He chuckled. “Whatever you say, Frye.”
His face was so close to mine that I could see small flecks of yellow in his blue irises. Despite his deep frown, there was a warmth in his eyes that made my stomach lurch. As I studied them, I couldn’t forget his hand still lingering on my forearm. His touch was comforting and unsettling all at the same time.
My gaze drifted down to his mouth, forever forming that brooding expression. He had the perfect cupid’s bow, as if an artist had masterfully sculpted his lips with clay and heated them in the kiln. I couldn’t help but wonder what they felt like. Were they soft and giving, or hard and insisting? I’d bet anything he tasted like sugary breakfast foods covered in frosting.
His fingers tightened the tiniest bit around my arm, as if he suddenly realized what I was thinking, and then he released me and rubbed the palm of his hand briskly against his thigh. He hopped up from the couch and quickly rounded the ottoman, until several feet separated us. Heat filled my cheeks as I realized what had just crossed my mind.
Kissing Mason was an absolute no-no. A restricted area. A no parking zone. I couldn’t believe my brain had just led me there. What was wrong with me?
“Just let me take a quick shower and we’re out of here,” he said, his voice breaking. He avoided my eye contact and went to put his coffee cup on the kitchen table. “Then, you can tell me exactly what sort of outfit will win Polly back. Sound good?”
“Yep. Good.” I choked on the words as they exited my mouth, but Mason couldn’t hear me. He was already halfway down the hallway, leaving me alone in his living room.
I glanced up at the photographs on the wall. Empty eyes and empty expressions. Nothing like the buzzing going around inside my body, like hornets trying to escape the nest. I swallowed hard and cleared my throat, willing my heart rate to return to normal.
“Not a word from any of you,” I whispered, giving the photos the best stern expression I could muster. “Just give me a couple weeks and Polly won’t be able to keep her hands off of him.”
My promise fell on deaf ears, but it didn’t matter. Just saying it aloud kept me on track for my goal.
No detours allowed.
Chapter Eleven
“If you pick up that pink shirt, so help me, Trina, I’m leaving. Never coming back.”
I smiled down at the salmon colored button-up shirt I’d been running my hands over as Mason huffed behind me. We’d hardly set foot in Banana Republic and already he was prowling back and forth like a circus lion stuck in a tiny cage. I skipped over the offensive shirt and instead went for a navy blue jacket with black buttons and paired it with a plain white tee underneath.
“Fine. No pink allowed.” Pinning the few outfits I’d picked out against his chest, I nodded toward the dressing rooms. “Try these on and then come model them for me. I’ll pick out the winners.”
His eyebrows arched and he shot me an amused expression. “Am I supposed to do a cat walk for you? Maybe strike a pose?”
“If you get the hankering,” I shot back, stifling a giggle. It was hard to imagine Mason Finnick breaking out of his comfort bubble long enough to strut down an imaginary catwalk like a super model. “Now go, before I add the pink shirt to your pile.”
That made him shuffle quickly over to the dressing rooms while I made myself at home in a brown leatherback chair. The mall was still pretty empty for ten o’clock in the morning. I could see a few families walking down the hall, outside the glass front of Banana Republic. Not many high school kids, yet. It was better that way. Less pressure for Mason. We could find him some clothes and pop out of here before anyone saw us.
“I. Hate. This.”
I turned my attention back to the entrance of the dressing room, where Mason stood with his shoulders tensed up nearly to his ears and a scowl on his face. He wore a pair of skinny fit denim jeans with a floral poplin shirt that he’d tried to tuck into the waist. It wasn’t horrible. It just wasn’t...him.
“Yeah, I don’t blame you,” I said, nodding my head thoughtfully.
As uncomfortable as he looked, I couldn’t help but admire the way the shirt hugged his biceps, emphasizing the muscular definition of his arms. Those were the kind of arms that could sweep a girl off her feet. Literally. And that image immediately made me wonder how it felt to be held in Mason’s arms...
Blinking my eyes against the sudden intrusion of unwelcome thoughts, I shook my head. “I don’t think you pull off florals very well.”
His scowl deepened. “You think? What did I do to you in a previous life to deserve this?”
I clapped my hands twice before pointing at the dressing room. There was no point in dragging it out. We had clothes to buy. “Next, please!”
It took a lot of strength not to burst out laughing at the look of pure disdain Mason shot me. But he slowly turned and made his way back to the dressing rooms, where he then tried on the next five outfits I’d picked out.
It wasn’t as difficult to find something for him as he’d made it out to be. Mason had an athletic figure that filled out most of the outfits in every right way possible. His broad shoulders and confident stance made him look like the models on the walls. By the time we were done with Banana Republic and Urban Outfitters, I’d convinced him to buy two brand new outfits that looked completely amazing on him. Even he couldn’t deny that we’d slam dunked our little shopping trip.
“All done,” I said, with a bounce in my step as we walked down the hall. “That wasn’t as bad as you expected, right?”
“Worse.” He shot me a look out of the corner of his eye. “You know, you’re meaner than you look.”
I threw my head back and laughed. As grumpy as Mason acted, he’d been a good sport about the whole thing. He’d put up with my incessant need to accessorize and even allowed me to pick out a new cologne for him to try. It was a delicious and sexy smell, one that reminded me instantly of him. He was wearing it now, the citrus scents wafting with every step he took.
Every so often during our shopping spree, I’d have to stop to remind myself that we were doing this all for Polly. No matter how much fun I had with Mason, no matter how fast these last two hours had gone by, it was all for another girl. The girl he was fated to be with. That reminder had helped keep the distracting thoughts about Mason’s perfectly shaped mouth out of my head.
Those lips belonged to one gal and one gal only. He belonged with her. My teenage hormones would just have to deal with that truth.
No matter how much they rebelled.
“Ready to go home?” I asked.
Maybe it would be better for me to call it a day and put as much space between myself and Mason Finnick as possible. A few hours of chemistry homework should chase him out of my thoughts. And if that didn’t work, there was always calculus.
Mason lengthened his stride, making me have to practically jog to keep up. “Nope, we’re not done yet. I still have a couple more dollars of my Christmas money to blow. Follow me.”
Curiosity caused a grin to break out on my face. Okay, maybe homework would have to wait. Spending a few more minutes with Mason couldn’t hurt.
Right?
He led me to the arcade nestled between a pretzel place and the game shop. It was dark in there, with dozens of flashing lights coming from various games and machines lined against the walls. A couple of middle schoolers were playing on the pinballs at the front. Mason walked right past them and straight to the deepest, darkest corner of the arcade where a massive contraption sat.
“What is that?” I stared at the half-enclosed game with a dinosaur plastered on the side. A two-seater bench sat inside a partial shell, with two massive black guns sitting in holsters before a flashing screen.
“Welcome to Jurassic Park,” Mason said, his mouth twitching with a smile. “You said you were decent at Fortnite. Let’s see if those skills translate into dinosaur hunting. Don’t let me down, Frye. The future of mankind depends on us.”
I rubbed my hands together nervously. Usually, I was
more of a pinball girl. Or the claw machine. Shooting dinosaurs was something new. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. Still, Mason had put up with my torture, so I could put up with his.
“Okay, show me how it works,” I said, sliding into the seat.
“Here’s your gun and here’s the trigger,” he said, sitting next to me.
The bench was so small, our bodies touched. I fought off a shiver as his leg pressed against mine. Inside my head, the name Polly flashed in neon green, reminding me to keep my head on straight.
“Reload with the button on the side,” Mason was saying, bringing me back to planet Earth. “Only shoot the dinosaurs. Don’t hit the people and we’ll win. Got that?”
It was the most enthusiastic I’d seen him yet. His eyes sparkled with anticipation as I fingered the heavy plastic and metal gun.
“Seems like you’ve played this game a lot,” I said.
He shrugged. “When I was a sixth grader, there was a little arcade in the children’s wing of the hospital where my mom worked. She’d let me play there after I got my school work done.”
There was still so much about Mason that I didn’t know. He hardly ever offered up information about his past. This was a rare glimpse. I wanted to know more.
“It seems like you’ve spent a lot of time in hospitals.”
“You really have no idea.” His expression grew dark and there was a lingering question in the air between us, but I wasn’t sure what it meant.
Mason was hinting at something, and I wondered if it had anything to do with his dad. If I’d been braver, I would’ve asked him, but the steel glint in his eyes told me that part of the conversation was over.
“So, let me get this straight,” I said slowly, trying to lighten the mood. “You practically grew up in an arcade and you play video games during your free time. Are you telling me that the star of Rock Valley High’s basketball team is also kind of a geek?”
His jaw tightened and he narrowed his eyes at me. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”
“What would The Rock Valley Biz post about this on their Instagram?” I teased. “What would everyone at school say?”
“Don’t know and don’t care.”
“Well I, for one, like the geeky side of you.”
His scowl faltered and for one millisecond surprise passed over his face. “Really?”
“Yeah.” I took the quarters out of his hand and began sliding them into the coin slot. “Kind of brings you down to Earth. Like you’re not just some athletic god. Untouchable. Immortal.”
He snorted. “That’s not even close to the truth, believe me.”
I looked up from putting the money in the game. “Are you sure?”
“Positive.” He dragged his gaze away from me and then stared at the flashing screen. “If everyone really knew my story, they’d realize I can break, just like anyone else.”
I wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but Mason didn’t give me time to ask. He pressed the start button and a countdown appeared on the screen, with three seconds until game time.
“Wait, wait, wait, I’m not ready,” I squealed, aiming my gun at the screen.
“Just shoot anything that looks like a giant lizard.”
I squealed again and squeezed the trigger as fast as I could. We blasted through the first level, mostly thanks to Mason’s skills with the gun, but by the second one I was getting the hang of it. The third round was a different story. We died thirty seconds into it, a red screen announcing our failure.
“Nooooo!” I yelled, not caring how loud I was.
I could finally understand why Mason had spent so much time playing this game as a kid. It was addictive and adrenaline pumping. The only thing I wanted to do in that instant was shoot more dinosaurs.
Mason pounded the butt of his gun on the bench, his cheeks red with excitement. “We were so close to winning, I could taste it.”
“More quarters, we need more quarters!”
He collapsed against the back of the bench, defeat washing over his face. “That was the last of them. Unless you’ve got a roll up your sleeve, we’re out of luck.”
Disappointment swelled inside me, which was soon followed by an overwhelming urge to giggle. I tried to block it with my fingers, but it burst out, causing Mason to shoot one of his rare grins at me.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
I thought about my parents and their well-laid out plans for me to attend med school. It was highly doubtful that any of those steps including taking a teenage boy to the mall and exterminating dinosaurs with him. And yet, here I was. Mom and Dad would be mortified. I almost wished they could see me.
“I don’t think my parents would approve of dinosaur hunting,” I said between giggles, placing the gun back in the holster. “It’s not exactly on Harvard’s list of requirements for med school applications.”
Mason sighed and placed his own gun back. “You know, life isn’t all about school and making your resume stand out. We could blink out of existence at any second. Trust me, when you’re facing death’s ugly mug, those won’t be the things that flash before your eyes.”
He had to be talking about his dad again. I’m sure something horrible like that would affect every moment of the rest of your life. When I wanted to complain about my parents, all I had to do was think about Mason’s loss and it shut me right up. Did he think about his dad a lot? Did it ever get easier? I opened my mouth to ask, but just as the question reached the tip of my tongue, the sound of laughter and familiar voices reached my ears.
Scrambling to peer around the corner of the game, I spotted a group of cheerleaders standing beside a claw game displaying Ipads and expensive watches up for grab. In the middle of the crew stood Polly, dressed in an effortlessly cool outfit of ragged denim jeans and a crop top. At that moment, I envied her unlike anyone I’d ever envied before now. And when she failed to grab a prize from the claw machine, she and her friends headed back down the hall toward the food court.
“There goes your girlfriend,” I whispered, looking back at Mason. The adrenaline had begun to drain from my system, leaving my insides feeling like a block of ice. “We should probably get going.”
He sat silently on the bench beside me, his eyes glittering in the semi-darkness. Gone was the grin that had lit up his face just moments ago. Back in its place was the brooding, dark expression I’d come to expect.
“You know, she’s not my girlfriend,” he said in a low voice.
‘Yet’, I wanted to say. It was only a matter of time and then the fun would be over. Polly didn’t seem like the kind of girl who played Jurassic Park video games or binged on donuts on Saturday mornings. But that didn’t matter. Mason would be with her and I would have my A+ in class. Just as I’d planned.
I wasn’t sure why that sounded so depressing inside my head.
Chapter Twelve
“It’s time. Let’s go.”
I looked up from my notebook to see Mason march into the library and stand over me, as if he owned the place. He wore one of the new outfits we’d picked out for him this weekend: black jeans, a shiny bomber jacket, with a striped shirt underneath.
It looked great on him. Seriously great. Like he’d just walked off the red carpet with the Jonas Brothers or something. The way that shirt fit his athletic torso was almost distracting. If I stared hard enough, I could just start to see an impression of the rippling abdominal muscles that I knew lay underneath—
Mason snapped his fingers at me, bringing me hurtling back to earth, and frowned, expectation flashing in his eyes.
“What? More dinosaur hunting?” I asked, the corners of my lips turning up at the thought of our weekend adventure. That had been more fun than I’d had in a while. Sometimes, I forgot I was still a teen and that I had a life outside of school, volunteering, and homework.
“No dinosaurs today, other than old Mr. Arnold.” He shut my computer and stuffed it unceremoniously into my backpack. “It’s time to uphold your end of the
bargain, Frye. We’re working on the sculpture today.”
Lightning coursed through my chest. As much as the thought of working on art instead of Research Methods excited me, that meant lying and skipping class. Two things that I really didn’t like to do. My gaze trailed over to the check-out counter to check on the status of our supervisor. The bell for class had rung five minutes ago, but Mr. Arnold was already deep asleep, with pretzel crumbs clinging to his whiskers and the front of his shirt.
“Are you sure we won’t get in trouble?” I asked, chewing on my bottom lip.
Mason let out a dry laugh and turned to glance at Mr. Arnold. “Not a chance. Even if he does wake up, he won’t remember our class is today. He’s two seconds from retiring and thirty seconds past caring.”
He had a point. Mr. Arnold didn’t seem to mind what we did, as long as it didn’t interrupt his afternoon nap. Clasping my notebook close to my chest, I stood from the chair and followed Mason out of the room. He still had my backpack and swung it casually at his side as we headed down the hall.
Now that it was ready to be assembled, the statue had been moved to an empty corner of the shop class. Luckily for us, there were no shop classes during this time of the day. No one to ask where we were coming from or get suspicious of two seniors without supervision. Just a giant, empty classroom with cement floors, unlimited power tools, and total silence.
“Any chance I’ll get to use the blow torch today?” Mason asked, glancing over at me to wag his eyebrows as he set my backpack on a nearby table.
I threw my head back and laughed, dropping my notebook with all my sculpture sketches onto the same table. Typical guy, wanting to jump right into the dangerous stuff. It had taken me days to be comfortable enough to turn the blowtorch on, let alone actually use it.
“I don’t know,” I said slowly, a grin tugging on my lips. “This isn’t hunting fake dinosaurs on a computer screen. This is real life. And potentially dangerous.”
“I like danger.”
“Really? Are you sure you can handle the heat, Mason?”
Dare You to Date the Point Guard (Rock Valley High Book 2) Page 8