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Rather than sinking into the vacant seat at my side, Mason loops his ankle around the leg of the small table across from where I’m sitting, tugs it closer, and drops down directly in front of me, accepting nothing less than my full, undivided attention.
He’s quiet a moment, a frown he tries to fight but can’t seem to erase pulling at the edges of his eyes. Several seconds pass,maybe a minute or two even before he opens his mouth, his voice a warm, wounded whisper.
“Hi, Pretty Little.”
My lungs expand with a full breath hearing the nickname he gave me the day we met. It was born of innocence, a tease really from the fun and flirty man living it up on the beach, but it’s become so much more than that, and the affectionate way in which he speaks it pulls me back from the panic threatening to take over. My lips curve into a soft smile, and his follow.
“Hi, Mase.”
He stares, gaze traveling over my face before settling on my single braid. This time, when his eyes come back to mine, there’s a spark there. It’s fleeting, and if I had blinked, I’d have missed it. Something warms in my chest, and I wonder if, subconsciously, I decided on a braid for his benefit or if it really was for the time factor.
My cheeks heat at the thought, but thankfully it’s dark out.
Mason looks to the sky, dewy with the July night air, and when he looks back to me, his entire demeanor softens.
It’s too much, and I drop my gaze to my lap, picking at the little balls of lint on the blanket covering my thighs.
“Payton—”
“I think I’ll go to bed after all.” I push to my feet swiftly, my knees bumping his as I do.
When my feet won’t move and Mason doesn’t either, I chance a glance at him.
A crestfallen expression takes over his features, and slowly he stands. We’re so close, both wedged between the seat and table.
My chest is pressed to his stomach, and if I were to tip my chin the slightest bit, my forehead would rest against his pecs. His hand raises, and I jolt when the heat of his knuckle grazes my cheek. He pulls back, and when I look up at him in question, his smile is forced.
“Just a little water,” he whispers, and only then do I realize a tear slipped.
I didn’t even feel it.
The sound of the sliding glass door opening reaches us, so Mason turns, heading straight to the ice chest. He grabs two beers, popping open a third and finishing it before his feet reach the sand. Walking in the opposite direction of his friends, he disappears under the dark night sky.
Dropping back in my seat, I close my eyes, hoping the deep breath will help hide the turmoil in my mind.
He walked away, knowing I needed him to. I fight the tears threatening to come back, guilt swimming through me for liking how he always knows what I’m feeling and hating that I do. He shouldn’t be able to read me the way he does.
But he’s always been that way, hasn’t he?
The cushion beside me dips, and I drop my head back to the soft pillow behind me, glancing over at my friend.
Arianna Johnson stares in the direction her twin brother just headed before turning to me with a small smile. “Want to tell me what happened between you two?”
Tensing, I swallow the knot in my throat and look out over the moonlit water.
I force my lips to lift in the corners, accepting the can of cream soda she passes my way. “Nothing happened.”
She tips her head a bit, and after a moment, she nods.
Ari doesn’t call me out on my lie, but we both know it is one.
What happened between Mason and me?
God. Where would I even begin…
CHAPTER TWO
Payton
