61. Simone #2
He jerks back at that. “You will always be the only one, Simone.”
I shake my head, not believing that. “It’s so hard to trust anyone. Someone like you has as many options at his fingertips as he could dream up.”
“I’m only dreaming about you.”
“Until someone better comes along.”
“Not possible.”
“They’re everywhere. They’re all over campus. I don’t know any of the girls you’ve been with before, and I don’t know how many of them are probably better options than me.”
He studies me for a moment, searching for what words he can give me. “Okay,” he says, nodding like we’re really doing this. “Let me finally be transparent with you then. Let me tell you who I’ve been with.”
I shake my head. “I don’t think I want to know. I don’t think I could handle knowing that, or having to see them and picture you with them—”
“Simone,” he says, stopping me.
I stop, trying not to let those images appear in my head, and look at him.
“The first girl I had ever been with was when I was sixteen. She slept with me as a dare in school with a bunch of other kids…and I knew nothing about it. It was humiliating.”
My heart sinks thinking about baby Mason being used like that.
“The second girl I ever slept with,” he continues, “was a girl I dated my senior year of high school, who cheated on me on our graduation day at a party.”
I hate both girls. Wish I could punch them in the face for hurting him like that.
“The third,” he continues. “And last girl I ever slept with….was you.”
I stop, tilting my head at him. “Huh?”
“I’ve only ever been with three people. And quite honestly, only one of them ever really mattered. Only one of them ever truly and wholly had my heart.”
The world goes a little still.
“Why did you let me and everyone else just think you were some typical college boy who slept around with everyone?”
He shrugs. “It was just easier that way.”
“Easier?” I repeat, a little angry.
He nods, eyes dropping to his hands. “People already think I’m a certain kind of guy. The guy who doesn’t care. The guy who sleeps around. The guy who’s fun and reckless and doesn’t take anything seriously.”
I stare at him, like I’m really seeing him for the first time.
“And you just…let them?” I ask softly.
‘Yeah,” he says, nodding, almost disappointed in himself for it.
“Why?”
Mason’s lips press together, and then he looks at the ground. “Because it keeps the bar low,” he says quietly. “So when I do stupid things and mess up, nobody’s surprised. Nobody’s expecting better of me.”
That sentence is so sad I can barely breathe around it.
“Mason…” I whisper.
He swallows. “I didn’t want you to expect better either.”
The words hit me like a slap, making me stiffen.
“What?” I whisper.
He looks down quickly, like he regrets how he said it. “No.” He shakes his head. “Not because I didn’t want you to. Because I was scared you would, and then I’d disappoint you anyway.”
In this moment, everything suddenly starts to make a little more sense—the partying, the self-sabotage, the way he always makes a joke right before something gets too real.
I stare at him, not being able to hide the sadness in my voice. “So you just…let me think you were someone you weren’t.”
He nods, shame flashing across his face. “Yeah.”
I swallow, and my voice comes out smaller now. “That really messed with me. That was a huge part of why I was scared to get attached to you.”
“I know,” he whispers.
I stare out at the park for a second because I can’t look at him. Because if I look at him, my heart will forget to protect itself.
He takes both of my hands in his now, turning to face me, and his knee brushes mine. It’s such a small touch, but it sends my whole body into memories.
“I know it was wrong. You shared yourself with me, and I wasn’t honest with you when it mattered.
I was more worried about the expectations people always put on me, rather than putting your mind at ease.
Making you feel like you ever had any competition, when in reality, no one will ever be able to come close to what you mean to me. ”
For some reason, that answer feels better than some perfected one, because perfect doesn’t exist. We’ve never been perfect. We’re messy, and I wouldn’t have it any other way with him.
“What does all of this mean?”
“I’ve actually had a lot of time to think about that,” he tells me. “I want to learn how to love you without taking from you.”
My heart feels warm at that.
“And for a while…I think that means we also don’t sleep together.”
The words land sloppily, and my insecurity jumps up like a reflex. “So you just don’t want me anymore?” I whisper, hating the way it sounds as soon as I say it.
His eyes widen. “No.” He shakes his head hard. “No, Simone. I want you so much it scares me to mess things up any more than I already have.”
My mind is battling between hurt and relief, still confused by what he’s trying to say.
“That’s exactly why,” he continues, “I need to prove to both of us that this isn’t just about sex. That I’d choose you even if sex was completely off the table.”
I stare at him, twisting my fingers together from the nerves while my heart wants to beat out of my chest and run to this boy.
He laughs softly, and a little bitterly. “I want to remember this season for actually getting better, not just getting naked.”
I laugh through the emotion because, of course, he’d say it like that.
But my eyes are burning. “Mason…” I whisper.
“You deserve to know you’re worth so much more than that.
And when we started this based on physical feelings, it clouded what I actually felt for you.
It didn’t give me the space to prove to you that I can protect your heart.
You were right when you said we were treating sex like a band-aid for our wounds, as if it would magically give us the self-worth we were both craving. ”
“We have to do that on our own, huh?”
He just nods.
“Sex is not proof of love,” he tells me.
“Sex is not proof of love,” I echo, feeling this strong, overwhelming settled sensation in my heart.
Those words hit the part of my heart that’s been begging to be acknowledged.
Because I’ve been so afraid to admit I was scared of losing him if sex was off the table.
Not that I didn’t want sex with him, because it’s one of the best feelings I’ve ever felt, but it was also the scariest feeling because of how much more I felt for him outside of that.
“You really mean that?” I whisper.
He nods. “I do.”
I nod back, but then get hit with the part I’ve been holding from him, too.
“Mason…” I whisper.
He turns toward me like he’s bracing for whatever I’m about to say because of the switch in my tone.
“Huh?”
I stare straight ahead, not wanting to look at him and fall apart.
“There’s something I never told you,” I say.
I can see him tense up at that. “Okay.”
I take a shaky breath and notice my hands are trembling, so I tuck them under my thighs like I can pin them down.
“I didn’t want to have to tell you,” I whisper. “I didn’t even know how to feel about it myself. But…I can’t keep holding it alone anymore. And you deserve to know.”
Mason’s throat bobs. “Simone, you’re scaring me.”
I let out a shaky laugh that sounds more like a sob. “Yeah. Me too.”
I finally look up at him. His eyes are on mine, steady. No haze. No distant glassiness. Just…my Mason. It makes my throat burn.
“I was pregnant,” I whisper.