I watched him expertly wield a spatula and whip up a delicious breakfast. He even buttered my toast before he put it on a plate with the eggs and bacon.
I could get used to this. The thought scared me back to reality and I asked, “Can you drive me back to Willa’s apartment after breakfast?”
“Not happening,” he said and went back to putting eggs on his own plate.
“What do you mean not happening? I don’t want to stay here. You don’t want me to stay here. The logical thing to do would be to drop me back home.”
“No.”
“No? That’s it?”
He didn’t answer, instead he handed me my plate and went to the couch and sat down.
“Give me one good reason why I should stay here.”
He looked up from drowning his bacon in maple syrup. “Is this about you showing me the goods earlier?”
I gasped. “You walked in on me. I didn’t willingly show you anything.”
He grinned and talked with a mouth full of food. “Then you should have locked the door. Or taken a shower like a normal person, instead of screaming like the tap was going to jump off the wall and kill you.”
“That’s not what happened.”
“That’s exactly what happened. Now shut up and eat your food. You look like you could use a few more pounds.”
“Did you just comment on my weight?”
He didn’t look up this time, just continued eating.
I took a deep breath and tried to find my happy place.I was not going to let him get me riled up. I was not going to stoop down to his level. I was not going to insult—
Oh, to hell with it. I am totally going to insult him. “I don’t have enough middle fingers to let you know how I feel about you,” I said, having decided that taking the high road was for other, more well-adjusted people.
He continued eating, but I thought I saw his mouth quirk at my outburst.
I stayed at the kitchen island, refusing to eat with him. He didn’t even look up as the bar stool scraped against the floor when I pulled it back. “I’ll have you know that I’m a perfectly normal weight.”
He turned on the TV. “You’ve lost at least twenty pounds since I first met you.”
What a rude asshole to point that out. I had indeed lost a few pounds. Even though I still had some of my curves, something I had inherited from the Columbian side of my family, I did look a bit worse for wear if I was honest. But I couldn’t eat when I was stressed. And moving out of my family’s house, despite my mother’s objections, was taking its toll. And, hello, uncertain futures weren’t exactly making me feel all warm and fuzzy.
I just couldn’t believe that Mason had noticed. Or talked to me the way he just did. The anger lodged inside my chest and squeezed, making it hard to breathe.
I pushed my plate away and got up. “If you don’t drive me back I’ll just walk.”
I made it as far as the hallway before two big arms engulfed me from behind. He carried me back to the living room where he sat me on the couch.
“Are you done with your hissy fit?” he asked.
I tried to get up, but he just pushed me back down.
“Don’t touch me,” I groaned out between clenched teeth.
He sat down next to me. “Calm down. I just want to talk to you.”
“You don’t have to touch me to talk to me.”
He put up his hands. “Fine. No touching.”
