44. Mason #2
When I push my bedroom door open, it hits something hard, stopping us from being able to get in. Two college kids I’ve never seen before stumble around the door, laughing and obviously wasted.
“Out,” I order, not wanting to think about anyone in my room defiling the very place I lay my head down at night.
They apologize about ten times while fumbling out of the room hand in hand.
As soon as they’re out, I grab Simone and pull her in, locking the door behind us.
She quickly pulls me into her, kissing me as my hands find their way into her hair.
I quickly move my hands to the zipper on the back of her leather jumpsuit and slowly lower it as her lips find the spot on my neck that drives me crazy.
I stop to look at her once she gets her legs out of the skintight shrink wrap she tried to pass off as a costume—teasing me all night. I just stand there, staring in awe of how perfect she is. I don’t even deserve the access she gives me, yet I’m so greedy for it I can’t say no.
“Even in an all-black outfit, you couldn’t go without something being pink,” I tease, watching her lower the strap of her pink, lacy bralette that matches her underwear.
“I thought pink was your favorite color,” she says, voice dripping dangerously with temptation.
I grab the bottle off my side table and take a shot from it while I drink her in, wanting to draw out this little game between us, the one where we tease each other until someone finally snaps and gives in.
“You’re playing a risky game, pretty girl.”
She plays innocent while locking her seductive eyes on mine. “Yet, I don’t think you want me to stop, now do you…” She walks closer, gently tugging on the tied jumpsuit at my waist, “Inmate.”
“I knew you’d like the costume.”
“We can use it to role-play,” she suggests, backing us up closer to the bed.
I can’t take it any longer; she wins.
I grab her by the waist, picking her up, and quickly move her onto my bed.
I greedily take everything she offers up to me, needing it to feel alive—needing my fix of her like a drug.
When we’re together like this, there’s this moment—right after—where I feel whole. Like whatever’s broken inside me has been temporarily stitched together. I cling to that feeling. Because the second it fades, the darkness rushes back in.
But tonight I plan on doing whatever I can to keep it pushed away—using every touch of hers that makes me feel high, and every drink that stops my racing thoughts.
She’s tucked under my arm, my hand stroking her back as we lie in the bed. I’m still riding the high of being with her when someone starts banging on my door.
“Yo! Mase! Where you at?”
“Fuck off, Tanner! I’m busy!” I yell back.
“With your hand or a girl?”
I feel Simone chuckle against my chest.
“None of your business!”
“Ah shit! Let me see who you’ve got in there!”
I grab the thermos from my side table and chuck it at the door.
“No need to get feisty, princess!” he yells over the music. “Just hurry up and get out here! And you better be wrapping your shit! We don’t need more little Masons running around doing keg stands by the time they take their first steps!”
Simone starts fully laughing now, and I have to hold my hand over her mouth to quiet her so he doesn’t hear.
I roll out of bed first, tugging back on my jumpsuit while Simone sits on the edge of the mattress, pulling one of my shirts over her head.
My room smells like her now.
Which feels…dangerous.
She digs through the pile of clothes on the floor and holds up her bra with a grimace. “Wow. I just threw this anywhere, didn’t I?”
“You were the one so desperate to get out of it,” I tease.
She flips me off and throws the bra at my chest. “Spare me. If there’s a desperate one here, it’s you.”
“You want this back?” I say, holding up the tiny scrap of fabric. “Or am I keeping it as a souvenir?”
She walks over to grab it back, and I pull her in to me, leaning down to hover my mouth over her neck. “And for the record, I’m more than desperate when it comes to you.”
She leans back, looking up at me, and I can see the goosebumps forming on her arms. “Careful, Sinclair.”
I give her a playful, innocent look. “What?”
She snatches her bra back and then turns around, taking off my shirt and tugging the bra onto her shoulders.
I walk up behind her, taking the back of the bra, clasping it for her.
She looks over her shoulder at me; her face is slightly between a soft smile and a teasing grin.
It makes the moment feel more intimate and too charged.
“Don’t tell me you’re catching feelings, Playboy,” she teases.
Her words snap me back into reality—fast.
Wow.
I can’t actually be stupid enough to think whatever I feel is reciprocated here. I can’t be that dumb. I know how this works.
It’s just my delusional heart that never seems to get the memo—people only want you as long as you’re useful to them in some way. They never actually want you…or want to stay once they get what they want from you.
I back up a step, putting the walls up where they belong. “No, of course not.”
I watch her shrink a little at that, and I hate the way I want to convince myself it means something that it doesn’t.
I shake it off, tugging the white tank top over my head and handing her her cat ears off the floor. “I’m gonna go smoke outside.”
She just stands there and nods, both of us knowing something here just flipped, but neither of us saying anything else about it.
I walk past her, needing to get out of here, needing some air…needing a damn drink.
Once downstairs, I search for anything stronger than beer.
Where the fuck is all the liquor?
Moving from room to room, I drink everything I can get my hands on, wanting the feelings to switch back off.
I end up running straight into someone when I’m not paying attention, too focused on needing this on-edge feeling to die with every burning sip.
I look up from the drink in my hand, and it’s Erik. His expression is concerned when he looks at me, grabbing the sides of my arm. “You good, man?”
I wave him off, finally feeling it hit—the thoughts stop tripping over themselves, and it feels like the knot in my chest loosens.
“Of course. Just…” I feel myself sway a little and smile, loving the moment I know I’ve hit the threshold I needed to reach. The threshold that makes me feel nothing, “gonna go grab a cig outside.”
He nods, still assessing me. “Okay. I’ll go with you.”
I scrunch my nose up at him. “Are you my bodyguard now or something?” I look him up and down. “Honestly, that’s what you should have been for Halloween. You already look like one.”
He just holds me steady, shaking his head. “No, but you’re pretty wasted, just tryna make sure you’re good.”
I pat him on the arm as we make it out onto the front lawn.
“You’re a really good guy, you know that?
” My eyes start to feel heavy as I reach into the pocket of my jumpsuit, feeling for the Marlboro Reds I stuffed in there earlier.
“All…holier than thou now after such a crap upbringing. I mean, look at you. You grew up in the hood…with a shitty dad and all—”
Erik crosses his arms, leaning against the rail. “Alright now.”
I hold the cigarette in my mouth as I pat down my jumpsuit and chest, looking for a lighter.
“What?” I slur. “I get it. I mean…not the whole gang part of your story and all, but, like, the shitty daddy issues I can relate to.”
I see a random lighter sitting on the edge of the porch and grab it, lighting the cigarette and walking back over to lean against the wall.
“How do you do it?” I ask him. “How do you not want to numb it all? How do you stay…sober and not let your past drown you?”
He watches me, thinking of the right way to answer.
“And don’t say God,” I tell him, trying to keep my eyes open, “‘cause I get it, you love the big man upstairs, and he solves all your problems. That’s great and all, but I don’t think God even knows my name, let alone gives a fuck about me, so not really the answer I’m looking for here.”
“Not true,” he says gently. “But that can be a conversation for another sober day. Wanna tell me what’s really going on in your head?”
I drain the drink in my hand before setting it on the ground and taking another drag. “Nothing’s going on. Just…talking to my buddy.”
“Yeah, no. Something’s going on with you lately. I just can’t place what it is,” he says, looking me up and down. “I see the pain written all over this sloppy exterior of yours.”
Erik is tall; he has this ink-black hair, raging dark features, and tattoos that litter his body—the picture of a broody bad boy—but under it all is a complete idiot and real soft teddy bear. And he actually cares, which makes lying to him always harder.
So I choose not to. I just flip him off and keep smoking.
He doesn’t push it, but he stays.
I appreciate it, cause I won’t say it, but I don’t wanna be alone right now. I’m so sick of being alone.
My attention is pulled to the door when I hear Bash coming out with all the girls.
He walks out first with Lydia in hand, Lani and Simone right behind them. They all stop when they see us, and I purposely avoid any eye contact with Simone.
Bash looks between Erik and me. “Everything good?”
I pull out another cigarette, lighting it. “Yep. Y’all headed out?”
Bash pulls Lydia into him, and she smiles.
“Yeah. Bash is driving us back to our dorm,” she says. “Erik, you staying?”
“Nah, I’m gonna head out too.” He looks back at me. “But this conversation isn’t over. We’ll pick it up another time.”
I take a long drag and then fake a smile as I blow it out. “No thanks.”
He just shakes his head, grinning, then turns to the girls. “Lani, wanna ride with me—”
“Fuck no,” she says with such strong disgust in her voice that makes me laugh. “Did you drink tonight? Or bump your head, maybe?”
Erik chuckles, moving closer to her. “No, just thought we could, you know, catch up maybe.”
She looks up at him, and as much as the venom in her voice says, Stay away from me, her body language so obviously says, Come closer.