"Not bad for a first try," Mason says. I want to tell him that this isn’t the first, or second, it’s maybe the tenth. Or more.
"Shut up," I say, but I'm smiling, and I wish Ethan could see the fucking stupid birdhouse.
But he's not here. He's off learning to save lives in his nursing program, probably not thinking about me at all, and that thought hits like a fist to the sternum. I swallow it down, pack up my tools, and focus on Mason, who's wrapping his box carefully in a cloth like it's something precious. At least someone wants to be around me today.
We go to the hallway. It’s messy and loud, and Mason is still talking about woodwork. I'm half-listening, half-enjoying the way his enthusiasm makes him beam.
"And if you get the angle right, you don't even need glue. The tension alone holds it. It's like, physics… but cool," he says, and his face is lit up.
"So wood Tinder," I say. "Two pieces that just... fit."
Mason snorts. "That's disgusting. I love it."
We round the corner toward the main corridor, and I'm about to make another terrible joke when Mason goes quiet. Not just quiet. Actually, scared. His shoulders curl inward, and he takes a half-step closer to the wall.
I look, and there's a super big guy standing there. Reed.
Tall, taller than me by a good three inches, maybe four, giant, all muscles, and I’m pretty fucking sure you can’t get those by working out alone. His sleeves are rolled up to the elbow, revealing two full sleeves of tattoos from wrist to bicep. A jagged scar traces his jawline like someone tried to open him with a can opener and gave up halfway through. He has short black hair and brown eyes. He’s from my MMA class. Yesterday we trained together, while Ethan ignored me. I wasn’t paying attention to him. All I could think about was Ethan, that fucker. I’d never actuallylookedat him like that. He’s really hot. Ethan is more. Fuck me.
"Mason," Reed says, barely glancing at him, but he cracks an assassin grin. His voice is low and easy, like he's got all the time in the world. "How was class?"
"Good," Mason says, his voice trembling a little.
"Cool." Reed is already looking at me. He gives me a once-over and that same predatory smile he just gave Mason. Dimples. The bastard has dimples, deep ones, that make him even more attractive.
"Liam, right? From MMA?" he says, like he doesn't already know. Like we didn't spend twenty minutes trading punches yesterday. "You've got a decent hook for someone with shit footwork."
"Thanks," I say. "That's going on my tombstone. 'Decent hook, shit footwork.'"
His smile widens. He pushes off the wall and takes a stepcloser. My body tenses, but not entirely in a bad way.
"I'm Reed," he says, extending a hand. His knuckles are calloused and split in places, the skin perpetually damaged. I take his hand, and he basicallycrushesmine. Probably to assert dominance or something. He holds on to it a beat too long before letting go.
“You don’t need to squeeze me like that, I know you’re strong. It’s pretty fucking obvious,” I say. Fuck it. I’m feeling even more impulsive now that Ethan’s gone. He laughs, warm and surprised.
"I like you," he says, pointing at me with a finger like a loaded gun. "You've got a mouth on you."
"So I've been told. Usually right before someone punches me."
"I won't punch you," he says, leaning forward slightly, dropping his voice. "Not unless you ask nice."
I feel heat crawl up my neck. It's not the same as what I feel around Ethan, that aching, desperate pull, that constant sense of reaching for something just out of range. This is different. Simpler.
“Maybe not punch. Slap instead?”
“Anything you want, sweetheart,” he says, clearly flirting.
Maybehewouldn’t take months to kiss me.
As the only person I truly want to kiss won’t do it.
Mason is still standing there, pressed against the wall like he's trying to disappear into it. Reed seems to remember he exists and claps a hand on his shoulder, heavy, proprietary. "You did good in class?" he asks, but it's barely a question. The same one as before. He probably isn’t even paying attention to what he’s saying.
"Yeah," Mason says. "Liam helped me. Reed’s my leader, Liam."
"Did he?" Reed's gaze swings back to me. "Well, since youtwo are already buddies, Liam, you should come hang with us during rec time. I see yourleaderand you aren’t getting along. Mason's going to show me some card game he learned, and I need a third."
Does he know about Ethan?
