by Melinda Minx
Melanie is faster than I am, and before I can get there, she’s blocking the doorway into the hall. She chews and snaps a thick piece of gum, as she’s holding her hands up against the door frame.
“Let me through!” Dillon shouts. “I gotta go make out with my girlfriend!”
Melanie points to me. “Tell it to her.”
“Robot Girl ain’t the one blocking the door!” Dillon shouts.
“I’m not moving until she promises not to ruin the curve again,” Melanie says, scowling at me.
Dillon, not the brightest guy, slowly turns toward me and gives me a dull, confused look. I watch as it slowly transforms into anger. “Yeah, Robot Girl, why can’t you just, like, get a lower score?”
“I won’t ruin the curve again,” I say, barely whispering.
“What’s that?” Melanie asks, smacking her gum. “Are your voice circuits fried? Need your headgear on to speak?”
“I said I won’t ruin the curve again! Just let everyone through.”
“She’s lying,” Will says. “She’s just saying what we want her to say to get out of this. She’ll definitely ruin the curve again. If you had scored just a few points lower, I’d have gotten a B!”
“If you’d have just studied an hour longer,” a deep voice booms from the back of the room, “you’d have earned a B.”
I look back to the source of the voice and see that it’s Mason Steel, standing tall next to his seat. HIs muscles aren’t really flexed, but they always look like they are bulging. To me at least.
“Move out of the way, Melanie,” he says. “Don’t blame her for your shitty grade.”
Her. He’s talking about me! It’s the first time he’s verbally acknowledged my existence. This is awesome!
I realize I’m smiling wide, like an idiot.
“Look!” Melanie hisses. “She’s smiling! She is so full of shit!”
Melanie looks over to Dillon and Will. She snaps her fingers. “Why is Robot Girl wearing a fucking sweater in September? It’s not even cold yet. What’s she hiding under there?”
Will and Dillon give her confused looks.
“Take it off!” Melanie shouts at me. “I want to see that you have skin and bones. Prove to us you’re not a robot!”
I feel my face burning red. My smile is gone.
I look over toward Mason, and I see him prowling toward the door, like a lion on the hunt.
He leans in toward Melanie. I see his mouth moving, but I can’t hear anything he’s saying.
Melanie shouts over his shoulder. “Will! Get it off her!”
Will elbows Dillon, and the two of them creep toward my desk. I get up and start moving backward, but soon I’m against the wall.
“Just take it off,” Dillon mumbles to me. “Everyone knows you’re not really a robot.”
Will isn’t so reasonable. He grabs me by the wrist, and he starts pulling at my sweater. I scream.
The next thing I know, it looks almost as if Will is lifted up into the air. As if God himself has decided to intervene and pluck Will right up off the ground.
But it’s not God, it’s Mason Steel. I see his chest heaving and arms flexing, the veins popping—his muscles really are bulging now—as he holds Will up over his head. Will squirms, and Mason throws Will down into the rows of desks behind him.
Will crashes against one desk, rolls over the chair, and hits the next desk behind him. The desk flips over onto its side, and Will falls down onto the hard tile floor in a big heap.
Everyone is stunned into silence. Me especially.
I see the gum drop out of Melanie’s mouth, and it feels like my own jaw has hit the floor.
“Out!” Mason shouts.
I see someone slide past Melanie, and then the floodgates open. Everyone pours out of the classroom, afraid that Mason will be on them next.
Will pulls himself up off the ground and slinks out into the hallway, limping and looking like a rat with its tail down.
Before I know it, Mason and I are the only ones left in the classroom. The desks Will hit are still knocked over, so I start to lift one up. I’m afraid to look Mason in the eye, and this is the only thing I can think to do to avoid having to face him.
“Relax,” he says. “I’ve got it.”
I feel his big, protective hand touch my back, and I freeze. He moves in front of me and hefts the desk up effortlessly. He grabs the next one and slides it in line behind it.
“Sorry about all that,” he says.
I can feel my face burning. I’m afraid to make eye contact with him. He’s never even looked at me, and now he’s talking to me. Alone.
“It’s…” I mumble, looking up at him and daring to meet his gorgeous eyes. “Why are you saying sorry?”
“I probably could have handled that better,” he says, patting the desk.
“You were perfect,” I say.
He laughs. “I got a B.”
“Be where?”
“My grade,” he says. “On the test. It was a C, but the eight points got me a B, so thanks.”
“Oh,” I say. “You could have had an A, if I hadn’t—”
“Don’t listen to them,” he says. “They’re all just looking for someone to blame other than themselves. You gotta earn your own way.”
I notice I’m licking my lips. My throat is dry.
Mason points down. “Your sweater.”
I look down and see that it’s torn. It looks like shit. Shittier than usual. I grip the torn fabric in my hand and just stare dumbly at it. I don’t know what to say or do.
“Can I give you some advice?” Mason says.
I look up at him, still clutching my sweater like an idiot. “Uh, okay.”
“Don’t hide yourself. Assholes like Will and Melanie are looking for weakness, for people who aren’t confident. Your lack of confidence puts a target on your back.”
I bite my bottom lip, look briefly at him, and then turn my attention back down to my sweater. It’s easy for someone like Mason Steel to tell me to ‘just be confident,’ but it’s quite another to actually do it. How can I be confident when I feel so afraid?
“How can I...what should I do?” I ask.
“You wanna help me with chemistry? I don’t want to rely on a curve to get a good grade on the next test,” he says.
“Help you?”
“I mean,” he says, “I can help you solve your problem if you can teach me to not be so shitty at chemistry. Sound fair?”`
I’d have helped him for free. No, I’d have paid for the honor of tutoring him.
“Uhh,” I stammer. Why am I being indecisive? Just say ‘yes!’”
“No,” he says. “Sorry, I shouldn’t take advantage of—”
“Yes,” I say. “Yes, deal.”
“Okay,” he says, and smiles. “Cool, meet me at my car after school.”
6
Mason
Today
“How long has it been since you’ve had fresh New England seafood?” Marv asks me.
I’m fucking hungry, but food isn’t really on my mind. I know Sophie works at the Crab Shack. I could just call her up, or go to her house, but nothing really feels right.
“When you fuck up real bad, nothing feels right,” I mumble to myself. It’s a pearl of wisdom from the deep seas of my experience, pulled directly out of my ass.
I’m holding a big crate of cod, but when we get to the entrance, Marv takes it off me. “I’ll bring this into the back. Sit down, bond with the guys, get a beer. Just don’t get drunk...you’re not a drunk, right?”
“Nah,” I say.
“Then get a beer, man.”
I nod.
A beer and some fried fish and potatoes sounds good. Maybe even put some vinegar on my fries.
I walk in with Marv’s crew, and I see her straight away.
She’s walking out of the kitchen and holding a tray of drinks. My breath—my heart—catches in my fucking throat. I can’t even breathe when I look at her, and I stop de
ad in my tracks.
I see those big green eyes lock onto me, and just as soon as that, she looks away. She puts the tray down on a table, turns her back to me, and ducks back into the kitchen.
The guys sit down, and I realize I’m still standing stunned, like a fucking sap.
“Mason!” Samuel says. “Sit down, man!”
I walk over and sit down, not taking my eyes off the kitchen door. I look at the drinks on the table. Maybe someone called her back in? Or did she really see me, recognize me, and run away?
I shake my head. What did I fucking expect? Did I think she was going to see me, tear her clothes off, and jump my bones? Why in the hell would she be happy to see me after what happened? After what I did?
I should just leave. Not just the restaurant, but town. Maybe the country.
I laugh. John just told a joke, but that’s not why I’m laughing. When I met Sophie, she was the one who had no confidence. And now here I am, thinking of running away again like some piece of shit? I can’t run away anyway, not after seeing her again.
Everything about her from before is still there—just as stunning as before—but it’s grown. She sure as fuck didn’t smile, but her eyes were still radiant and vibrant, and seeing her long brown hair, I swear I could already smell her from this far away. And her curves, her fucking breasts, everything about her body...one look was enough. I know I have to have her again. I have to make her mine. She doesn’t even have to forgive me, she just has to give me another fucking chance.
Cause if one thing is certain, I know I won’t leave her again. Not now, and not ever.
When she finally walks out again, she doesn’t as much as look at me. She goes straight to another table and takes their orders.
I try not to stare at her, but my eyes are magnetized to her ass, at least until I see her laugh. I can see her smile as she laughs and turns to look over her shoulder at another customer. My eyes lock onto her, and I want her bad enough that I consider going right over there and taking her now. Or at least making her look at me again.
“Yo’, Mason?” Ashton says. “You there, dude?”
Samuel elbows him and gives him a look.
I tear my eyes away from Sophie and look at the two younger men. “I’m not always here, no.” I give them a long, cold stare. They look away, and I hold my stare on them. When they finally look up again—hoping I’ve broken the stare—I lean further in toward them, unblinking.
They look scared shitless, as if I’m going to kill them.
Then I burst out laughing. They look even more scared now.
“Shit,” I say. “That’s Special Forces humor, I told Marv you guys wouldn’t get it. Guess I was right.”
They force laughter.
“You don’t get it,” Ashton says, punching Samuel.
“You do?” Samuel says. “Explain it to me then.”
“I mean,” Ashton says. “It’s not like ha ha funny...but—”
“It’s cool,” I say. “I shouldn’t joke like that. I’m not gonna’ hurt any of you guys. I got your backs.”
“You checking out that waitress,” Marv says, sliding into the booth with us. “I saw. Sophie. You guys were a thing way back, huh?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Then I fucked it up.”
I look back over at her as she disappears into the kitchen again. I wonder how in the hell I could fuck up something so good.
They all laugh.
“Didn’t take you for that kind of guy,” Ashton says.
“What’s that mean?” I ask, frowning.
“Uh,” Ashton mumbles. “I don’t know, I was just talking shit.”
“Really,” I say, pressing. “What did you mean by it? I’m trying to...objectively analyze myself. I’ve been away too long, I don’t know how I look. To everyone else.”
They all give each other looks.
Marv finally speaks up. “You really wanna know?”
I laugh. “I guess that means it’s not good.”
Samuel, John, and Ashton all look over at Marv. He’s the captain, so he’s got to tell me how fucked up I seem.
“It’s not bad, man,” he says. “Or maybe it is bad, you know? In the kind of way that gets women going. You got that whole damaged goods thing going on, but not so much that a girl like Sophie wouldn’t think you’re past trying to fix up.”
“Yeah,” Samuel says. “Women like fixer-uppers.”
“Why don’t you got a girlfriend then?” Ashton asks.
“’Cause I’m already fixed up!” Samuels says, punching Ashton. “I gotta work on that face Mason makes, then girls will all be flocking to me to see what’s going on, what I’m brooding about, you know?”
“It looks like I’m brooding?” I ask.
They all shrug. Marv says, “Yeah, man, it’s a bit like you just kind of check out mid conversation. Don’t worry though, a girl like Sophie doesn’t ever come back to Tuckett Bay. Maybe at Christmas, or something, but no fucking fancy Ph.D. ever has come back here to work at the Crab Shack. She’s here for a reason, man, maybe God himself brought her back here!”
“To run into me?” I ask. “I came back…”
I trail off. I was going to say “I came back here to find her, so it wasn’t God, or chance.” But I catch myself—I realize how that will sound.
The food comes, and I nearly inhale it. It tastes so good that I can’t slow down, and when it’s gone, I want more.
“Jesus,” Samuel says. “And I thought I had an appetite.”
“He’s back home,” Marv says. “They say hunger is the best spice, but that’s not true, homesickness is.”
The other three roll their eyes.
“Marv thinks he’s fucking Hemingway,” John says. “But it’s not like he’s ever been gone from Tuckett Bay long enough to miss it.”
“You don’t read books,” Marv snaps. “Don’t act like—”
“I had to read that book in school, man,” John snaps. “I remember it because it was so damn boring! Just like all your nuggets of wisdom, Marv.”
Marv crosses his arms and looks at me. “Take what you want, man. You want more food? I’ll go get Sophie to—”
He starts to raise his hand, but I pull it down. “No, leave it. I appreciate the help...but I got this.”
Marv nods.
I keep wondering if Sophie will at least come over to say hi, or wave, or even look at me. But she doesn’t. And when it’s time to go, I tell Marv I’ll be a few minutes.
I stand at the door and compose myself. There’s no reason to wait on this, I need to go talk to her. If she wants to slap me, she might as well do it now.
I head back inside and see her swiping a credit card into the register near the back.
I walk right up behind her, but I clear my throat as I get close, so that I don’t scare the shit out of her.
I see her tense up as soon as I make the noise.
“Sophie,” I say. “Mind if we talk?”
She doesn’t turn around to face me. She just slams buttons on the touch screen without looking up at me. I’m pretty sure touchscreens don’t need to be hit so fucking hard. “You want to talk now, Mason? Isn’t it a bit late for that?”
“Probably,” I say. “I mean…”
My mind goes blank. What the fuck? Why can’t I get any damn words out? I’ve wondered what I’d say to her if I ever saw her again—played it back in my mind, thought out all the ways I could explain to her what happened. And now, when it finally comes down to it, I’ve got nothing?
“Nothing to say?” she says. “So I guess we’re done talking.”
“I don’t want you to forgive me,” I say.
“Okay. I don’t forgive you. Happy?”
I bite my lip. “Uh, no, I haven’t been happy in a while, Sophie—”
“Me either,” she snaps. “But it’s not because of you, Mason, nothing about my life for the past decade and a half has been because of—or had anything to do with—you.”
She grabs anoth
er credit card and swipes it, the first one falls to the floor and slides toward me.
I reach down to pick it up. She spins around, looking at me with frenzied anger. “Don’t touch that! It’s a customer’s card!”
I pick it up off the ground anyway. I hold it out to her.
She snatches it out of my hand, not making contact with me at all. “You asshole.”
“You think I’m gonna’ steal Barb Smith’s identity?” I ask.
“So you read her name off the card?” Sophie asks, raising both eyebrows at me. “I told you not to touch it, and you read it.”
“In the special forces...we were trained to memorize anything we saw written down—”
“Great,” Sophie says. “I’m sure that will serve you well on Marv’s fishing boat. Now get out of my way.”
“Sophie,” I say, not moving.
“Move your wide-ass shoulders out of my way, Mason!” she says, shoving me.
It’s not like she could really move me, but feeling her hand on me, the warmth of her skin on my arm again...I just slide out of her way. She bristles past me and doesn’t look back.
I walk out of the Crab Shack and meet up with Marv.
She touched me. She fucking touched me again. And she’s fucking furious with me. That’s great. Nothing gets a woman back into a man’s arms like red-hot fury.
“How’d it go?” he asks.
I smile really wide and nod my head. “Really well, man. I think I’ve got a real shot at this.”
We throw down the anchor and tie the boat to the dock as the sun sets. I’m exhausted, which is nothing new to me, but being exhausted like this, with the salt water cracking my skin, is something I haven’t felt in a long time.
And there’s only one cure for it.
“Drinks?” Ashton asks.
We all nod.
When a fisherman is tired deep down to his bones, he doesn’t sleep, he drinks.
“Tillman’s?” I ask.
Ashton laughs. “I thought you were from here?”
“I am,” I say, narrowing my eyes. “Everyone drinks at Tillman’s.”