51. Mason
Mason
I wake up choking on air, heart beating so fast I feel like it might explode. The sheets are twisted around my legs, and for a second, I don’t know where I am.
Then I feel her hand on my chest.
“Mason?” Simone’s voice is soft, a little groggy, but mostly just concerned.
She pushes herself up on one elbow. Her hair is a beautiful mess that tells me she slept well; her eyes are still heavy with sleep, and she’s scanning my face like she’s worried something’s actually wrong.
“You okay?” she asks quietly.
I drag a hand down my face. “Yeah. It was…just a dream.”
She studies me like she wants to ask more, but isn’t sure if it’s a good idea to probe.
I can feel my pulse still throbbing in my neck, and my hands are shaking under the blanket, so I curl them into fists so she won’t see. She keeps her hand laid flat on my chest, right over my heart. It’s still racing, but her touch slows it. Her thumb moves in small circles, absent-minded.
It feels so intimate.
I stare at the wall for a while, breathing with her hand on me, trying to calm my mind down. Eventually, the silence turns into something more comforting instead of feeling so tense.
“How did you sleep?” I ask.
She moves to lay her head on my chest and then looks up at me, smiling. “I had a dream too. But…a good one.”
“Yeah? What about?”
“I was having this amazing day with this really cute guy.”
“Cute guy?” I ask. “Do I need to be jealous?”
Her smirk is small, like she’s trying to hide it from me. “Maybe. I mean, he was so hot. I’m talking tall, super ripped, like he probably plays sports or something, and he had the most stunning face I’ve ever seen.”
“Was he blonde?”
She shrugs, playing all innocent. “Um…I don’t really remember.”
I move her off me and then prop myself up to hover over her. “I’m gonna ask that again. Was the sexy man in your dreams blonde?”
“You know, now that I think about it…” She pauses for a long moment, like she’s thinking. “I think he was…a brunette.”
“Ohh, you woke up and chose violence today, huh, pretty girl?”
“Hey,” she fake-pouts. “I can’t control my dreams.”
I bury my face in her neck, making her squeal quietly as my hands go to her ribs.
“Okay, okay,” she laughs out. “He was blonde. He was blonde.”
I slowly kiss the spot where her collarbone sticks out, and then move to kiss her on the lips once. “Now, did this blonde have a name?” I ask, voice low.
She rolls her eyes, smirking. “Maybe…”
I stare at her, waiting for the answer.
Her smirk grows bigger, and I know she’s about to fuck with me some more. “His name was…Tanner.”
As soon as she says it, she braces for my attack.
I move back to her neck, biting the spot I know drives her wild, and she laughs as I move down under the sheets, lifting up her tank top and lightly biting her stomach.
I move lower, with her thigh next to my face now, and open my mouth like I’m about to bite her there too, then I look up at her, giving her one more chance.
“His name was Mason!” she squeals, pushing me away, still laughing.
I move back up and kiss her on the forehead. “That’s what I thought.”
“You are so jealous,” she teases.
“Jealous, territorial, protective, possessive, obsessed…” I keep naming off adjectives, using my fingers to count until I’ve used all ten. “Want me to keep going?”
She giggles and shakes her head. “You’re crazy.”
“For you,” I say, kissing her again.
We lay back on the bed, side by side, staring up at the ceiling, enjoying the quiet moment together—the only peaceful moment before the rest of this shitty day starts.
She shifts closer, resting her head on my chest. “Do you think,” she murmurs, “there’s such a thing as a perfect day?”
I snort quietly. “Nope.”
She tilts her head to look at me. “That was a fast answer.”
“Didn’t even have to think about it,” I quip.
“Why not?” she asks, curious.
“Because,” I say, getting a little more serious now, “if perfect days existed, they would ruin you.”
She frowns at that. “How so?”
“You’d spend the rest of your life chasing something that could never come back,” I tell her. “Or you’d just compare everything else to it. Nothing would ever be enough again or be able to meet the expectations you now have.”
She’s quiet for a moment before she smiles. “You’re exhausting, Sinclair.”
I huff out a laugh. “You asked.”
She rolls back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “I think perfect days exist,” she says. “They’re just…small and unremarkable. You don’t even notice them until they’re gone.”
I turn my head, watching her as the light from the rising sun catches her face in the most perfect way.
“Like what?” I ask.
She shrugs. “Like waking up somewhere you feel safe, or laughing so hard that your stomach hurts, or just feeling…seen.”
Something tightens in my chest. Because most of the moments I have like that…have all been with her lately.
Before I can respond, her phone lights up on the nightstand. It stops, and then rings again. And again.
She groans, turning over towards it. “Seriously?” She grabs it, squinting at the screen, and then her expression changes.
“What?” I ask.
“It’s just…Tyler,” she says, annoyed. “He’s been calling from random numbers lately. I block one, and another pops up a day later.”
I clench my jaw, irritated by the sound of his name on her lips.
The phone buzzes again, and without thinking, I reach over and take it from her hand.
“Mason don’t—”
I swipe to answer before she can stop me.
“Simone?” Tyler’s voice comes through, sounding embarrassingly desperate. “Is that you?”
“No,” I say flatly. “It’s not.”
There’s a pause. “Who’s this?”
“Mason.”
Another pause, longer this time, then I hear him huff on the other end. “Of course it is.”
My hand tightens on the phone, annoyed with this prick. “Stop calling her.”
He scoffs. “You don’t get to tell me who I can talk to. And I need to talk to her.”
“She’s made it very clear she doesn’t want anything to do with you,” I tell him. “You’re embarrassing yourself.”
“Oh yeah?” he asks, more smug now. “Like you? It’s so obvious that you want her. It’s pathetic. You think someone like you even has a chance with someone like her?”
I smile at that. It’s slow and mean. “Funny. Cause it would appear that I was the one she was currently laying with, tucked under my arm, in my bed, while you’re the one calling her phone a million times. Seems like the only pathetic one here is you.”
He’s silent after that.
Then I hear laughter in the room. I look over and see Chase sitting up in his bed, awake now. He’s grinning like an idiot, entertained by all of this, and I flip him off from across the room.
“Lose this number,” I tell Tyler. “And the next one. And the one after that.”
I hang up and toss the phone back onto the nightstand.
Simone exhales slowly. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to. Trust me, it was almost more for me.”
She snuggles up closer to me. “Thank you.”
Chase clears his throat dramatically, standing up from his bed. “Romantic and threatening. Five stars. Proud of my boy.”
I glare over at him. “Fuck off. And put some damn clothes on,” I tell him, covering Simone’s eyes. “You’re walking around here in only your boxers when I have company.”
Simone spreads my fingers open so she can see through them and then smirks. “Yeah…I can see why Lydia slept with you.”
I turn, glaring at her, and she just laughs.
“Chase,” I warn without looking back at him, eyes locked on Simone. “Hurry up and get out of here before you see something you don’t wanna see.”
He lets out a low chuckle. “Who told you I didn’t enjoy a good show every now and then?”
I turn, focusing my glare on him now.
He just raises his hands, laughing. “Fine, fine. I’m going to Tank’s room to shower. Put a sock on the door if you plan on being more than a minute man this morning.”
My middle finger stays up this time until he’s fully out of the room.
When I turn back to Simone, she’s already smiling and shaking her head no.
“No, no, no. You asked for it, pretty girl. I’m just here to deliver punishment.”
* * *
Eventually, we get up after spending way too much time in bed together—brushing our teeth side by side in the bathroom, Simone grabbing one of my college T-shirts to throw on, and both of us heading downstairs together so I can make her some breakfast. Normal things.
Domestic things that feel dangerous because I want them too much.
I’m fine…until I’m not. Until the anxiety and panic start to creep in about today. About him being here.
It’s like a switch flips in my brain, telling me danger is coming and there’s only one way to stop the damage.
I’ve been fighting it for days. Hell, I’ve been fighting this for months. It physically hurts to crave something this badly.
Every time I grab something from the fridge or pantry…it’s all I see. My mouth goes dry, and then my skin starts crawling with the need. It’s like fighting off the worst sickness you’ve ever had while you stare at the cure that’s sitting right in front of your face.
It’s all too much. It feels like I can’t function today, like I’m scared of being in my own mind.
I feel desperate for something that will help the way my body is tensing up, the way my heart is pounding like I’m running a marathon, the way I feel like I’m going crazy inside my own head.
I can’t rationalize anything outside of wanting it to stop.
I wish I could tell you I hated myself for making the decision before even going through with it, but I don’t.
It feels like relief just telling my brain I’ll give it what it wants.
I’ll worry about the rest tomorrow. This is a one-time thing, this is different, this is temporary.
I just—I just fucking need it right now, and nothing else is going to help.
It doesn’t even feel like a choice anymore. And I know there’s no going back.
Once we’re back in my room, I wait to hear Simone turn the shower on before I head back downstairs.
I don’t waste time. I don’t want anyone to see this. I just want it, and I want my head to stop yelling.