It hurt so bad. ‘Cause I’d been hoping, hoping, hoping he could somehow show me (or convince me) that we could really, truly be together. Really be a couple. But no. Of course not. It was already right back to usual with him—out of sight out of mind. I was out of his sight—so I was once again completely out of his mind. Grrr!
I was sooo sad and hurt and disappointed. Still, I knew I should have expected it—the big let down. Mason just isn’t a relationship kind of guy. Yet I’d been a pathetic sap and let my hopes get up. Like a mile high.
With a sad little sigh, I opened my locker, then—whoa! A bunch of kid’s hockey gear came tumbling out.
What the—???
CHAPTER 42
MASON
The morning after climbing up to Summer’s window was a day off from school for a teacher conference/enrichment thing. (I love those.)
I spent the day secretly watching Summer. Okay, you could call it stalking, only I didn’t feel like it was. I was doing research.
It started out just as a coincidence—me following her. I mean, I hadn’t started out the day with the intent of stalking my sort-of-sister/sort-of-girlfriend/sort-of-nothing-but-a-dream.
I was at the mall getting my aunt her cell phone, which she forgot the day before at the photography studio in the mall. She’d been getting pictures of my cousins. I just know that because it seemed like she did it once a month. At least. She was supposed to be saving money to buy her own place, but she kept buying all these cute matching outfits for my cousins to wear instead, then going to the photography studio and getting their pictures taken in them. She was like, addicted to doing that. It was like she needed an intervention. I wasn’t complaining. I’m just sayin,’ she needed help.
Anyway, I got the cell phone, then I saw Summer … and I followed her.
The girl turns heads everywhere she goes. But she’s used to it, so she ignores it—unless she’s feeling generous, in which case she’ll give a guy a smile. Give his heart a little thrill and make his day. But today Summer wasn’t feeling generous. She was on a mission. She was shopping … for once not pining over shoes. She was looking for hockey gear for Danny. But our mall doesn’t carry stuff like that. Only Summer didn’t know that.
Thing was—she could have come to me … but she didn’t. It made me wonder why. Wonder what I did—ever—to make her think she couldn’t come to me with anything. I mean, I knew she’d come to me for something big—like a guy stealing her clothes, or taking steamy pictures of her. But I wanted her to come to me for anything—everything—big or small.
I wondered why it was so hard for her to do that. It made me think again about that day in the school parking lot when I let her down so bad. Made me relive standing out there with her and her mom, watching her tremble as she stared at Amber and me together. Seeing her quiver like that—and turn so ashen—it had scared me. Broke my heart.
And then I learned she was leaving—that she was going away to freakin’ Connecticut—and she hadn’t even told me. It shattered me. I’d wanted to take her hand and hold it to my chest, let her feel what she did to my heart. And how there was no way it would go on beating without her.
I was thinking about that stuff now as I followed her. Thinking and brooding. Watching her on her hopeless mission for hockey gear.
And I was like, Man, why didn’t she come to me about this?
I mean, hockey’s my thing. (I’d like Summer to be my thing. But hockey is a sure thing.) Me and hockey, we’re tight.
So, I watched Summer shopping for something hopeless and it bugged me. Left me wondering what I had to do to get this chick to come to me. I mean, it was easier when we lived in the same house. But even then, sometimes, it had been like pulling teeth to get her to ask me—for anything. I guess she just didn’t feel like she could depend on people. Not her parents—and not even me. But that sucked. I wanted her to know she could depend on me.
Why didn’t she know that?
Then I groaned, running a hand over my face, suddenly remembering something else—another time besides the parking lot ordeal that had seemed (in her eyes) like I’d let her down.
I winced thinking about it.
That night at Jake’s party—the one when she’d been dancing all sexy with her friend. That night … man, even now, the thought of it gave me the shakes.
I remembered every second of that night in vivid detail. Every. Second. Way, way too clear for comfort. Being with Summer like that. Taking her in my arms. I could feel her body shudder when I kissed her, hear her soft little moans while our mouths got happily acquainted.
I was in heaven for that little bit … yet in hell. ‘Cause I knew we weren’t thinking the same kind of stuff—she was just messing around … I was falling in love.
So yeah, I’d purposefully scared her—sort of. Not bad, though. I just didn’t hold back like I usually did. ‘Cause she was playing me at that party. Messing with me. Not totally consciously. But still, the girl could work me up without even trying. So, attempting to get my attention—well, she got it. She just didn’t really want it. And I knew it. But man it had felt good to give her some attention for once—give her some of that hungry, longing attention that was building up inside me.
But yeah, I’d known it wasn’t going to go anywhere—our hot awesome make-out. I wouldn’t have really let it. But I needed her to see I wasn’t messing around. Of course she took it the wrong way. Instead of getting it—that it was a warning—she thought it was some sort of rebuff. I seriously did not get that. At all. But I let her take it however she wanted. She knew what I meant—she shouldn’t mess with me unless she wanted to be messed with. ‘Cause man, she was tempting.
So yeah, that night I finally moved out. Had to. After kissing her like that there was no way we could live in the same house. No way I could pretend she was my sister anymore. After tasting those sweet, soft lips. No way.
But then—man, it had been torture. It felt like Summer hated me after I moved out. She’d bail on any “family” thing where I was invited and she’d walk the other way if she saw me in the school halls.
All that crap—it killed me.
I swear, I went through months after that where the only way I could stay away from her was by getting into fights—lots of fights. So it helped that I was on the hockey team. I’d take out my frustrations on the puck and the other team, and then grab the nearest blond and hope she wouldn’t be upset if I accidently called her Summer.
Still, I knew (well, hoped) Summer’d come around (stop hating me), ’cause we’d meant too much to each other to let a fight come between us. So, I lived my life with my heart on hold—waiting, hoping, praying for Summer.
For her to get that with us it couldn’t just be messing around—not like it was with all those other guys she played with. ’Cause with us it wouldn’t just be a fling. It would be for real.
Then I heard her poem. (Man, that poem!!) When I figured out it was about her and me—that she wrote it—it whipped me up. Got my heart pounding and got me hoping that finally—(finally!!)—she figured it out: We were meant to be together.
But then she crushed me in the closet. I swear, she blew me away.
So, then I did what I started to always do when I was longing for Summer—I called Amber.
Amber was like a crutch I’d started to lean on. She didn’t act or sound like Summer. At all. But she looked like her. And smelled like her. And when I was with her, I could close my eyes and pretend I was holding Summer. Or close off reality and pretend I wasn’t a messed up freak. It didn’t exactly work—using Amber like that—but I couldn’t exactly be choosy. I mean, all I wanted was Summer. Amber was as good of a substitute as any, I figured. Okay, really she was a bad substitute. But then again, anyone would be. All I wanted was Summer.
So, yeah, I was screwed.
… Or thought I was.
Then I accidently read Summer’s journal. It blew my mind. Blew it in the most glorious kind of way. After reading that one e
ntry—over and over, non-stop for like an entire night practically—just to make sure I really got it. (And okay, I loved it.)
I swear, I actually started shaking when I finally figured out I actually had a chance with her.
She thought I wasn’t ready for a relationship.
All I had to do was show her. Show her that no, I wasn’t ready for “a” relationship. But I was ready for “our” relationship.
I’d been ready a long time now. I was just waiting on her.
CHAPTER 43
SUMMER
Yesterday (Tuesday) had been horrible. First of all, I spent the whole day waiting anxiously for Mason to do his grand gesture—which never came. That was heartache number one. Number two was, I searched high and low through practically every store in the mall looking for hockey gear for poor Danny … and finding nothing. Absolutely nothing!! His first hockey practice is tomorrow, but neither my mom nor his stupid dad had time to shop for the stuff Danny needs from his hockey-gear list. And then I turned up yesterday with a big fat nothing.
So, yeah, when I got to my locker this morning, I was feeling low as could be. But now here I am: I open my locker door and … all this hockey stuff falls out. I stare at it with my mouth hanging open. Then my heart starts pounding. Because I look up and there’s Mason. The way he’s looking at me, it’s like he’s been standing there staring at me a long time.
“That’s my hockey gear—from when I was a kid,” he says softly.
I blink at him. “Yeah,” I choke out, my heart now in my throat. “I figured that.”
He leans against the locker beside me and closes his eyes. “So … are we going to do this?—give it a shot? Be a couple?”
My heart pounds. I can’t believe he’s really asking me this. Him. Magical Mason.
The bell rings and I’m not sure what to say. I want to jump into his arms and pant yes. Of course. But yesterday—when he broke my heart to pieces by not contacting me—I decided for the hundredth-thousandth time I should stay away from him. My heart is too vulnerable and tender when it comes to him. I mean, it shattered simply from him not calling me. I’m not used to a guy having so much power over me. It’s scary.
“Look, I need to get to class,” I tell him. “Can we talk later?”
His answer is a slow nod.
Then he says, like it’s a stupid question, “Whenever you want.”
***
I sit all through class having no idea what my teacher is saying. If she’s even talking English. I’m in a dreamy daze thinking about Mason and how he stood at my locker this morning looking at me with his gorgeous hungry eyes. Hungry for me. Wanting us to be a couple. The thought gives me goose bumps and makes me smile. Mason’s hungry for me … just like I’ve always been hungry for him. The thought washes over me in waves, filling me with warmth. And filling me with excited certainty.
We’re meant to be together. We are. Mason’s question from earlier seems like a no-brainer now. Of course I want to be with Mason. I’ve always wanted to be with Mason.
CHAPTER 44
As soon as the bell rings, I rush to Mason’s locker. But when I get there, there’s a girl at it, obviously waiting for him. Seeing her, all the air gets knocked out of me.
It’s the gorgeous blond Mason had been out in the parking lot with the day I’d left Jefferson High school. The girl that he’d had wrapped in his arms after he’d pinned me in the janitor’s closet. Seeing her standing there—obviously waiting for him—it feels like I’ve been slugged in the stomach. Hard. A total sucker punch. ‘Cause I definitely wasn’t expecting this—him to still have girls waiting around for him.
Everything inside me winds tight. I really can’t believe this. Her. Here. After Mason said he wants us to be together—as an actual “couple.”
But here she is—his biker chick—in her high boots, and ‘Come take me—I’m yours’ make-up job. She doesn’t look like someone who’s been jilted or is just a friend. She looks like someone who’s ready for some serious mackin’. And she’s impatiently waiting for it.
My heart sinks to the ground. And breaks.
Wow, he’s still with her? I mean … wow. On so many levels. It’s unbelievable, actually. (More than just the obvious one—that he said he wants to be with me.) But what’s just as incredible is usually Mason goes through relationships faster than me. In fact, he doesn’t even have relationships. He just has dates. And you really can’t even call them that. They’re just random make-out sessions. With girl after girl after girl. Totally random. Except for the girls have to be hot. And usually blond.
Yet here she is—Blondie—still in his life three months later. It has to be a first.
Though my heart is totally shattering, my head tells me to take a deep breath. It says, either walk away and never look back. Or ask this chick what she’s doing here. I mean, obviously it’s only to see Mason. ’Cause, well, she’s at his locker. And she doesn’t go to our school. She either goes to college or she has a career as a stripper or model or something like that—something sleazy or sexy. (Not that college is exactly sexy—but the one she goes to apparently is, like she’s majoring in it [sexy] or something.) But the thing is, she wouldn’t be here, at our school, if it wasn’t for Mason, so my head is telling me, find out what she wants. Why she’s here.
The walking away thing seems easier. Way easier. But my heart is still holding out for Mason…. Maybe she’s just here to give him back his things or something breakup-y like that. Though she doesn’t look like it. At all. She looks like she’s here for a hot date. With a hot guy. Mason.
Swallowing down the huge golf-ball in my throat, I finally trail over to Blondie and choke out, “Mason’s still seeing you?”
She eyes me up and down, then mutters, “Good question. He told me we’re over. But he’s said that before—and yes, he does see other girls. Constantly. Well, other blonds. But he always comes back to me.” Her lips twist into a smug sneer. “So, yeah, he’s still seeing me—probably.”
I walk away from her without saying a word. My insides are churning. She seems so confident—though she came right out and admitted it, Mason said they are over.
It bugs me—why is she so confident? It’s like she feels she has some strange hold over Mason. It makes me shudder. I hate that. So much. A girl with power over Mason. No!
Just as the bell rings, I get to my locker. There’s another surprise in it. This time it’s a book. It’s a signed copy of, “Broken Alley.” My favorite novel of all time. I read to Mason while he was sick, years ago. It’s a first edition, and the book is out of print. It must have cost a fortune.
The world kind of swirls while I stare at it—this book Mason had groaned about when I first started reading it to him. But then he’d sat listening to it for hours—hours!!—staring at me as I read as though the book took his breath away.
I stare at the book in a confused daze. Stare and stare. In wonder. My heart pounding.
I glance up, and there is Mason again. His eyes still hungry.
Barely able to breathe, I swallow.
My voice hitching, I whisper, “What’s this for?”
“For being my life.”
Then he walks away.
CHAPTER 45
I blink, watching Mason walk away. Head for his next class. But no way. No freakin’ way! I chase after him.
I grab his arm and he stops, frozen.
He eyes my hand on his forearm, but he doesn’t say anything. Just stares at it. Slowly, his gaze meets mine. He squints. “You’re ready to talk now?”
I stammer out, “Thank you for the gear for Danny—and for the book. Thank you so much.”
He leans against the wall. “That’s not the talk I want.”
I wonder if he knows his biker chick is here—at the school. Looking for him. Waiting for him.
I push the thought of her out of my brain—well, try. She said he told her they are over. If she has some strange hold over him he’s obviously trying to break it. I d
efinitely want to help him with that. Definitely. I love Mason. I do. I hate that a girl can wield power over him. Hate it so much it hurts.
I wet my lip, my heart pounding. “What exactly do you want?”
He juts his chin. “I want you, Summer.”
I make this choking noise, and a tiny smile lights his eyes.
It’s not that I’m shocked by his words—well, yes I am actually. But more—it’s just … they came from Mason. This boy that has always been larger than life to me. This boy that I’ve wanted forever … but I thought I could never have. Here he is—saying he wants me. It’s almost too much for my heart to bear. It’s going to explode from too much happiness.
Mason watches my eyes a moment. Then he curls his fingers around mine and says softly, “Come over tonight and I’ll make you dinner.”
He says it like he’s proposing a date. (!!!)
I cough out another choking noise. ’Cause Mason on a date??? (Jaw dropping.) But the even bigger whoa is: Mason … making dinner??? Mason???
I choke out, “Really?”
He seems amused by my skepticism. But all he does is this adorable little shrug. “Come over and see.”
This warm tingling feeling washes through my body as I think about it. Big, tough Mason making me dinner.
“Okay,” I whisper. “This I want to see.”
“So you’re agreeing to give us a chance?” Mason studies me for confirmation, feigning skepticism. When I nod, the cutest smile creeps on his lips. “This I want to see.”
CHAPTER 46
The thought of Mason cooking me dinner made my stomach tickle. So did his shy smile when he realized I was going to do it—I was going to give “us” a chance. His happy smile made my heart pound and practically burst into confetti.
Louder Than Words (Fall For Me) Page 13