22. Mason
Mason
The Sig house is quiet this morning. I can see Chase is already up for the day when I roll over and look at his empty bed on the other side of the room.
I’m trying to figure out what alarm is going off that woke me up when I realize that it’s my phone ringing.
I pull it off the nightstand and see that my stepmom is calling, which means the boys are calling.
I sit up and throw my legs off the side of the bed, grab my shirt that I tossed on the floor last night, and pull it on as I answer the call.
Rose fills the screen when the video call connects. It looks like she’s in the kitchen, making breakfast, and I see two little blonde heads at the bottom of the counter next to her.
“Morning, Mason,” she chirps, but I can hear the tiredness under her words.
“Hey, Rose.”
“The boys have been bugging me for days to call you, and we had a little bit of time this morning before we have to head out, so I thought I’d let them talk to you until we have to leave.”
I nod. “Thanks, Rose.”
She hands them the phone, and they instantly start fighting over who gets to hold it.
“Hey! Boys. Can I at least get a hello before I have to play referee from four states away?”
“What’s a state?” Asher asks, still trying to get the phone from Easton.
I roll my eyes, laughing. “Okay, okay, look. Easton, you have the phone now, and then you’ll both take turns holding it, okay?”
“Fine,” they both groan.
Easton takes the phone upstairs into their room and props it up on a toy so I can see them both.
“Hey Mase!” Asher screams, popping his head into the screen, covering most of the camera.
“Dude! Move your big head back a little. You’re so close, I can see your brain.”
They both laugh, and Asher moves back, putting them both into view now.
“I miss you, Mase,” Easton says. “When do you come back?”
“I miss y’all too. I’ll be back for Christmas, okay?”
“How long is that?” Asher asks.
“Um, not too much longer, buddy. It’ll be here before you know it.”
“Are you bringing us gifts?”
“What kind of brother would I be if I didn’t?”
“Not a good one,” Easton mumbles from the side of the screen, already distracted, playing with a toy. “I want more superheroes.”
He starts showing me all the ones in his collection and which ones he still wants. I try to jot them down in my notes app on my phone so I don’t forget.
I always make sure to keep a list of all their current obsessions; I’ve been doing it since they could roll over and reach for things.
Asher was so obsessed with remotes as a baby that I would go and buy him random ones from the store for him to play with.
And they couldn’t be toy ones; they had to be the real deal, or he wouldn’t touch them.
Easton’s first obsession was monster trucks after I had to take him to the dentist when he was little, and they had them in the waiting room.
He instantly became obsessed. He even cried the whole way home until I stopped by the store and got him five.
He was only two and already had me wrapped around his finger.
They both always have, though.
“I want a Xbox!” Asher shouts.
“An Xbox?” I ask, shocked. “What do you know about video games, boy?”
“Everyone at school plays,” he pouts.
“You’re in kindergarten. What is going on? When I was in kindergarten, I was playing outside all day and making girls’ paper rings with candy wrappers.”
“Ew, girls are nasty.”
I throw my head back, laughing. “Well…yeah, some are…but not all.”
“Yeah, huh,” Asher argues. “They have cooties!”
I shake my head, still smiling. I miss these boys so much. I miss their chaotic energy and watching them grow. It seems like that’s happening way faster since I’ve been away at college, and I hate it.
We stay on the phone as long as possible, until Rose comes to find them, telling them they have to get ready to get in the car, and we all say our goodbyes.
Neither one wanted to hang up, whining for Rose to let them stay on the phone.
It broke my heart a little when she finally took the phone away from them and told me goodbye before hanging up.
I could still hear their cries in the back until the click.
Silence takes over the room again, and I stare at the black screen of my phone for a moment.
My throat burns from the emotions, my chest aches.
I feel…heavy, and it hits me pretty hard—I don’t just miss them.
I miss having a family. I miss feeling like somebody wanted me around.
I miss being for them what my mom was for me.
They’re the only people left in the world who make me feel like I matter.
I toss the phone aside, flop back on my bed, and cover my face with my forearm.
Fuck.
Eventually, I force myself to get up and head into the bathroom to shower before heading downstairs.
Last night there was a crazy, way-too-out-of-hand party that I already know will require a mandatory cleanup by all the guys this morning.
Walking out into the hallway after my shower, I can already see the war zone this place currently is. I internally groan and kick a couple of cups out of the way on the floor to clear a path to the stairs.
When I head into the kitchen to grab some ibuprofen, the guys are already up cleaning.
“Where the hell you been, Sinclair?” Tanner asks. “Getting your beauty rest?”
Tank comes over and slaps me on the shoulder. “Nah, he just partied too hard last night, probably had to recover from all the macking he was doing.”
I scrunch my nose up. “Macking? Who is still saying macking?”
Tank waves me off. “Whatever. Sorry, my vocabulary isn’t as fancy as yours, rich boy.”
I honestly don’t remember much of last night. I know I was drinking, but that’s about it.
I do kinda remember some blonde band chick…and the president of the HSA, and…a couple of Kappa girls.
Well, shit.
I swear I had no intentions of hooking up with anyone, but sometimes when the alcohol hits, and the cheers and chants get loud…
I kinda just fall back into bad habits. I like the rush of getting attention.
I like the validation. Call me crazy, but there’s this high to feeling wanted.
It’s the easiest way to convince yourself you actually are.
I walk past the guys, grabbing some medicine and then a Gatorade out of the fridge before taking it and heading into the main area of the house, where I’m sure most of the damage is.
“Geez,” I mutter, stepping over a passed-out first-year who is somehow still asleep on the floor, using a pizza box as a pillow.
“Tank!” I yell. “Get this idiot to a room!”
From the kitchen, Tank yells back, “I call not it! That’s a you problem, sleepyhead!”
I roll my eyes and nudge the kid’s leg with my foot. “Hey. Up. You’re not staying on my floor. We gotta clean under you.”
He still doesn’t move, so I do the decent thing and at least bend down to check for a pulse before finding two other first-years to do the dirty work of moving him for me.
I grab a trash bag from the closet and start moving through the living room, tossing cups, plates, and random crap into it.
Every surface I touch feels sticky. It makes me want to gag.
The whole place smells like beer, old food, and shitty choices that people will just call ‘the good old days’ ten years from now.
Brett comes down the stairs, rubbing his face, hair sticking up everywhere, looking a mess. “Dude. My head.”
“Congratulations,” I say, flatly. “You actually have a brain up there. Grab a bag and start cleaning.”
He flips me off, but still grabs the bag.
I don’t really get along with the guy. He treats girls like garbage on purpose and acts bigger than his britches too often, but we’re all ‘brothers’ here, so I try to be civil around him.
We’ve got music blasting now and have just started to scratch the surface of cleaning this dump when the front doors open and Madison from the Gamma house walks in with a group of girls following behind her.
“The house isn’t really company-ready,” I throw over my shoulder to her as I pick up a questionable cup of chunky liquid that could very well be someone’s vomit.
“Shut up and save it, Sinclair,” she fires back. “You know, you’re lucky we didn’t get kicked off Greek Row last night.”
She steps further into the house, hands on her hips, surveying the chaos like she owns our house the same way she owns hers.
Honestly, she’s kind of terrifying, so I don’t try to push her with any of the jokes I want to make.
“The university sent warnings to both our houses,” she says. “So, as punishment, I brought all the first-years over to help you clean. Consider it…a team-building exercise.”
One of the pledges beside her whispers, “We’re being punished for their mess?”
Madison snaps her fingers without looking at the girl, warning her to shut it.
“All of us represent Greek life,” she says. “Last night was a co-party, so if they go down, we go down too. Now, boys, pick a girl and put her to work.”
Well, this just became a bigger headache.
The guys all instantly perk up like dogs that just heard the word ‘treat’, rushing over to pick the hottest girl they can probably find.
I scan the group of girls, and my gaze lands on Simone. She’s already watching me with a smug look on her face.
Okay, never mind. Maybe this could actually be fun.
“You already know you’re with me,” I tell her, waving her over.
She huffs, arms crossing. “Umm, I think I’d rather go with Tank. He’s nicer.”
From the kitchen, Tank’s head pops out. “Hell yeah, I am.”
I snort. “No, he’s just lazy and won’t make you do anything.”
“Same thing,” she says mockingly.
I can’t help but laugh a little. “Nah, you’re not getting off easy, and I’m in need of some good company this morning.”
I see some of the other Gamma girls roll their eyes like they’re annoyed at her that I didn’t pick them.
Sorry…have better personalities? And maybe stop trying to get in my pants. I’m a respectable young man for crying out loud. I would like to be treated as such.