Sighing, I walk in front of him and start to climb, taking in everything around me. A lot has changed since Leasa left.
‘My asshole of an ex really wanted to make sure the knife he dug into my back wasn’t getting out easily.’
I feel the heat of his gaze on my skin as we trail down the upstairs hallway. I pause, seeing a photo of Zayden, Mason and myself. We’re at the beach, and I’m holding my arms out, showing where a line of starfish is sitting on my forearm. Zayden is beaming at the camera, pointing to the starfish. Stepping closer, I squint, looking closely at how Mason’s eyes are on me. I never noticed that before. His lips are tilted up in a crooked smile, his cheeks flushed from running down the beach. I remember that day so clearly. It was one of the last fun days we had before things got complicated. I stand so close to the frame that the tip of my nose grazes the glass.
Why did I never notice he was looking at me like that?
‘Heard about Dylan,’ Mason says, brushing past me and opening a door, revealing a neatly kept spare room. I startle, having been so focused on the photo, I forgot for a moment where I am. Shaking my head, I follow him inside the room. It looks different – bigger than I remembered, with a soft-looking brown comforter that is calling my name. ‘And Phoebe,’ he adds after a moment.
A sickening feeling washes over me at the mention of their names. The two people in my life who I love so much. Or at least, I did.
I have been extremely unlucky in the love department.
‘You keeping tabs on me, Mase?’ I exhale, bringing my hair over my shoulder, feeling how damp it is from the rain.
He lowers my bag onto the bed, and it groans briefly under the weight of it. The bag is practically bursting at the seams, and there are three more just like it in the boot of my car, but they can stay there for now.
‘Of course, Blush.’
Heat burns my cheeks and races down my neck at the familiar nickname. Blush. Every time Mason looked in my direction when we were growing up, my cheeks would shine a bright, noticeable red, as vibrant as a neon sign above my head telling the world I was crushing on him. Since he loved to enjoy my misery and discomfort, he quickly nicknamed me ‘Blush’ to further torment me.
I haven’t seen him since everything went down over two years ago. Or heard that nickname. As much as it was meant to be teasing, over the years it became something a little ... flirty. Which is where the true trouble began.
And now we’re staring at each other, the air between us crackling. My cheeks warm impossibly more, and I step back from him, even though there is already two metres of space between our bodies. No distance is enough when it comes to him. His presence feels like a physical touch, and his hold on me is stronger than my will.
‘So. You’re back,’ I say, just to say something, and I desperately hope he can’t hear how loudly my heart is hammering in my chest.
His lips tilt in the sexy way they always have. ‘Obviously.’
‘How was Mexico?’ I turn towards him, following him out to the hall, certainly not looking at how tightly his shirt clings to his back muscles.
He throws a smirk over his shoulder. ‘Looks like you’ve been keeping tabs on me, too.’
If only he knew I had to block all his stories from my social media so I couldn’t see anything. I couldn’t bear seeing his face and crying over it, like I had so many times. I never went as far as blocking him completely. That would have raised questions from my friends and family that I had no intention of answering.
‘More like the only person Zayden likes to talk about more than himself is you,’ I point out.
‘Uh-huh.’
My eyes roam over those delicious arm muscles, down to the ass that’s been burned into my memory for years. Yup. Still as good as ever.
‘Unusual for you to be in on a Friday night, isn’t it?’ I ask, padding into the kitchen and dropping onto one of the bar stools.
‘Stalker, much?’
‘Get over yourself.’
Mason effortlessly moves around the kitchen. He flicks the kettle on, withdraws two mugs from one of the cabinets and leans back onto the kitchen bench.
‘You’re not ...’ I start, a slow smile spreading across my face. Since Mason was at our house every weekend throughout high school, he would go out of his way to cook or do something helpful around the house. I assume it was a thank-you to my family for always taking him in. He knew his way around a kitchen, and often added unique extra touches on simple meals, making them somehow taste ten times better. And his hot chocolate was to die for.
‘Making you the Mason Special? Why, of course I am.’
‘Since when are you nice to me?’ I narrow my eyes suspiciously.
His eyes look a little brighter under the kitchen lights, which cast a golden glow over his skin and a shadow across the slight stubble that’s growing across his jaw.
‘Since you’ve had a fucking terrible time lately,’ he replies, way more honestly than I expected. His gaze lingers on mine for a heartbeat too long. ‘But just tonight. Game over from tomorrow.’
