.**
My phone nearly slipped from my hand.
A new text arrived.
Claire.
**Emma. We have a problem.**
Then another.
Mason.
**Don’t panic.**
Too late.
Another notification.
Another tag.
Another hockey account had reposted the photograph.
Then my phone rang.
Noah.
I stared at his name.
Every muscle in my body froze.
The phone continued ringing.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
I answered.
“Hey.”
Silence.
Then my brother spoke.
Very calmly.
Too calmly.
“Why is there a picture of you at Mason Cole’s game?”
My stomach dropped.
I closed my eyes.
And for the first time since the snowstorm, there was nowhere left to hide.