CHAPTER FIVE
ROWAN
Mason Reed was staring at me like he wanted to start a fight or kiss me stupid.
Honestly, with him, it could go either way.
“Who is that?” Caleb asked beside me, following my line of sight toward the living room.
“Basketball player.”
“That tells me absolutely nothing at this school.”
Fair.
Blackthorne produced athletes the way rich people produced disappointments.
Caleb leaned against the kitchen counter beside me, still talking about some photography exhibit downtown while I pretended to listen.
In reality, I could feel Mason’s attention from across the apartment like a hand between my shoulder blades.
Annoying.
Worse:
I was aware of him too.
Too aware.
The girl hanging off him earlier had disappeared, but not before noticing me looking.
Embarrassing.
Humiliating.
Needed to die immediately.
“So then the professor says—”
“Sorry,” I interrupted. “What?”
Caleb laughed. “You’re distracted.”
“No, I’m not.”
“You’ve looked at that guy like six times.”
I grabbed my drink defensively. “I literally haven’t.”
“Rowan.”
Shit.
Before I could recover, Serena appeared beside me holding tequila shots.
“You look stressed,” she announced.
“I am.”
“Good thing I brought medicine.”
Caleb accepted one immediately.
I narrowed my eyes. “You are the reason bad things happen.”
“Correct.”
We took the shots together while music pounded through the apartment walls.
The alcohol burned pleasantly down my throat.
Better.
Across the room, Mason was still watching me.
Not constantly.
Not creepily.
Just enough.
Like every time I looked up, his attention eventually found me again.
Which was becoming a problem.
Because attraction was one thing.
Manageable.
But awareness?
Awareness was dangerous.
“You should hook up with him,” Serena said casually.
I nearly choked.
“Absolutely the fuck not.”
“Oh come on.”
“He’s emotionally unavailable in a very expensive hoodie.”
“That didn’t sound like a no.”
“That was absolutely a no.”
Serena took another shot. “You’re staring at him again.”
I looked away immediately.
Too late.
Mason had already caught it.
God, this man was irritating.
He said something to Jace, handed off his beer, then started walking toward the kitchen.
Toward me.
Immediate panic for literally no reason.
“Why do I suddenly feel hunted?” I muttered.
Serena looked delighted. “Because he’s coming over here looking like a six-foot bad decision.”
“Helpful.”
“Always.”
Caleb noticed too. “Do you know him?”
“Unfortunately.”
Mason reached us a second later smelling like smoke, sweat, and whatever stupid expensive cologne he always wore.
Close up, his hair was slightly damp from either the game shower or the heat inside the apartment.
A small bruise darkened one side of his jaw.
My brain noticed all of this against my will.
“Hayes,” he said.
“Reed.”
His eyes flicked toward Caleb.
“This your boyfriend?”
I blinked once.
Then laughed because the audacity was genuinely unbelievable.
“No.”
“Good.”
Caleb looked between us slowly. “I feel like I walked into something.”
“You did,” Serena said immediately.
Mason ignored both of them, still looking at me.
“You disappeared after practice.”
“You sound disappointed.”
“You sound avoidant.”
I crossed my arms. “You analyze everyone this much or am I special?”
“Little bit special.”
There it was again.
That thing he did where his voice dropped lower unexpectedly and suddenly the air felt different.
Dangerous skill.
I took another drink to compensate.
Mason’s gaze tracked the movement automatically.
His eyes lingered on my mouth for maybe half a second too long.
My stomach flipped.
Horrible.
Caleb cleared his throat awkwardly. “Okay, well. I’m gonna go before whatever this is spreads to me.”
“Smart choice,” I muttered.
Serena immediately followed him out of the kitchen like a coward.
Traitors.
Both of them.
Suddenly it was just me and Mason standing near the counter while drunk strangers screamed lyrics somewhere in the living room.
“You scare your friends away often?” I asked.
“Only the weak ones.”
I snorted softly.
His expression shifted instantly at the sound like he hadn’t expected it.
Then he smiled a little.
Real smile this time.
Smaller.
Less polished.
Fuck.
That one was worse.
“You know,” he said, leaning beside me against the counter, “you’re a lot funnier than your face suggests.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You always look like you’re about to report a crime.”
“I probably am.”
“See? Funny.”
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stop smiling slightly into my drink.
Mason noticed immediately because of course he did.
“There it is again.”
“What?”
“That.”
He pointed vaguely at my mouth.
“You do have facial expressions.”
“I hate this conversation.”
“Liar.”
The apartment lights flickered suddenly as people yelled from the living room.
Someone had apparently climbed onto furniture again.
Blackthorne education at work.
Mason shook his head once under his breath.
“You party this hard every weekend?” I asked.
“Depends.”
“On?”
“How much we’re trying not to think.”
That caught me off guard.
Probably because it sounded honest.
He realized it immediately too.
I watched the wall go back up in real time.
Interesting.
“You always answer serious questions by accident?” I asked quietly.
His eyes met mine.
“Did that sound serious?”
“A little.”
For a second neither of us said anything.
The noise around us blurred slightly.
Mason looked tired again suddenly.
Not physically.
Something underneath it.
Then some blonde girl stumbled into the kitchen yelling his name.
“There you are!”
Her arms wrapped around his neck before he could react.
My stomach dropped instantly.
Ridiculous reaction.
Actually embarrassing.
The girl kissed his cheek sloppily. “You left me downstairs.”
Mason gently caught her wrists. “You were dancing on a table.”
“As I should.”
She finally noticed me standing there.
Then smiled knowingly.
Oh my god.
“I interrupted,” she said immediately.
“You really didn’t,” I answered too fast.
Mason looked at me sharply.
The girl laughed once like she understood something I didn’t want examined too closely.
“Well,” she said, stepping back, “have fun with… whatever the hell this tension is.”
Then she wandered off again before I could evaporate on the spot.
Silence.
I stared hard into my drink.
Mason rubbed a hand over his jaw slowly.
“She’s drunk.”
“Okay.”
“That wasn’t—”
“I literally do not care.”
He went quiet.
Because we both knew that was bullshit.
Music pounded through the apartment walls while tension stretched tighter between us.
Then Mason stepped closer.
Not much.
Enough.
“You jealous, Hayes?”
I looked up immediately.
“Please.”
One side of his mouth lifted slightly.
That almost-smile again.
“You looked jealous.”
“You look delusional.”
“Could be both.”
God.
I should’ve walked away then.
Instead I said:
“You flirt with every girl this much?”
Mason held my gaze for a second too long.
“No.”
And somehow that answer felt worse than if he’d admitted yes.