Page 72 of Bruised

Oliver called a technician a few days ago, but they’re booked up until tomorrow, so in the meantime, Oliver and I have taken to sleeping out on the patio in the sun loungers at night, while Mason seeks refuge in the garage.

In the daytime, Oliver and I take at least three dips in the pool to cool ourselves. Pool time means undressing time, and I can’t very well expose the collage of bruises and bite marks covering most of my torso.

Luckily, I’m sensitive to the sun, and a tan doesn’t pair well with my aesthetic anyway, so when I insist on keeping an oversized black T-shirt on, Oliver doesn’t question it.

Most of the time, everything is normal between us. When we play in the water, splashing each other and screaming with glee, I forget I’m a horrible friend, and I forget Oliver’s a few weeks away from leaving me.

“You getting hungry?” he asks randomly as we float around in the pool.

“Sure,” I say. “Why?”

“I saw this recipe the other day. Thought I’d make it for dinner.”

I nod in encouragement. Oliver’s been cooking more and more meals from scratch lately. He still loves junk food and candy, just like me, but I suppose he’s gotten bored with microwave-ready meals and chocolate cereal. Either that, or he feels an obligation to cook for us.

“You can stay in if you want,” Oliver says as he heaves himself up by the ladder. “I’ll call when it’s ready.”

I nod in relief. It’s so nice to get a reprieve from the heat for once, and the water lapping at the edges of the pool is calming, almost meditative.

I swim a few laps, trying to relax and stop thinking about the two sources of worry in my life. Well, the two strongest ones, anyway: Oliver leaving for college in a few weeks, and Mason.

Just… Mason.

Lately, he’s become a point of worry rather than a source of fun, mostly because of the warm feelings swirling inside me and the scarce evidence that he feels anything like that about me in return.

I’m just someone he can entertain himself with while his other options are limited thanks to his parole, and while I didn’t mind that at first and used him the same way he used me, I don’t know… Something has changed, and I can no longer look past the fact that my chest tightens whenever I think about him.

I’ve never felt like this before. Haven’t had feelings for someone who doesn’t have feelings for me. With my ex, Micah, it was the opposite: he did everything I asked, and he was a kind and generous lover, but what I wanted was for someone to give me orders and fuck me so hard I scream, and Mason gives me that.

I got what I wanted, but somehow it’s not enough, and I’m left feeling vulnerable and small, alone in the dark with no one to hold my hand. Maybe those feelings will go away if I try hard enough. If I keep giving myself to him—all of me, like he expects—will my heart get used to it and no longer protest?

My eyes are burning, and the choker around my neck feels constricting as I keep swimming lap after lap.

I’m fine—it’s just the chlorine. I’m not about to cry… I’m not…

“Hey, puppy.”

My lips part in shock, and I swallow a mouthful of water that sends me into a coughing fit. I turn around to see Mason chuckling by the poolside.

“Easy there, puppy. Don’t want you to drown yourself. Need some help?” He lifts his shirt over his head, but before he reveals his sculpted body, I look away and keep swimming.

“No.”

“No?” The splashing at the deep end tells me he’s not listening. He’s going to get in.

Oliver’s in the kitchen, and while the line of sight from the kitchen to the pool isn’t exactly clear, if he steps into the living room and looks through the windows, he’ll see us.

I swim toward the shallow end, but when I turn my head, Mason is coming after me like a shark in the water.

“Here,” he says. “Let me help you.”

I gasp as he swims into me, way too close. “I don’t need your help.”

He grabs my hips, steadying me and holding me afloat. “No?”

My treacherous body responds to his touch, and I try to squirm away, but he holds me fast.

“Oliver’s in the kitchen,” I hiss, wanting to sink through the pool and into the ground. I could get out, I guess, but I want to stay in the water; I want to stay cool. But staying cool is pretty much impossible whenever Mason’s in the picture.