CHAPTER FOUR
MASON
By Friday night, Rowan Hayes had called me arrogant three times, emotionally constipated twice, and “a professionally manufactured campus narcissist” once.
Honestly?
Could’ve gone worse.
“You’re smiling at your phone again,” Eli said from the driver’s seat.
“I’m literally not.”
“You literally are.”
Jace leaned forward from the backseat between us. “He’s texting the journalist, isn’t he?”
“I hate both of you.”
“THAT’S A YES,” Jace shouted.
I shoved him backward by the face while he cackled like a psychopath.
The team SUV rolled through downtown traffic toward Nolan’s apartment where half the campus was already partying after tonight’s win.
Another win.
Another interview.
Another hundred people yelling my name while cameras flashed in my face.
Normally that feeling lasted longer.
Tonight all I could think about was the fact Rowan had left the arena before I could find her afterward.
Which was fucking weird.
I barely knew the girl.
But somehow every time she walked away from me lately, my brain reacted like she’d slammed a door.
Annoying.
My phone buzzed again in my hand.
Unknown Number:
Your teammate has the emotional maturity of expired yogurt.
I stared at the text.
Then laughed before I could stop myself.
Jace immediately pointed. “THERE IT IS.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“Read it out loud.”
“No.”
“Mason.”
I sighed dramatically. “It’s Rowan.”
Eli looked painfully unsurprised.
Jace grabbed my shoulder hard enough to shake me. “OH MY GOD. THE ENEMIES ARC IS MOVING.”
“She texted me to insult you idiots.”
“Even better.”
Another text came through immediately.
Rowan:
Also your coach scares the shit out of me.
Without thinking, I typed back:
That means he likes you.
Typing bubble appeared.
Disappeared.
Came back.
That’s the worst thing anyone’s ever said to me.
I grinned at my phone like an idiot.
Jace saw it and looked personally offended.
“Oh, he’s gone.”
“Relax.”
“No, because this is how horror movies start.”
Eli parked outside Nolan’s building. “Can we survive one night without Mason developing emotional issues?”
“Too late,” Jace said.
We climbed out into cold night air while music echoed from the apartment complex three floors up.
Already packed.
Of course.
Basketball wins basically turned Blackthorne into a drinking problem with school funding.
The second we walked in, noise hit full force.
Bodies everywhere.
Liquor everywhere.
Someone definitely making out against the kitchen counter already.
Niko appeared holding tequila shots before I even got fully inside.
“My captain!” he yelled dramatically.
“Jesus Christ.”
“You disappeared after the game.”
“I went home.”
Niko looked horrified. “Alone?”
“Believe it or not, some of us enjoy silence.”
“That sounds fake.”
Jace grabbed two shots immediately. “Where’s the journalist?”
I looked around automatically before catching myself.
Bad sign.
Very bad sign.
Niko noticed instantly.
“Ohhhhh,” he said slowly. “You WANT her.”
“I don’t.”
“Your face says different.”
“My face says you’re drunk.”
“Correct,” he agreed proudly.
Someone shoved another drink into my hand while music blasted through the apartment hard enough to shake the walls.
Usually this part was easy.
Drink.
Laugh.
Flirt.
Forget.
Routine.
But tonight my brain kept replaying stupid little moments instead.
Rowan flipping me off from the media section.
Rowan calling me curated.
Rowan looking at me too carefully like she was trying to peel something open.
Dangerous girl.
“Reed!”
A brunette I vaguely recognized wrapped an arm around my neck from behind.
“Thought you were coming to Sigma after.”
“Changed plans.”
“You disappeared before I could congratulate you properly.”
Jace made a disgusted face behind her.
I ignored him.
Barely.
The girl kept talking while touching my chest constantly, but my attention drifted toward the apartment entrance when the front door opened again.
And there she was.
Black jeans.
Oversized leather jacket.
Tiny silver hoop through her nose tonight.
Fuck.
Rowan spotted me immediately across the room.
Then noticed the girl hanging off me.
Something unreadable crossed her expression.
Gone fast.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Jace saw it happen too and whispered:
“Oh this is gonna get messy.”
The brunette followed my gaze. “Who’s that?”
“Nobody,” I answered automatically.
Which apparently was the wrong fucking response because Rowan’s eyes sharpened instantly from across the room.
Like she heard it somehow.
Jesus.
She looked away first this time.
Then disappeared into the kitchen crowd with Serena.
Weird irritation crawled up my neck immediately.
Stupid.
Didn’t make sense.
I barely knew her.
So why did watching her walk away suddenly feel like losing an argument?
The brunette touched my jaw again.
“You listening to me?”
“Not really.”
Her face fell slightly.
Guilt hit immediately.
Right.
Normal people existed outside whatever the hell this Rowan situation was becoming.
“Sorry,” I muttered.
She studied me for a second before glancing toward the kitchen knowingly.
“Oh.”
A small laugh.
“That’s unfortunate.”
“What is?”
“You’re fucked.”
Before I could answer, she squeezed my arm once and disappeared into the crowd.
Helpful.
Jace walked beside me toward the drinks table looking way too entertained.
“You know what’s hilarious?”
“No.”
“You got jealous first.”
“I didn’t get jealous.”
“You absolutely did.”
“Of what?”
“The random dude talking to Rowan in the kitchen.”
I looked over instinctively.
And there she was.
Laughing at something some tall guy said beside the counter.
Not flirting exactly.
But close enough to make something ugly twist low in my stomach.
Fuck.
Jace saw my expression and burst out laughing.
“Oh my GOD.”
“Shut up.”
“You are DOWN HORRENDOUS.”
“I’m gonna kill you.”
“No, seriously,” he gasped. “This is incredible.”
I grabbed a beer harder than necessary.
Across the room, Rowan glanced over again.
Caught me watching her.
Again.
This time neither of us looked away.
The apartment suddenly felt too warm.
Too loud.
Too crowded.
The guy beside Rowan leaned closer to say something near her ear.
My jaw tightened automatically.
And Rowan noticed that too.
Her eyes flicked briefly to my mouth.
Then she smiled.
Not sweet.
Not nice.
Trouble.
Complete fucking trouble.