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Mason:In fact, you should just stay in your room until I get back so you’re not tempted to start without me.
“That sounds datey, doesn’t it?” I ask.
“Totally datey,” Mary confirms. “Also, I like that he uses punctuation in his texts. That’s dreamy.”
“Punctuation in texts is totally hot. But I also like howbossyhe sounds. Mason’s usually so chill.” I bite my lip. “This is new. Different. I like it.”
I can’t stop the shiver coursing through my body. And I really don’t want to. Same with the huge smile that overtakes my face, making my cheeks ache.
Mary squeals and gives me a side hug. “I have a good feeling about this. I’ll grab the check. You better get home and get ready for your totally-a-date with Mason Bossy Punctation Pants.”
I laugh and toss some money on the table. “You’re looking at the hopeful future Mrs. Mason Bossy Punctuation Pants.”
“That does have a nice ring to it.” Mary pauses and clears her throat. “Oh, and Chels? You should probably wash your hair maybe justonemore time.”
* * *
Despite what Mary suggested, I don’t want to go on these John-sanctioned dates. Not for jealousy’s sake. Not even because I promised.
But, in typical John fashion, when I call to tell him, he turns it into a negotiation. Somehow, I’m both the one being negotiated withandthe hostage.
“I don’t feel right about it,” I tell John. I’ve got the phone on one ear and my other pressed to the door, listening to whatever Mason is doing out there. He got home about twenty minutes ago and texted me to stay in my room for a little bit longer.
Longest twenty minutes of my life.
“Why don’t you feel right about it?” John asked.
I could tell him it’s because I’m only interested in one guy, and he’s not on an app. The guy I’m interested in is currently in John’s kitchen doing … something with an electric mixer?
“You have an electric mixer?” I ask.
“Don’t change the subject,” John says. “And yes—my kitchen is fully stocked.”
“But you don’t cook. Or bake.”
“Focus, Chelsea. How about this—just go on seven dates. That’s one week’s worth of guys. If you don’t find someone you’d go on a second date with, I’ll consider your oath fulfilled.”
“I didn’t make an oath. I said I’d owe you a favor,” I say. “And how about two dates.”
“It was a promise. Five dates.”
“Three.”
There’s a pause on the line, and finally, John sighs. “Fine. Three guys, three dates. Promise?”
This time, I feel a lot better since I know the scope of the promise. No more open-ended agreements with my brother. “Promise.”
“Now, can I go back to sleep?” he asks through a yawn.
I cringe. “Right. Sorry. Forgot about the time difference. Sweet dreams!”
We hang up, and I focus my full attention back on listening through the door. What is Mason DOING out there? There’s only silence now, and I’m tired of waiting.
Deciding to ignore his text, I throw open my bedroom door—and run straight into Mason. Which isn’t theworstthing to run into. Not when he’s all solid muscle and the warmth of a thousand suns as his hands lightly grasp my arms.
Mmm… I love the sun.
“Whoa there,” he says.
