Stay: A Second Chance Badboy Romance

by Melinda Minx

  “Can you do me a favor?” I ask. “Can you go outside and tell me that guy out there isn’t Mason Steel?”

  “Oh,” she says. “Yeah, Mason is back. I heard Marv mention it.”

  Mason is back. No. He’s not supposed to come back. It’s one thing to disappear and never be seen again, it’s another thing entirely to come back.

  I feel the shock turn to anger. It flares up in my chest, and my nails dig into my palms.

  “You gonna’ get those drinks?” Melanie asks.

  “You get the fucking drinks,” I hiss.

  “Hey?” she asks, putting a hand on me. She looks at me, then I see a spark of memory hit her face. “Oh. You guys dated, didn’t you? Wasn’t that a fling?” She sees my face twist up when she says it. “Oh, okay, so definitely not a fling.”

  “He told me he’d come back to me,” I whisper.

  “He’s back,” Melanie says.

  “After fifteen fucking years! He stopped writing to me after about a year. I thought he was…”

  I was going to say “the one,” but I don’t want to sound like a naive idiot.

  Melanie sighs. “I heard he hasn’t been back the whole time, sweetie, probably best you didn’t wait for him. Though you’re single now, aren’t ya?”

  I stare daggers at her. Everyone has been trying to set me up with their brother or their cousin or their nephew since I came back to Tuckett Bay. Melanie knows I’m single, she’s just asking it like a question to put ideas into my head.

  “Can you…” I say. “Can I not serve his table?”

  “Uh,” Melanie says. “Sure, but that’s your plan? Just to ignore him. I think he’s planning to stay.”

  “Yes,” I say through clenched teeth. “He just ignored me. He didn’t even have the dignity to tell me it’s over, why should I pay attention to him now?”

  5

  Sophie

  Fifteen Years Ago

  The bell rings signaling the start of sixth period Chemistry class, and everyone keeps talking…but no one is talking to me. I don’t have a lot of friends.

  I turn around in my seat and take a look at Mason Steel. Plenty of people are talking to him. He’s a senior, and every girl in school is wondering who he’s going to ask to Homecoming.

  One of my few friends, Steph, says he’s not going to ask anyone. He’s too cool to even go to Homecoming, according to Steph.

  Compared to all the other boys in class, Mason looks like a man. He has thick, muscular arms, a wide chest, and broad shoulders. He’s taller than every other boy in school, towering over them. His cheekbones are sharp enough to cut glass, and his cobalt blue eyes are always brooding, despite their bright color.

  I sigh. One thing is sure enough though, even if he does ask someone to Homecoming, it sure as hell won’t be me.

  My parents couldn’t afford to get me braces until the end of my sophomore year—after I got a part-time job to help them pay for them—and my teeth were a total, ugly mess. They are just starting to look okay now, but it’s already almost the end of my junior year. The orthodontist suggested wearing my headgear to school because that extra time would have me out of braces quicker. I did that one time—one single time—and the merciless ridicule was so bad that I’m still called “Robot Girl” to this day.

  And since I didn’t keep wearing my headgear to school, I’ll still have my braces on for Homecoming. And, even without the braces, I'm kind of a geek. Then, to top it off, I'm all awkward-looking... my breasts starting filling out all of a sudden last year, and it embarrasses the hell out of me. I wear big, baggy sweatshirts to cover them up.

  “Quiet!” Mr. Holloway shouts. “Class has started. We’re going to start out today by going over your tests.”

  Oh, the test! I perk right up and smile, but I hear the rest of the class all groaning.

  “What are you smiling at, Robot Girl?” my classmate Melanie hisses at me. “What kind of nerd gets excited about a test?”

  I cross my arms and slouch down in my seat. My shoulders slump.

  Mr. Holloway starts handing out the tests. Every time he passes out a test, the student he hands it to reacts as if it’s a gut punch. There are heads falling down onto desks, load groans, and a lot of under-their-breath swearing.

  “Relax,” Mr. Holloway says. “This was a very difficult test. There will be a curve.”

  That kills the groaning just a little bit. I watch Mr. Holloway hand Mason Steel his test. No, I watch Mason’s face. Mason’s never actually been nice to me, but then again, he’s also never been mean or nasty to me either. I use that little piece of truth as evidence to convince myself that he secretly has a big crush on me. I’m pretty sure it’s not true—if he had a crush on me, he’d at least look at me from time to time—but it’s fun to pretend.

  Mason looks down at his paper, and rather than groaning or whining, his shoulders sag just a little bit. He starts to skim his fingers across the paper, shaking his head.

  “Melanie,” Mr. Holloway says, putting a paper face down on Melanie’s desk, “Slide this over to Sophie. Don’t look at it.”

  He turns away and moves on to the next student.

  No. Please, no.

  Melanie grabs the paper, flips it over, and looks right at it. “A ninety-two?! Robot Girl ruined the curve!”

  I snatch my test paper out of her hand. Shit! I missed a full question and got partially marked off for another. I know I could have done better.

  Okay, so maybe my “Robot Girl” nickname is also because of stuff like this, not just the headgear.

  “Everyone will get eight points added to their score,” Mr. Holloway drones.

  Everyone turns their heads to glare at me. Mason is sitting behind me, so I can’t see him, but I don’t dare look to see if he’s glaring at me, too. Judging from his reaction when he first looked at his test, he didn’t do so well. He’s probably furious with me, too, and if I see him giving me that look everyone else is, it will shatter my fantasy about him having a crush on me.

  We go over the test for most of the class. When I finally dare turn around to see how Mason is doing, I see him looking down at his test. He has a confident smirk on his face.

  The bell rings ending class, and I try to get out of there as fast as I can. I want to disappear into the crowds in the hallway. If I can put a few hundred feet between me and the chemistry room, all the people who are mad at me will be too far spread out for the anger to flare up into a mob against me. High school students have short memories, and by tomorrow, they will barely remember that they’re supposed to be angry with me.

  But no, Mr. Holloway runs out before any of the students do. I hear a lot of the boys joking that Mr. Holloway probably has IBS, so it might be a while before he gets back to the classroom.

  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 dead 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, an
d 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.”