by Mia Carson
“I'm tired,” Mason said.
“Poor baby.” My voice shook, but thankfully, it wasn't audible to him.
“Can I test that boobs are great pillows theory?”
My heart nearly stopped. “I mean, if you want to,” I said, “but I find it hard to believe you haven't had your face in someone's tits before.”
“Not for this,” Mason said as he shifted around, half curling up on the sofa. I moved to accommodate him, putting the hand that had been on my chest on his shoulder and sliding down a bit so he could comfortably rest his head. It felt nice, the same way that cuddling into his side did. I started to stroke his hair, and his eyes closed after a couple of seconds. “That's nice.”
I hummed. For a while, neither of us moved. Nothing happened. Still, my stomach was in knots, and my heart pounded so hard it was difficult to breathe evenly. I was certain Mason could hear it. What would he think? Calm down, Ali, I told myself, closing my eyes and inhaling deeply. Just chill the eff out.
“You're right,” Mason finally said. “Your boobs are the best pillows ever.”
“You're drunk.”
“Not as drunk as you.”
“I am so not drunk.”
“You just slurred your 's.'”
“Fuck you.”
“You wish.”
We both tensed, a natural response, one I expected if I was being honest with myself. What I hadn't been expecting was the rush of desire that barrelled through me.
Mason cleared his throat and moved around a bit on the sofa but didn't lift his head. “Sorry.”
“It's cool,” I said. It was a good thing the TV was still on because the silence had settled over us like a blanket that was too heavy. I had stopped stroking his hair. I looked down at him, at the dark head resting on my chest, and touched one finger to his scar. Mason's mouth twitched, but he didn't make an effort to move his head away from my hand.
“What?” he asked, his lips brushing against my finger, sending a spark through my body.
“Nothing. Just…this makes you look, like, super rugged, you know? And I'd be lying if I said I didn't think about how it would feel to kiss you.” Fuck. Why did I say that? I was formulating a quick, awkward, tipsy apology, but Mason's next words stopped me in my tracks.
“Do you wanna find out?”
I couldn't speak. Mason sat up, his eyes dark and his hair mussed from my constant stroking. He braced one hand against the arm of the sofa, boxing me in but leaving plenty of room for me to wriggle away if I wanted to. I didn’t want to. At all.
His skin and hair smelled amazing, though we shared beer breath. I hadn't paid any attention to what body wash and shampoo he used, but it was great. I licked my lips, my gaze going from his eyes to the scar on his mouth and back again. He leaned in slowly, giving me plenty of time to stop him or to move. But I didn't. I sat there, watching him, and didn't close my eyes until I felt the first brush of his lips.
I'd been kissed before, but not quite like that. It was a bit sloppy, but both of us were tipsy, and I probably wasn't at my kissing peak, either. But, God, was it good. His lips were softer than I had thought they were, and I could feel the dent in his lip, like someone had chipped part of it away with care to leave the edges round and smooth. He tasted like beer, but under it, there was something else that I identified as just him, and it was intoxicating.
I slipped my hand back into his hair. It had dried some, but parts of it were still damp, especially in the back where it was thickest. There was the slightest bit of stubble on his jaw, not enough that I had been able to see it, but I could feel its gentle scratching against my face. His tongue brushed my lip, then touched mine. A groan bubbled up in the back of my throat, but I released a sigh when Mason gently teethed my lip. He touched my cheek, then slid his fingers up into my hair. He was trembling. Or maybe that was me. Or maybe both of us. It was impossible for me to tell. The last logical part of my mind that still existed railed at me to stop what I was doing because it was probably the stupidest thing I could possibly let happen, but it was too easy to shut the little voice out and focus on Mason's mouth brushing across my jaw.
My head fell back, more or less on its own. Mason's lips found my throat. He didn't bite or suck or try to leave any marks at all. He just kissed a line down my neck until he could bury his face in the crook of my shoulder.
“Shit,” he said through a huge sigh. “That was—we shouldn't have…shit.”
My hand was still in his hair. I left it, gently scratching the back of his head, a lump in my throat and my heart loud in my ears. I didn't feel so drunk any more, and I could think of nothing to say. Mason pushed away from me and settled back on the other side of the couch, his arms crossed and his hands buried themselves in his pits. I sat up, my lips tingling, my mouth dry, suddenly feeling very sick. There was nothing really wrong with what we had done, but...
A glance at Mason's face told me all I needed to know. He didn't regret it, but it shouldn't have happened, and Tyler could never, ever find out.
“Want another drink?” I asked.
“Fuck, yes,” Mason gushed, and I fetched them gratefully. Getting the beer was better than sitting next to him, stewing in my awkwardness and untimely arousal.
When Mom and Dad got home, I announced I was going to bed for the night and left Mason on his own. I had too much running through my mind to deal with him and my parents at the same time. Besides, there was no way I was going to touch myself twice in one day to thoughts about the same guy. It just wasn't going to happen. I needed to drink about a gallon of water and cool the fuck off before I did something really stupid.
What had I been thinking? Mason was like a second brother to me. I should have never let that happen. But, God, had it been good. I touched my mouth; I could feel the pressure of his lips on mine, still taste that something uniquely him. I threw myself onto my bed and groaned into my pillow. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. We were a little drunk, and it had been a stupid thing for me to ask about his scar and a stupid thing for him to offer to kiss me, that was what it came down to. Drunken stupidity. I didn't have any feelings for him, and he didn't have any for me. He was probably wishing I was Gina.
It wasn't long before I sobered up and the sleepiness sank in, as it always did. My brain was still going a hundred miles a second, but my eyes were burning and my body was sluggish and heavy. I yawned, letting my eyes close, and fumbled around for the blankets, wriggling until I got them out from under me and could curl up with them pulled up to my chin.
Nine-thirty at night, and there were still traces of sunlight outside. Just barely, but they were there. They didn’t stop me from falling asleep, though. Thankfully, I didn't have any dreams—at least not any that I remembered when I woke up—sexy or otherwise. I did have a slight hangover, though, which definitely didn't improve my mood, but I had a perfectly reasonable excuse to stay in my room for the rest of the day.
We didn't talk about the kiss. As far as Mason and I were concerned, it never happened. I had practically convinced myself it had just been another dream, except the memories I had of it were too real. I had plenty of time to think of it during the day, too. Or try to not think about it. But every time I sat on the sofa, it replayed in my mind. Thank Christ Mason worked every day, because if I had to see him more often, I would go crazy. I couldn’t go out of my way to avoid him in the evenings without bringing attention to how weird we were acting. Several times, I found myself sandwiched between him and Tyler on the sofa, trying not to lean into him like I really wanted to do. I wondered if it was the same for him at all. If it was, he had a damn good poker face.
Aside from that, the summer progressed more or less as normal. It stormed heavily the week after the incident, as I preferred to call it, the thunder so loud it felt like the house was shaking. I wasn't as scared of storms as I had been as a kid, but sometimes they still freaked me out, especially when they were so violent. Luckily, the neighbourhood we were in d
idn't easily lose power, and even though Mom put out a bunch of candles and some oil lamps just in case, we all gathered in the living room to watch TV. Dad constantly adjusted the volume to make up for the rumbling above our heads.
“Weather looks nice for the weekend,” Dad commented after the news went off. “We should break out the grill and have a barbecue.” No one actually replied, but the silent agreement was understood. Dad would grill even if no one wanted him to, so there was no point in saying anything.
I sat between Mason and Tyler again, like I always did, curled into myself to keep from touching either of them as we watched evening game shows. I had kissed Mason here. Against the arm where Tyler was sitting. And he had no idea. My lips burned with the memory. I rubbed the back of my hand across them, feeling my frown. Thankfully, everyone else was too distracted by the TV to notice. Everyone except Mason, who had his elbow on the arm of the sofa, his cheek against his knuckles, and was paying attention to me and not the television. I blushed but didn't return his stare. Eventually, he stopped looking at me, but I couldn't shake the feeling his gaze had left.
That Saturday, Tyler worked all day, which meant when it came time to get the supplies needed for Dad's barbecue, Mason and I were handed a rather long list scribbled in Dad's super messy handwriting. He stood next to me, squinting at it with me.
“So, does that say chips or dip?” he asked.
“No idea,” I replied. “Both? I mean, we should probably get both, right?”
“Can't have chips without dip,” Mason reasoned. “Taking my car?”
“If you want.” Dad was still in the kitchen with us, checking if there was anything else we needed. “Dad, is this everything?”
“I think so, kiddo. Now go so we can get started.”
“Don't know why he couldn't have gone to buy this stuff on his own,” I mumbled.
“Dads,” Mason said with a shrug. “Why do something yourself when there are kids to do it?”
“Yeah, I guess,” I said. I checked that I had my wallet and the money Dad gave me and followed Mason out to his car.
The drive to the grocery store felt short, thankfully, and it was good weather for a grill out. It wasn't too hot, and the sun had dried most of the rain from the storm. Even though the list Dad had given us seemed a bit lengthy, at least it would have a good pay-off.
We weren't the only people out picking up stuff for a barbecue. The parking lot was packed with cars, and we had to drive around a couple times before we found a decent place to park.
“This is ridiculous,” I mumbled to myself.
“Don't be so gloomy,” Mason said. “In and out, no big deal. We can do self-checkout.”
“Fine,” I said.
I trailed after Mason, pulling the list out of my pocket and unfolding it. Thankfully, pretty much everything we needed was in the same spot, except for the charcoal, which was stacked outside the shop on large pallets. Mason grabbed one and threw it easily over his shoulder, holding it there with one hand while I got a cart. His muscles bulged with the effort. I tried not to look, but it was hard. His t-shirt was tight, and the bag of charcoal he balanced on his broad shoulders was quite large. A couple ladies threw him appreciative looks as well. A bout of jealousy rose up in me. I squashed it down with a frown and almost banged the cart into Mason's shins. He dumped the bag into the body of the cart, took it from me, and began pushing it. We wove around people of all ages, with and without families. The number of screaming kids was giving me a headache.
“Don't worry,” Mason said, noticing my irritation. “We'll be done soon, and the only screaming kids are going to be the neighbours’ two houses down. And us, if you can count us as kids anymore.”
“I don't think we qualify,” I said, but his comment did make me smile. “Wouldn't mind being a kid again, though. Everything was so much easier.”
“Yeah,” Mason said. There was something heavy in his voice I couldn't read. “Yeah, it was.”
I all but buried my nose in the list. Most of what we needed was on the snack aisle. Dad hadn't written any specifics, so I grabbed a bag of his favourite chips and loaded the cart with what Tyler and I liked. He and Mason had the same tastes, which made everything a lot easier. It was just the crowd of people everywhere that made the trip take longer than it should have. Still, we got out without too much trouble, loaded up the car, and headed home.
There wasn't much point in unpacking and putting anything away, so Mason and I carried everything out back where Mom and Dad had already put out plates and napkins for everyone. Dad had invited the neighbours over, too. I wasn't too familiar with the Delaneys, but they were nice people who didn’t have children. I helped Mom put out chips and dip and the veggie platter while Mason took the charcoal over to Dad and lit the grill for him. He came back for the chicken and beef patties Dad had asked us to pick up and smiled at me. His scar twisted with the curve of his lips. I remembered how it felt to kiss him and blushed, looking away. When Tyler brought out a cooler full of beer, I grabbed one and downed a good portion of it in one gulp.
“Fuck, sis,” Tyler said, his eyes wide in surprise. “Easy on the booze. I don't wanna deal with your hungover ass tomorrow.”
I sneered at him and stuck out my tongue. He rolled his eyes but left me alone. He and Mason ducked in and out of the house, fetching things Dad needed, while I lounged in a chair and ate way too many chips. I wasn't going to drink as much as I had the last time there had been beer around, but it was a nice cool beverage on a hot summer day. I replaced it with soda after one can. Mason and Tyler started to kick Tyler's soccer ball back and forth, laughing like the old friends they were. I was jealous of their relationship. Mason and I were close, but it was nothing like the relationship he and Tyler had, and now it was just totally screwy. Not talking about the elephant in the room didn't mean it wasn't there.
It wasn't too long before the heat started to bother me. An uncomfortable sweat prickled at the back of my neck, and I had eaten my fill of chips and burgers. It was easy for me to slip inside without anyone noticing. Inside the house, it was quiet and cool. I could hear muffled voices through the back door, but the further into the house I went, the quieter they became until I couldn't hear them at all.
I headed upstairs, seeking my bed and my laptop, at least for a little while, and some peace and quiet from all the people and noise in the backyard. I left my door open, only a crack, and stretched out on top of my blankets. I wasn't up there for long before I heard the door open and shut and footsteps on the stairs. I paused the video I was watching, thinking it was Mom or Dad coming up to check on me, but it was Mason who knocked on my door and poked his head in.
“Hey, you feeling okay?”
“Yeah,” I replied, dropping my eyes from him down to my bed, toying with the edge of one of my blankets.
“You sure?” Mason replied. I heard him slip in and shut the door behind him, and the end of my bed dipped under his weight. “You've been really quiet lately.”
“And why do you think that is?” I asked defensively, glancing at him.
He ran a hand through his hair. When he answered, he avoided the subject. “The fam wants to go see a movie. Thought I'd come up and ask you if you're interested.”
“Not really,” I replied.
Mason sighed. “Okay. I'll go let them know.”
I ignored him and went back to my video. I figured he would leave with everyone else. Over the next few minutes, I heard talking and footsteps and my mom called out a goodbye to me before the door shut behind everyone. For a long time, it was quiet. I got lost in my show and didn't know Mason was still home until I looked up and saw him lingering in my doorway. I jumped, despite my best efforts, and let out a stream of curses.
“You scared the shit out of me!” I hissed. “I thought you were going to the movies.”
“I didn't feel like it,” Mason said. “I wanted to stay here. I...I wanted to hang with you.”
�
�I don't really feel like hanging out right now,” I said. Mason slipped into my room, shut the door behind him, and sat on my bed again. He looked nervous, his hands folded in his lap and his legs bouncing. “What?” I asked.
“I can't stop thinking about kissing you,” Mason said. My heart leapt into my throat. I swallowed hard over the lump it made and slowly closed the top of my computer. “I know we've been dancing around the subject, but I'd be lying if I said it wasn't constantly on my mind. And I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to do it again.”
“Are you drunk?” I asked.
Mason laughed dryly and shook his head. “I wish I was,” he said, “but no. I am one hundred percent sober.”
“Mason—”
“Just, hear me out, okay?” he said. I shut my mouth and waited while he took a deep breath. “I know you think I have a crush on Gina, but it's not her that I like. I was being honest when I said she's just a friend. I was just...I don't know—worried, I guess, that talking about another girl would make you jealous, but I guess I kind of messed that up regardless. I know that I shouldn't, because you're practically a sister to me, and Tyler is my best friend in the whole world, but...” He looked up at me, and the look in his eyes took my breath away. “You're the one I like, Ali. I can't help it, but I do. I want to kiss you, and I don't want to stop. There's nothing I can do about it. So, that's that, I guess.”
My heart was beating out of control, and my mind was in overdrive. I had been trying to simply ignore what had happened and the feelings the incident had caused, and Mason had just slapped me in the face with it. I sighed and ran a hand over my face. What was I supposed to say? I could hardly make sense of my own feelings, whatever they were. I had liked kissing him, I had wanked twice while thinking about him. Did I want to risk the relationship I had with him and my brother? To take things further?
“Ali?” Mason asked. “If you want me to leave, just say it and I will, and I won't bring this up again. I promise. It's just that it’s been killing me to keep it a secret from you.”