by J. L. White
“Okay. That makes sense.”
“Take a deep breath. It’ll be okay.”
That is probably my least favorite platitude in the entire world, but in this particular situation, it does kind of help. I take a deep breath. It probably will be okay.
I hope.
Later, when Mason texts me that they’re at the edge of town and stopping for gas, the butterflies start up.
Mason: Let’s go somewhere casual. A pizza place or something?
I’m proud of myself for being ready with the response.
Me: We could go to Delsa’s diner. They have great burgers.
Mason: The place with the cookie pie?
Last time he was here, we’d gone there late one night for snacks, so he hasn’t tried any of the regular food, aside from the volcano fries, which we had right alongside our cookies.
Me: Yes. Do you think she would like that?
Mason: That’s perfect. Meet you there?
Oh, I like this meeting-there plan. That’ll save some awkwardness, probably. I head out the door immediately, wanting to be there first.
When I arrive, I count myself lucky that one of the better booths is available, and hold it for us. While watching the door, I fuss with the stuff on the table, straightening the napkin dispenser, rotating the ketchup and mustard bottles so the labels face out, and moving around the little Specials placard. Like a nervous idiot. Which, of course, I am.
She comes to the door first, followed by Mason. In the instant that I see her, I take in her body language, her facial expression, her behavior, looking for clues to how this might go.
She has a purse with long straps slung over one shoulder. She’s hanging onto the top of it with one hand, and holding on to the front strap with the other. Guarded. She scans the restaurant half-heartedly, seeming to wait for Mason’s lead to find me. I don’t know if she knows what I look like, anyway. Has he shown her a picture? How much have they talked about me?
She looks as nervous as I feel, and my mind flies back to that party on Thanksgiving when Mason came into the lion’s den. I only have one person to meet and we’re in neutral territory. It could almost be considered my turf. How did he do it?
His eyes land on me quickly, and as he points me out and she looks at me, I slide out of the booth and come to a stand.
They come toward me, and I grip my hands in front of me. Then I make myself let go and try to stand normally. I give her a smile. I’m nervous, but my smile is genuine. This is Mason’s mother.
“Hi honey,” he says as he comes up to me. He gives me a kiss that’s the perfect blend of sweetness and affection, and I’m glad he took the lead. He slides an arm comfortingly around my shoulders. “Mom, this is Corrine. Corrine, this is my mother, Nancy.”
I extend my hand, wanting to put her at ease and keep all the nerves to myself. “I’m so happy to meet you.” Not a lie. I do want this. I have wanted this. I want it to go well. I want to know she’s okay with me, or at least okay enough that there are no problems between her and her son.
In all my discussion with Lizzy, I somehow failed to realize that one simple thing. My thoughts were selfish. What would she think of me? What could I do to make sure she liked me? But now that she’s in front of me, I’m really more concerned about her.
“Was the drive okay?” I ask, as we start to sit down.
Mason sits next to me, putting his arm around my shoulders. Nancy watches that gesture, then brings her eyes to mine. She smiles slightly, for the first time. I wonder whose idea this was. She doesn’t seem prepared for it, any more than I am.
“It’s not a bad drive,” she says. “We were halfway here anyway. We went to the Terrace Creek Olive Mill.”
“Oh.” I glance at Mason. “I’ve been wanting to go there. How was the food? I hear it’s amazing.”
She nods. “We didn’t have lunch there today, but the food is good.” She looks at Mason. “You should take her there sometime.”
I swear, part of me wants to come right out and ask her if she’s okay with us dating. I want to lean in, look her in the eye, and ask with nothing but concern for her, ‘Are you really okay with this? Am I hurting your relationship with your son?’
It’s something Lizzy would do, and probably pull off, too. But I’m not Lizzy, and a chicken besides. “Well, the food here isn’t on that level. As you can see, it’s pretty down-to-earth. But the burgers are incredible.”
“I was telling her about the cookie pies,” Mason says.
“The shakes are good, too. They’re best known for their volcano fries, but I don’t know. You might need to be a dumb college kid to want to eat a giant basket of something like that.”
She’s been glancing around, taking in the place, with its red leather booths, white linoleum, and neon jukebox in the corner. When I make the comment about the fries, though, she looks back to me and smiles. It feels like a real smile. Her eyes even glitter a little.
“I’m not afraid of your volcano fries.”
I laugh. It sounds like the comment a competitive person would make. Maybe it’ll be easier for us to get along than I thought. But I spoke too soon, because the waitress comes with our menus and waters, and leaves us to look over our options in awkward silence.
I’m trying to think of something to say, and coming up blank. You’d think I’d never carried on a conversation before my life. God, this is just like when Mason was at our house for Thanksgiving. Our social skills dropped to minus ten.
Again, I wish we could just talk about the real issue here, but I don’t have those kind of guts, I guess. I’m skimming the menu for something to do, but I’ll probably just get what I always get. My eyes land on an item, and I bring it up because I don’t know what else to say. “The onion rings are good too.”
She puts down her menu and laces her fingers together. “I’ll get a burger. What do you say we split an order of volcano fries?”
“I could eat one by myself,” Mason says. “Corrine, could too. Don’t let her size fool you.” He nudges against my shoulder as he says that, giving me a devilish grin.
Even when he’s just being playful, and even though his mom’s right here in front of us, he still gives my heart a little flutter. I can’t help but smile back, and remember Lizzy’s advice to let his mom see us be happy together. That’s the easy part.
I look back to his mom. “I’m fine with sharing. We split one once.”
“Should we get two?”
“No,” I say at the same time Mason says, “Yes.”
“I win,” he says. “I’m buying.”
“No,” she says reaching over and patting his wrist. She turns her attention back to me. “I’m buying. So Corrine, how do you like Hartman?”
“It’s great,” I say. “A really good school. The classes are small so we get a lot of personalized instruction from the professors. And the students are pretty nice.”
“Have you made a lot of friends here?”
I nod, thinking about how many of them have graduated and moved on since I’ve been here. Funny, though. My best friends are still my cousins. And now Mason. I bite my lip, holding that little piece of information back. She maybe doesn’t want to hear about my cousins. But I decide to share the last part, about Mason, and she rewards me with another genuine smile.
I realize I like her. This can’t be easy for her, but she does seem like a nice person.
She asks me lots of questions after that, wanting to know if I have any siblings, where my parents live, what I’m majoring in, and what I plan to do after college. I’m glad I have the online communications degree answer all in line. In fact, it’s come in handy, since Mason and my family aren’t the only ones who are constantly wanting to know what I plan to do after graduation.
I get her to talking about her job for a while, asking lots of questions and hoping she doesn’t feel like she’s being grilled by a reporter. But I don’t want to just talk about me. I want her to know I’m interested in her, too. Besid
es, she’s an ER nurse and has some funny stories.
We’ve placed our orders, and as the waitress brings us our shakes and two orders of volcano fries, Mason says, “Tell her about the Tonka truck guy. “
We dive into our fries and I hear all about the guy who swallowed a little Tonka truck, the lady with two thumbs on one hand, and the kids who almost seriously went into a sugar coma the day after Halloween. She’s a pretty good storyteller, and several times I forget why this is supposed to be weird. It keeps coming back to me, though, and I think it’s because it’s still this unspoken thing everyone’s thinking about but nobody’s saying.
But I don’t do anything to rock the boat, and eventually the meal is over, his mother’s paid the bill, and we’re saying our goodbyes in the parking lot. I walk back to my car feeling good, but playing it all through my head again, wondering how she feels about things. I think it went okay?
I open the car door, but before I get in, Mason calls my name just behind me. I turn around, and see that his mother is already in the car, which is pointed in the opposite direction so she’s facing away from us. He’s come back to say something to me. Or maybe not say anything.
He cups my face in his hands, and gives me the kind of kiss I thought I’d have to wait a whole week to get. I’m worried she might turn around and see us, but I allow him to pull me into his arms anyway. My body floods with warmth, and my heart beats thickly in my chest. Other parts of me are starting to gear up, but I tell them to stand down. We’re definitely not doing that right now.
He pulls back, but keeps me close, cupping my face in his hand. “Thank you,” he says.
“Did it go okay? Is she all right?”
He nods. “It was good. You were great.”
“She’s really nice. I really like her.”
Pleased, he pulls me into an embrace, tucking his lips against my ear. “I’m crazy about you,” he says. “You know that, right?”
My heart flutters lightly against my chest, and I squeeze him. “Why wouldn’t you be crazy about a girl who can down a whole basket of volcano fries by herself?”
He laughs and pulls away.
“I’m crazy about you, too. I’m so glad I got to meet your mom.”
“Me too. I’d better get back to her, I just had to give you a kiss.”
He kisses me again, then waits for me to get in and closes the door. I drive back to my apartment already missing him, but so happy with the knowledge that she’s okay. That I haven’t ruined things between them. It’s okay that Mason and I have had this time together after all. No harm done.
Following the visit with Mason’s mother, it seems like there’s nothing holding us back. Our relationship seems to deepen to a different level, and he becomes more a part of me than he used to be. It’s a little scary, because I feel carried along by it all, but it’s so exhilarating that I’m mostly just enjoying it.
The second weekend in May, the resort has their big Grand Reopening of the Cottages. They’re a long row of beach houses down on the shore, far beneath the bluff the holds the resort. They used to be owned by somebody else and have been a Swan Pointe highlight for decades, but the resort bought them when they went up for sale last fall and Lizzy took on the remodeling as her pet project.
The resort has been advertising this event for several months, and it seems like the whole damn city is here. The road and parking is to the rear of the little buildings, which face the ocean, and tents with refreshments are set up every three houses, so as people walk through and tour the new cottages, they never have to go far to refill their plates of food and glasses of champagne.
Rayce, Lizzy, and Connor are spread out between the different tents, making themselves available for people who want to greet them. They’re busy, always surrounded by people, so Mason and I just wave from a distance and leave them to their work.
As we go through the Cottages, enjoying the different themes in each house, Mason starts to make a game out of sneaking as many kisses as he can. It’s tricky, because there’s plenty of people here, but anytime were in a room alone, he pulls me into his arms and kisses me until he has to stop.
It starts as something silly that involves a lot of giggling and in general acting like idiot teenagers. But in the blue and white loft of Cottage 15, we have a surprisingly long amount of time alone, and it turns to something else. It’s slower kisses, more meaningful gazes, and a longing that starts somewhere deep inside me. It’s that emotional need for him that fuels my physical desire, not the other way around.
We don’t stay for the rest. Taking me by the hand, he leads me along the boardwalk back to the parking lot adjacent to the Cottages, and we climb on his bike. I wrap my arms around him, press my cheek to his back and inhale his scent.
He drives to my place, since it’s closer, and all through the streets of Swan Pointe, I hold him tight and feel my heart pounding the whole way. My body needs him. I’m throbbing and wet. But it’s also like my heart is reaching through me for him.
When we get there, and I climb off the bike, he scoops me into his arms and carries me to the door. I nuzzle my nose into his neck. He smells so good, I want to taste him. So I do. He groans when my tongue touches his skin.
Once we’re inside, he sets me down in the foyer and we are a hot and slow storm of movement, kissing and caressing and leaving a trail of clothes from the front door to halfway up the staircase. There, we cannot wait any longer. He goes for my breasts, my stomach, then I’m leaning back on my elbows, legs spread, and he stretched out below me, burying his face in me.
It’s a slow, intense climb, his little bit of scruff rubbing me just right. His tongue devours me, laps at me, sucks me long and slow. My head is hanging back, my hands are gripping the carpeted step, and I pant and whimper and let out little cries as he works me to climax.
He doesn’t let up and I cry out his name, gripping the back of his head and contracting again and again. When it’s over, my heart is pounding and I’m hardly able to move. He scoops me up again. I’m limp and heavy in his arms as he carries me upstairs and sets me on the bed.
Still standing next to the bed, he puts his mouth next to my ear and says lowly, “I’m not done with you yet.”
I’m still throbbing with my post-climax, but there’s a hot surge of anticipation between my legs. He climbs onto the bed, kneeling beneath me and sitting back on his heels.
I let my legs relax open, and look down at his massive cock. I’ve been on the pill for a while now, so there’s no condom. It’s all Mason.
He grips the top of my thighs and scoots me down slightly until we’re lined up. I watch as he grabs his cock by the base and bends the tip to my opening. Still panting, I lift my head slightly so I can see. He’s right there. His thick tip just pressing against me. My channel surges with pleasure, just knowing how good it’s going to feel so soon after I’ve climaxed.
He penetrates me slowly. I exhale deeply, trembling, and my eyes flit up to his. He meets my eye too, then together we look again, watching his thick cock spread me wide. Deeper and deeper, then my eyes slide shut as I moan, and he folds on top of me, gently hitting bottom.
I call his name again, but it’s a whisper. “Mason,” I whisper again, as he slowly pulls out, then pushes back in. “Yes.”
My arms are around his hard chest, and our bare stomachs rub together as we slowly rock. His hand comes to my neck and jaw, and he brings me to his hot mouth, where we open to one another instantly. We stay connected, tongues diving deep, and our rhythm down below slowly intensifies.
We keep on like this, and on, until our pace gets too quick and we break apart gasping. His hand cups the back of my head, gripping my hair and sending tingles along the roots. His cock works me faster, harder, and the base of his shaft nips at my clit again and again.
I swell more with each touch. I tighten harder with each thrust. My chest and neck flush hot as I cling to him with both arms, nails digging into his skin.
The line where our
bodies meet blurs, and I understand what it means to become one and all the while the pleasure crests until I am both stunned by its strength and still yearning for completion.
“I—” But I stop myself from saying what I was thinking. I’m almost incoherent anyway, struck as I am with ecstasy. “Mason,” I whisper between gasps. “Mason, Mason, Mason.”
Then his name on my lips turns into a long, high cry as I’m drawn up and up and over the edge. His body flexes taut and his cock hardens even more as he comes hard with me. Pumping together erratically now, we climax as one in a dizzying swirl of sensation.
I am overcome with us.
When we release, his weight drops heavy on me and I exhale with the satisfaction of it. I hang onto him, breathing hard. He’s still buried deep in my body, and we lay motionless, unwilling for a long time to let go.
Those are the kind of moments that stop time.
Between being absorbed with everything Mason, and working on the final projects of my last semester ever, time is the exact thing I lose track of.
It’s hard to believe, but I really do.
Mason and I are at Lizzy’s old place in Swan Pointe, pulling our clothes back on for the second time since I arrived an hour ago and trying to decide where we should go for dinner later tonight. It’s just before five, a fact I will notate later, though I couldn’t tell you why.
The point is this. The call from the nurse that should’ve been expected, instead comes as a shock. An actual surprise. She could’ve reached right through the phone and shaken me around by the neck, and it wouldn’t have knocked me off my feet any less.
I try to act normal, because Mason is right here, but I don’t know what to make of my own reaction. I don’t understand it, and it’s more than a little disturbing.
Is this foreboding I feel a premonition? I don’t know.
But it’s not like I don’t know what to do, so some little part of my brain takes over and I manage to get through the conversation on autopilot. I consult my calendar. We set up the MRI. I say thank you for calling, which is sort of laughable now that I think about it. I hang up.