“Not at all.”
The sun was almost completely below the horizon by this point, the last gasps of the evening still hovering just above the horizon. I didn’t see a bench or chairs anywhere nearby, so I took a seat on the rolling ground beneath me. Mason looked at me for a second like I was crazy, but then settled right down beside me.
At first, though our shoulders touched, we did nothing more. Even this close contact was enthralling, a wonder if it might lead to more.
“I don’t get to do this too often,” Mason said.
His words caught me off-guard. I hadn’t expected him to say more than two or three words when he spoke.
“Yeah?” I said, turning to him.
His eyes gazed ahead. But there was something beautifully calm about them that was difficult to put into words. I couldn’t describe it perfectly, but I could say that I felt like I was seeing a tranquil Mason for one of the first times ever.
It had nothing to do with what he was doing—I’d seen him plenty of times just doing nothing. Rather, it looked more like his mind and his soul were relaxed. If the eyes were the gateway to the soul, it was a pretty unguarded gateway at the moment.
“Most of the time, I’m running around and trying to deal with club shit,” he said, “and in recent times, it’s gotten harder and harder, darker and darker. I think I should come out here more often.”
“Aww,” I said, using the excuse of something sweet to lean my head into his shoulder.
That wasn’t even that sweet.But you know what was? Resting my head on his sturdy, muscular shoulder. Feeling his muscles tense, and then relax.
Feeling like I could be physically vulnerable with someone.
“Rachel,” he said.
There was something worn about his voice. I moved my head and I looked up.
But then when I looked into his eyes, I found I could not pull away. I didn’t want to pull away. They were far more beautiful, locked onto me, than any sunset, any coffee date, anything else could be.
I knew where this was drifting to. I knew this was a spot that I hadn’t gone to in nearly a decade. I was almost waiting for the moment when memories would flare up and I’d have to pull away…but they weren’t coming.
I was…ready.
I was ready for this.
I was ready forhim.
I leaned forward, slowly, pausing a couple times when I wasn’t sure if Mason wanted me to continue. But he, too, leaned forward. For a sliver of a second, we paused just inches from each other’s face, perhaps wondering if this was real.
But it most certainly was real.
And I was most certainly glad it was.
I closed my eyes, grabbed his cut, and pulled him to me.
And I kissed him.
Mason
It felt so right.
Rachel Reid and me. Rachel Reid and Mason Jett. Ten years ago, it might have felt somehow inappropriate. Now that we were both adults, both grown people who understood each other—though she didn’treallyunderstand me, no one did—the age difference didn’t matter as much. And frankly, for everything she’d been through, Rachel had more maturity than people older than me.
But it also felt so wrong.
I didn’t want to think about it too much, but the last time Rachel did something physical was probably when the encounter with the Bandits happened. Sure, she seemed into the kiss right now, her hands pulling me in close and holding me tight, but what happened beyond that? Was I really going to just pretend that since it had been so long ago, she’d moved on, and I could do anything?
No, that was absurd.
