Scorched (The Frenemy Series Book 4)

by Kate Benson

  “Please don’t let him be the idiot,” I whisper to myself, taking a few steps toward the end of the aisle and braving a glance around the corner.

  I’m not prepared for what’s happening in the middle of the store.

  Nothing could have prepared me for this.

  “Oh, my God,” I groan, watching him make his way down the main aisle, hot pink feather boa, dragon mask and superhero cape firmly in place. “He is the idiot.”

  He saunters across the front of the store, catching my horrified gaze and pointing directly at me, beckoning me to come out of hiding, but I can’t.

  I’ve never been more humiliated in my life.

  I’m hoping – no, praying – that he’ll pick up on my vibe and stop this madness altogether, but when the guitar solo ends and he jumps around the corner I’ve been hiding behind, making me scream, he’s picked up even more accessories on his way and is singing louder than I ever thought possible.

  “Stop it! Stop!” I hiss under my breath, slapping him away when he reaches for my arm to pull me out into the open in front of his clapping spectators. “Leave me alone!”

  “Come on,” he laughs. “I brought you a hat.”

  “I’m not going anywhere with you!” I insist, breaking out of his hold and turning in the opposite direction. “Fuck off, Mason,” I whisper, gesturing toward the speakers above us. “Fine Young Cannibals would be ashamed of you right now.”

  “Fine Young Cannibals would love my ass,” he argues, his arms moving into some kind of robot formation, before he ends the dance by flipping me the bird. “You need to lighten the fuck up.”

  I’m about to respond, tell him off in some way I haven’t decided yet, when the song blessedly fades into an ad for the store. He walks back out into the main aisle and throws his arms up in victory, drinking in the applause of his adoring fans.

  I grab the last of my purchases, grateful that this part of my day is coming to an end and make my way to where he’s standing up front by the registers, laughing and making small talk with the cashiers.

  “Ma’am, I can help you over here,” one of them smiles, laughter from whatever moronic shit he just said to her still trailing through her words.

  “Did you get everything you needed?” Mason asks, coming to a stop beside me and peeking over my shoulder to see what I picked up.

  “I think so,” I nod, still shaking with embarrassment. He notices and instead of offering another jab like I expect, he simply chuckles under his breath.

  “Oh, are you two together?” the cashier asks, gesturing toward us. I’m about to answer when she looks at me and shakes her head in amusement. “This one must be a real cut-up all the time,” she snickers. “Never a dull moment, I’d bet, with the two of you. He probably keeps you on your toes.”

  “I prefer keeping her on her back, if you know what I mean,” Mason interjects, making the older woman chuckle shyly before she slaps the air between them.

  “You’re such a rascal,” she cackles, making him laugh as the last of the blood drains from my face.

  “Don’t!” I stammer, shaking my head. “We’re not - ” I try again, to no avail, and stare up at him with my mouth agape in shock. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Don’t you try to deny me, sugar,” he croons annoyingly, making my stomach knot up in humiliation before he glances back up at the cashier. “She does this all the time. She’s so silly,” he shakes his head, looking back down at me. “Aren’t you, muffin top?” he sings. “Who’s my silly girl? Who is she?”

  He moves to pinch my scarlet cheek and I immediately slap his hand away.

  “Stop. It.”

  “You stop it,” he winks, making the knot in my stomach grow. “Silly little minx. I’m gonna tear you up later.”

  “No, you aren’t!” I wail, turning toward the still laughing cashier. “He isn’t. I barely know him.”

  “You two are adorable,” she smiles, putting my receipt in the bag and handing it back to me. “You have a great day and try to stay out of trouble.”

  “I can’t make you any promises, Rosie,” he winks, making her blush before he steers me toward the exit.

  We’re nearly halfway to the car, standing in the middle of a parking lot, when I turn on him and scream.

  “What the everloving fuck is the matter with you, Mason?” I demand, my stomach still turning with nerves that threaten to make me lose my breakfast. “That was mortifying! Why would you do that?”

  “I told you,” he smirks, taking the bag from me and moving toward the car. “You need to lighten the fuck up already. This smoldering mean girl thing ain’t working for you.”

  “So, you humiliate me in the middle of a public place?” I ask, my feet finally moving to follow him as he lifts the lid to his trunk and drops the bag in with the others. “How is that supposed to help me?”

  “Well, you were embarrassed, right?” he asks, pulling an overexaggerated nod from me. “But here you are, still alive and breathing and everything. You’re fine.”

  “I’m a lot of things right now, Mason, but fine is definitely not one of them.”

  “Well, you will be,” he shrugs. “C’mon. Let’s go pick up the suits. I need a drink.”

  “I’m not drinking with you anymore,” I shake my head as I slip into the car and fasten my seatbelt. “No way in hell we’re adding booze to this shit again.”

  “Fine,” he shrugs. “You can watch me drink. Either way, I’m ready to call this shit. I can only handle so many party supplies shops in one day.” I say nothing in response but can feel his eyes when they fall on me, studying my profile. “What? Are you really mad about that?”

  “Yes, I’m really mad about that,” I admit with a sigh, shaking my head. “I don’t need you to help lighten me up, Mason. I’m fine with myself and my life.”

  He humphs beside me, shaking his head.

  “Okay,” he sighs. “It’s your story, sweetheart. You tell it however you want to.”

  “It’s not a story and stop calling me sweetheart!” I insist, finally giving him my gaze.

  “I’m sorry,” he offers, and I wave him off, certain he doesn’t mean it. “No, I am. You’re right. Whatever you want to do with your life is really none of my business. I might not get it, but who cares, right?”

  My eyes move to his and this time, both our gazes are softer.

  “You didn’t really do anything wrong,” I shake my head, finally relenting. “I mean, I’m definitely never stepping foot back inside that store ever again after that,” I insist, making him smirk. “And if I’m honest, it’s kind of sweet that you want me to have fun and not be so uptight, but you don’t have to. Just because we …” I trail off, choking back the rest of my words for a moment before I clear my throat and face him. “We aren’t obligated to each other.”

  He thinks for a moment, long enough that I feel my stomach jolting with nerves until he finally breaks the silence.

  “You think that’s why I did that? Because I feel obligated to you?” he asks, gesturing toward the store he’d just assured would be off limits for the rest of my days. I shrug my confirmation. “You know, I keep telling you I’m not the asshole you think I am, Alex. This isn’t about some drunken mistake you think we made. Believe what you want, but what happened in there has nothing to do with what happened back at that hotel.”

  “Well, drunken mistakes aside, I really am fine.” He starts to object, but I cut him off. “I am, Mason. You might not be able to see that because I’m different than you, but I’m okay with the way shit is in my life right now.”

  He nods, seeming to consider my words for a moment before he glances back over at me.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “Huh?”

  “If we were back home and you had an entire weekend off where you weren’t doing this, what would you be doing?”

  I think about the question for a moment and finally, I shrug.

  “I don’t know,” I shake my head, gl
ancing back over at him. “I’ve never had an entire weekend off. Not since I was a teenager, and back then it didn’t matter. I’d probably just stay home and watch movies or read like I do on all my other days off.”

  “Yeah,” he nods, stifling another smirk, though this one seems a little sadder than the rest. “That’s kind of what I thought you’d say.”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “Nothing,” he shakes his head, glancing back over at me. “Nothing at all if that’s what you really would want to do,” he admits. “I just don’t think that’s what you’d want. I think that’s what you’d do, but I don’t think those are the same things.”

  I release a low sigh and eventually, have to nod my agreement.

  “Okay, so fine. What would you do?”

  “Whatever I felt like doing,” he admits. “I’d go to the beach or come see my sister or see a show, something fun. Something exciting,” he says. “I wouldn’t spend it sitting in my apartment. And I think if you’re honest, that’s not really what you’d want, either.”

  “Well, not all of us can get through life with your attitude, Mason,” I remind him. “This whole devil-may-care thing works okay for you because you don’t have any responsibilities, no real catastrophe would happen if your whole life blew up in your face,” I shrug. “I don’t have that to fall back on. I haven’t for a long time.”

  He stares back at me, something stewing beneath the surface, but he says nothing for a long time. When he finally does, I can hear the strain of disbelief in his words.

  “Is that what you think my life is like? Not a shred of responsibility? Not a care in the world?” he asks, and I can’t put my finger on why, but something in the question makes my chest flutter with enough guilt that I don’t know how to answer him. “Despite your shit-assumption skills, I’m going to give you a piece of advice. Take it or don’t, it’s none of my business one way or another,” he shrugs. “I know what Walt’s paying you, I know who writes the schedule and I know what has to and doesn’t have to be done inside that bar,” he continues. “One weekend off and out of that apartment doing whatever the fuck you want would do you a lot more good than you’re giving it credit for. You might think you’re fine, but you’re full of shit.” I start to argue, but he holds his finger up, silently cutting me short. “We’ve been here three days and you can’t even tell you’ve been in that hotel room. I’m willing to bet your apartment isn’t too far off from that,” he says, making me swallow hard. “You need to learn how to give yourself a little more credit. You’ve been there for over a year – if you were going to fuck up, you’d have done it by now,” he offers, cranking the ignition and glancing back over at me. “You write your own story, Alex. The last thing you want is to look up one day and find out you’re nothing more than a secondary character.”

  chapter eighteen

  alex

  The ride back to the hotel is mostly taken in silence, his words resonating with me as deeply as any other have before. When I step back into my room, the sound of the door clicking behind me releases a quiet echo that seems louder than it should. I toss my key card and purse into their spot on the dresser and with a deep breath, I turn to take in the state of my surroundings, and when my eyes fall on the untouched bed, I swallow hard.

  Mason was right.

  I could die right now and save for a bag and a dress given to me by a friend, no one would really ever know I was in this hotel room.

  Sure, I have friends, a boss who checks in and a few work acquaintances, but since my parents both died and I’ve fallen into the habit of cutting off any romantic relationship long before they ever materialize into anything of substance, that’s it.

  The only living creature that is depending on me right now is Marvin, and even he wouldn’t notice I was gone until his automatic feeder runs out in two weeks.

  “Girl,” I whisper, rubbing my palms over my face as I fight the burn behind my eyes. “How the fuck did you get here?”

  I’m blaming and unblaming, rationalizing and debunking when suddenly, I realize it doesn’t even matter how I got to this place in my life.

  All that matters is that I start looking for a way to set myself free.

  My feet move of their own accord and I move directly toward my bed, yanking the pristine comforter from its bindings beneath the mattress before I toss it onto the floor. I throw a pillow, turn around on my heels and make my way toward the dresser where I tug onto the zipper of my bag and remove two stacks of clothing and set them into the empty drawer. By the time I’ve hung the dress and a few other things in the closet, lined my shoes at its base and strewn makeup over the bathroom counter, tears are covering my reddened cheeks and I’m exhausted.

  I strip down, leaving my clothes in a small heap on the bathroom floor and move back toward the disheveled bed. I collapse into its surface and release a long low sigh, recalling every word that led up to the destruction surrounding me and my chest begins to ache.

  What if I was wrong about Mason all along?

  What if I’ve been wrong about everything?

  *

  It’s dark outside when my phone begins to blare, jolting me from my distorted dreams. The fleeting relief that I’m not waking up in my enemy’s bed for the first time in three days isn’t one I can deny, but the slight tinge of disappointment also isn’t something I expect to come with it.

  I glance down at my phone, my eyes still heavy with sleep, and smile when I check the screen and see who’s calling.

  “Hey girl!” Amy sings into the line before I can properly answer, and like always, I can’t help but smile harder at the sound of her voice. “How’s the wedding prep going? I can’t believe I’m missing so much of it.”

  “Hey,” I chuckle through my yawn, sitting up fully and shaking my head at the liberating destruction surrounding me. “It’s going good. How are you? How’s the trip?”

  “Kind of stupid. I’d rather be there with y’all,” she admits, the sound of her boyfriend, Jason, rattling off a muffled complaint in the background making me laugh again. “What? I told you I didn’t want to come, and you made it weird. Why do I have to lie to my friend because you couldn’t wait a week to leave the state?”

  “So, I see the romantic getaway has been a success,” I smirk into the line and I don’t have to see her to know she’s rolling her eyes.

  “It’s fine,” she sighs. “He’s pretty and he buys me margaritas whenever I want them.”

  “Definitely a keeper, then,” I reply, and smile when she agrees. “So, are you still going to be able to make it back in time for the party tomorrow night?”

  “Yes,” she says immediately. “Girl, you know I wouldn’t miss it. I might have to come straight from the airport, but I’ll be there. Sorry again I had to leave you there with Mason. I know he’s not your favorite,” she admits. “How’s that been?”

  “Um… it’s been …” I trail off for a moment, the right words failing me until finally, I settle. “It’s been okay. Kind of complicated.”

  “Complicated how?” she asks, her voice holding the same unsure edge as mine. “I mean, you’re just planning wedding shit, right? It’s not like you’re sleeping with the guy,” she laughs, waiting for me to join, and stopping abruptly when I don’t. “Wait … are you sleeping with him?”

  “Not exactly,” I manage, my face contorting awkwardly as I bite my lip. “I mean, I did, but it’s fine. It’s not anything we need to talk ab-”

  “Oh, my God!” she cuts me off, her laughter trailing through the line so abundantly, I have to pull the phone away from my ear for a moment. “How the hell did that happen?”

  I recap the last few days, the simplicity of each detail lost as I’m forced to wait out her laughter and once I finally get to the part that covers our talk in the party store parking lot, her laughter ceases altogether.

  “So, I don’t know,” I sigh. “It’s weird. I think he’s right and that makes it weirder. And you know I’m not one t
o keep things from y’all, but I’m pretty sure I can’t tell Evie anything.”

  “No, definitely not right now,” she agrees. “I’ve been texting her all week and the progression of that girl’s crazy is getting more and more alarming,” she smirks. “She’ll calm down after it’s all said and done and if you want to tell her then, you go for it, but I think it’s best to keep it under wraps for now,” she admits. “And I know you probably don’t want to hear it right now, but Mason is right. I’ve been thinking the same thing myself for a little while, if I’m honest.”

  “I know,” I groan, my head falling lazily against the headboard as I stare up into the ceiling for answers that aren’t there. “I trashed my hotel room when I got back here. It’s a mess. I’m a mess.”

  “Bullshit,” she argues immediately. “But did it make you feel better?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then that’s all that matters,” she replies, her voice soft and supportive. “And for the record, it doesn’t matter how clean you keep your hotel room, I’d notice if you were gone.”

  “Me, too,” I smile, her words making my heart clench. “I love you.”

  “Love you, too, babe,” she smiles. “I’ll see you tomorrow. If you hook up with Mason again, find out what that mouth do.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I laugh, still smiling when I end the call and lift myself from the mattress.

  I glance at the clock and am not surprised at all when it reads just after seven. I hadn’t realized I’d been so tired when I collapsed earlier, but I guess breakdowns really take a lot out of a girl.

  I take my time in the shower, letting the hot water work its magic on my sore muscles. When I step out into the steam-filled room, the gentle sound of tapping on my door does surprise me.

  I secure the towel tighter around me, grateful for the convenience of the peephole and my own quiet steps. I’m silent as I make my way to the door, though I can’t be sure why. Only three people know I’m here right now and of those three, the likelihood of it being anyone other than Mason is slim to none.