Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Jennifer
Idon’t remember much of Jacob or Mase from our high school years, but funnily enough, I do remember the first day I saw each of them.
Jacob’s locker was right next to mine, and I remember thinking he was kind of cute when I first said hello to him. But that’s as far as that thought went.
I’d spotted Mase standing around the corner, leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets, staring at the ground. He looked lonely, almost sad, and I was seconds away from talking to him.
But then he’d sucked in a breath, pushed off the wall, and walked past me to ruffle Jacob’s hair like he was trying to annoy him.
That afternoon, I was paired with Marni and Jersey for some class thing that I don’t remember, and after that, me, Mase, and Jacob belonged to very different friend groups.
I’ve often wondered over the past couple of years how things would have turned out if I was never paired up with the girls. What would have happened if I’d stayed and talked to Jacob and Mase and became friends with them. What would have happened if I was sick that day.
All the what-ifs.
“Would you consider coming back to my place for two hundred cash?”
I’m startled back to the present, the music, the chatter, the man I’m dancing for all coming back into focus. I had been on autopilot, so lost in my own thoughts about the past that I hadn’t realized how much time had passed.
My gut twists. “I’m not a prostitute.”
He doesn’t even look at my face as he snorts, his eyes glued to my chest. “Close enough.”
Thankfully, his time is already up, and I get up from his lap. “The answer is no.”
“But what about—”
I don’t wait for his next offer before I walk away, resisting a full body shiver.
As I move through the floor, I find myself thinking back to last night again. I had debated going to his class for days before I finally made it there. Then it took Mase opening the door in front of me before I could force myself inside.
All because I didn’t want to make anything easier on myself.
The class had been an experience all on its own, but it’s the events after that, that have been circling my mind.
Mase stopped those men from pursuing me. But he didn’t just stop them; he incapacitated the handsy guy who had followed me to my front door, without even using his fists.
And he made it look easy.
I guess he is a self-defense instructor, so it shouldn’t be surprising. But the way he moved with such precision and strength was almost mesmerizing.
I just can’t figure out what he was even doing there. He couldn’t have followed me, because I caught the bus while he was still at the gym. And I don’t see how he could have gotten my address since I don’t have it listed anywhere.
Regardless of how he ended up there, he was there, and at the perfect time.
I had run inside shaken up, so I didn’t even see what happened next. I’m not sure whether Mase had stuck around and fought some more, or if he drove off after he took the first guy down.
But what if he got hurt?
No.
Mase knew exactly what he was doing and what he was getting into.
I could tell he was built well when I first laid eyes on him at the club, but last night confirmed it.
I saw exactly what he was working with at the self-defense class. It’s the first time in a very long time that I looked at a man’s physique without having a negative reaction. Defined muscles filled out his arms and shoulders, and even his legs were toned and muscular.
Grateful is hardly a good enough word to describe how I feel about him being there.
But then that voice speaks up again, reminding me that I would have deserved whatever happened to me had he not been there.
Swallowing, I set my shoulders back and approach the next person requesting a dance.
A couple of hours later, I exit as usual through the side door, dropping a twenty along with a cookie off with the homeless man, ready to face whoever turns up outside my apartment tonight.
Perhaps I can use one of the moves Mase had taught in his class, or even try the same one I saw him use.
And if that doesn’t work? Well . . . I’m prepared to face that as well.
I turn the corner out of the alley but come to an abrupt stop when I see Mase leaning against the wall. What the hell? Obviously, I was getting too comfortable with my life, so the universe decided to plant Mase in it just to fuck with me.
He pushes away from the wall as soon as he sees me, like he’s been waiting for me to appear.
Tonight, he’s dressed in dark green cargo pants with an unzipped black canvas jacket over a black T-shirt. I notice the Timberlands on his feet, and his wavy hair perfectly messy.
Sucking in a breath, I force my legs to move again, stopping when I’m in front of him. “What are you doing here?”
If the nearby lamppost didn’t cast a soft glow over him, he’d blend into the night itself with his dark clothing and features.
“Just checking on you after last night.”
“At two a.m.?” I ask skeptically.
He shrugs.
Remembering my manners, and the fact that he did, in fact, save me, I exhale. “Well, I did want to thank you for what you did . . . last night.”
A muscle in his jaw moves. “There’s no way I would have let them touch a fucking hair on your head.”
I blink at the protectiveness in his voice, wrapping my jacket tighter. “How did you even find me?”
“It was by accident, actually. I missed a turn and ended up on your street.”
Nodding, I chew on my lip and think about the odds of him ending up there at the same time I needed him. Probably slim-to-none. “The one you knocked down . . . He was, um, kicked out of the club for harassing me a few days ago.”
I’m not sure why I’m telling him this. I should have simply said thank you and kept walking.
Mase’s lips purse. “So, he followed you?”
“No, not from the club. He was near my apartment when I was going home the same night it happened, and he saw me.”
His eyes narrow. “Did he try something then as well?”
I glance away, remembering my night spent on the bathroom floor while holding the knife. “I made it inside okay.” Luckily, he hadn’t made another appearance until last night.
Mase runs a hand through his hair, jaw still tight. “Well, I’m glad you ended up coming to my class.”
His eyes linger for a moment. Is he connecting the dots as to why I changed my mind about the class he offered? Can he see how fucking scared I was?
Okay, time for me to leave.
“Sure. Anyway, I’m okay.” I adjust my cap, ready to keep walking. “Thank you again. And goodnight.” I continue past him, not leaving room for more conversation.
I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about Mase turning up outside my work to check on me.
My stride is brisk as I walk down the street and around the corner to the bus stop, only looking over my shoulder once. No one else is there when I arrive, which is usual at this hour.
I stand close to a nearby post, hugging my jacket tighter as I wait for the bus to arrive. God, I’m not looking forward to this trip once the snow comes.
I tip my head back to look up at the sky, but a shadow moving in my periphery makes me whip my head to the side. It’s then that I notice Mase walking toward where I’m standing, coming to a stop when he’s a short distance away.
Brows drawn, I watch him for a moment, but he doesn’t glance at me, doesn’t try to speak to me again or stand beside me. He just stands quietly, as if he’s waiting for the bus as well, with his hands in his pockets.
What are you doing, Mase?
I glance around, as if the answer will pop out from somewhere nearby, but it doesn’t.
A short while later, the bus arrives and I get on . . . and so does Mase. I sit a couple of seats away from the front, while Mase moves halfway down the rows before sitting. He’s not looking at me when I peek over my shoulder at him, so I turn back around, my frown deepening.
Does he really expect me to believe he needed to catch the same bus at almost two-thirty in the morning?
I spend the rest of the trip staring out the window, watching the buildings streak by in a blur while my mind is on the person a few rows back.
Once it’s my stop, I briefly contemplate staying on just to see what Mase does.
But it’s late and I’m tired, so I get off as usual, unsurprised when he gets off as well.
After walking a block, I stop and spin around, waiting for him to come closer since he’s been keeping a good distance between us.
“What are you doing?”
Slowing his steps, he shrugs and looks around like he’s gauging our surroundings. “Well, I figure you wouldn’t have accepted a ride from me.”
“A ride?” No, I wouldn’t have, but that doesn’t answer my question.
When I don’t say anything more, waiting for him to elaborate, he puffs his cheeks and releases them. “I wanted to make sure you got home safely.”
I stare at him. “You waited around for me to finish so you could walk me home?”
“I waited around to make sure you were safe,” he corrects.
“Well, you didn’t need to. I’ve been getting by on my own and getting myself home just fine for two years now.”
“And last night?” he asks with a curved brow and straight lips. “It wasn’t even late, not like this, and you were getting harassed.”
I fold my arms across my chest, my arm slightly stinging. “That was a one-off thing.” I try to sound casual, try to sound as if I wasn’t petrified the moment I saw those two men coming toward me.
“I guess this is, too. A one-off thing, I mean.” He sweeps his hand out in an “after you” gesture, then waits for me to start walking again.
God, why does he even care?
Feeling a little thrown off, as well as frustrated, I turn around and keep walking. I don’t need his protection. I don’t deserve his protection.
Nevertheless, the sheer relief of having it makes me want to burst into tears as I walk.