Mason groans and covers his face. “See”—Mason peeks at me from between his fingers, words mumbled—“when you say shit like that, I really want to kiss you.”
My grin is borderline painful, which just makes Mason groan in frustration again. I stand back up and look down at him, trying to make myself have a considering sort of look, instead of all-out appreciative.
“Tonight is Dante’s birthday party. You’ll come with me.”
“Right,” Mason agrees, throat clicking on a loud swallow. “What are you wearing?”
“My usual.”
“Slacks and a dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to your elbows to make everyone drool over your epic forearms?”
I snort. “Epic forearms?”
Mason sighs dreamily. “You’ve no idea.”
Huh. I look down at my forearms but don’t notice anything epic about them. Shrugging, I hook my thumb over my shoulder to point toward the kitchen.
“I’m going to go make myself a small snack. Want anything?”
Mason waves his hand dismissively but follows me into the kitchen regardless. I end up making him a cup of tea, and he smiles gratefully at me over the rim. After a small snack of a green apple with some nut butter, I send Mason upstairs to get ready for the evening. When he asks what to wear, I just shrug and let him decide what he thinks will make me happy. But truly, he could wear a burlap sack, and I’d find him the most beautiful being in any room.
I stand downstairs in the foyer as the sun is setting, casting the living room in early evening darkness. Mason descends the stairs wearing a pair of navy dress slacks and a button-down white dress shirt that hugs his slim form. He sends me a shy smile that does more for me than the outfit ever could.
“How old is Dante anyway?” Mason asks as he follows me into the garage.
I open the door and wait for him to get all buckled in. “Twenty-two.”
“He’s the eldest?”
I hum agreement, then close the door. The car is a little cold, so I turn the heat up as I back out of the driveway. Mason cutely snuggles back into the leather seat while tucking his hands under his thighs.
“I assume you don’t want anyone knowing… about… whatever this is?” I ask quietly.
Mason shoots me a severe look. “Absolutely not. It would be embarrassing for them to all find out and then in a week or two for you to realize… Well. Let’s just keep it to ourselves for a little while.”
I fight against the urge to argue with him. I know what I’m signing up for with Mason. His anxiety and quirks don’t bother me at all. In fact, in a way I can’t explain, they intrigue me, making it feel like everything he shows me is earned out of explicit trust.
All the lights for the house are lit up when I park in the driveway. Balloons hang from the brick ballasts out front. Reid really went all out. The house is warm and inviting when we step inside. Laughter rings out from the backyard, so I nod that direction in order for Mason to follow. When I slide the glass door open, everyone turns toward us. Masonwaves shyly from behind me. Dante’s lips quirk into a knowing, wry twist of lips even as Reid sits in his lap.
Twinkling lights hang from the porch railing and from the two sparse winter-dead trees in the backyard. A table of appetizers sits to the right, and there’s a steel bucket full of icy beer. I dip down to grab one, then join the rest of them in one of the Adirondack chairs that get way more play in the summer. Reid’s even gotten a gas fire pit going in the middle of the circle between us.
Mason stands awkwardly behind me for a few seconds before mumbling something that sounds a lot likeoh hell whatever, then sits on the railing of the chair since all the other chairs are occupied. I shift a little to the left to give him more room so that I don’t actually touch him. Mason must notice because he looks down at me with this soft and fond sort of look that makes me wish so desperately I could touch him on purpose in front of everyone. So that they all know he’s mine.
“Happy birthday, big guy,” I say while tipping my beer at Dante.
Dante grins, but it’s a genuine smile, not that scary fake one that unsettles us all. “It’s actually tomorrow.”
Everyone stills. Reid turns slowly to look down at Dante. “You said it was the last day of February. That’s today… the twenty-eighth.”
Dante clears his throat awkwardly. “Not always.”
Huh? Silence fills the void for a few moments before Hayden cackles. “His real birthday isleap day, you idiots.”
Reid’s eyes go big, then a terrifying smirk works its way across his face.
“Oh no,” Mason mumbles in fear.
“So you’re technically only five years old.”
