Louder Than Words (Fall For Me) Page 11

  But there was no way I was going to spend the rest of my senior year at an all-girl school.

  I was shaking big time about it, though. ‘Cause Mom seemed determined. Still, when we rounded the corner of the student parking lot, it wasn’t thoughts of the all-girl that made my stomach shrivel. It was Mason.

  He was there. In the parking lot.

  Oh my gosh. My heart fell.

  “Hello Mason,” Mom said brightly, trying to ignore the blond-haired bimbo in his arms, while also ignoring his motorcycle they’d been pressed up against. She stared directly into his shocked face, keeping her eyes off his surroundings, because they only made her worry.

  Mason’s eyes flickered to me then stayed. Without even seeming to notice the long-legged blond in his arms, he let her go, like dropped her. His eyes squinted as I stared at the girl—the exact same one he was with this morning. In this very spot.

  He never actually flaunted them—(his trail of girls)—in my face. In fact, he always seemed kind of ashamed of them and tried to hide them from me. But it wasn’t usually like this—after he had pulled me into a closet, trying to coax me to say I was “into” him. Usually it just seemed he didn’t want to hurt me.

  But now it was different. Now it seemed he wanted the girl to disappear. Or me to have amnesia. Or both.

  He winced.

  “Hey,” he said to my mom, sounding confused. And curious. His eyes kept darting from me to Mom then back to me again. “What’s going on?” He furrowed his brow at my mom. “What are you doing here?”

  Mom sighed. “Summer’s been having a lot of drama lately—more than usual. We’re going to have her go to an all-girl private school with her cousin, Dara, for a while.”

  Mason’s brow rose. “Dara …” he tilted his head, squinting his eyes like he couldn’t believe it, “… in Connecticut?!”

  He sounded alarmed at the thought. Dara lived five hours away.

  Mason wet his lips, eyeing me. “You’re going away?”

  I just glared at him, not saying anything. After all, he couldn’t be too terribly broken up or upset about the news. He seemed to call his blond bimbo the minute he left the closet with me—had her drive out to visit him in between classes.

  Apparently, he had it bad for her…. Yet he’d just been trying to coax me to say I was “into” him.

  I couldn’t believe he could be so cruel to me. He was totally, totally living up to his bad-boy reputation as a “player.” I just never believed he’d ever “play” me.

  Mason narrowed me a look. Seeming hurt. Apparently about my leaving. His voice was soft and bewildered, “You weren’t even going to tell me?”

  He had no right to be hurt. Absolutely none. He’d just pinned me in a closet, then rushed out and started mackin’ with his gorgeous blond cover-girl. I was the only one that could be hurt here. And I was. I was massacred. My heart was bleeding all over the ground.

  For a moment, I was even glad I was going away. I’d seen way too much of Mason lately. Mason and his strange mind-games—acting like he loved me, then immediately mackin’ with a sexy model/stripper/sugar-momma.

  Instead of answering him, my eyes cut to his blond girlfriend, the one sitting possessively on his motorcycle. I hoped my scathing gaze made the statement I wanted. Made it absolutely clear—I didn’t need to tell him anything. ’Cause it didn’t matter. He had his life. I had mine. And the two didn’t connect.

  Yeah, I was back to guarding my heart.

  CHAPTER 37

  I spent two whole grueling long months in Connecticut, dying at an all-girl school. But when I started dating this biker guy that worked at the gas station near my aunt’s house, my mom exploded and made me move back home. Ha! That was my plan all along. I didn’t even like the guy. I just knew my mom would have a heart attack when she heard about his tattoos and that he rode a motorcycle.

  Actually, I had been terrified of the guy—and I’d made it absolutely clear when I agreed to go on a date with him that I was just using him to scare my aunt and mom. He didn’t seem to mind. He was pretty amused by it, actually. And put on a good show for my aunt, kissing me (!!) in front of her and showing her all of his piercings and tattoos.

  So, I found myself living back at home less than two months after leaving. The sad, pathetic thing was though—I was still licking my wounds about Mason. The boy was under my skin.

  After being home for almost two weeks, I got a call from Mason’s dad’s sister (Mason’s aunt). She and her two little girls were living with Mason and his dad for a while because she was going through a divorce. Her name was Sherry and she was really, really nice (though a little crazy). I’d gotten to know her pretty well the year Mason’s dad was married to my mom, and I’d baby-sat her daughters a few times.

  That’s what she was calling about now. She needed me to baby-sit for the weekend.

  I sighed, but agreed to do it. Her daughters are sweet and I hadn’t seen them in over a year.

  So, that was my huge plan for the weekend … baby-sitting.

  ***

  “Ack!” I woke in a panic, springing up from the bed, waving my arms around like a maniac. Somehow I thought I was swatting at a bee—an enormous fuzzy one buzzing around my lips.

  But …

  That was so not the case.

  Fully awake now, I swung even harder. “Mason! Geez, I thought you were a bee!”

  Surprised by my attack, Mason looked up at me from where he’d taken refuge, sprawled on the floor, his eyes dancing with amusement.

  “Sorry,” he murmured, his lips quirking into this adorable teasing grin he has—obviously not sorry in the slightest. Still, he murmured it again with a chuckle, “Sorry.”

  I tried to get my pulse under control, but it was kind of hard ‘cause I was just as unnerved discovering it wasn’t a bee on my lips, but Mason.

  Mason had almost kissed me (!!!)… sort of. Of his own freewill. (No wagers or experimenting or fake-outs or anything.) Just him seeing an opportunity and going for it—kissing me. The thought had my heart pumping all wild and spazzy. Only well, I knew he was only doing it as a joke. Like for fun, not for love. Or romance. Or temptation. Or well, anything but a joke.

  Still, I shoved the hair out of my face, suddenly as awake as if he’d thrown a bucket of ice water on me rather than his amazingly soft, pink lips.

  I gasped, “What are you doing here?”

  His brow rose. “What am I doing here?” He raised his brow even further. “This is my house. And this is my bed, and that—” he gestured to what I was wearing “—is my shirt.”

  Gazing down, I blushed. It was true. I was wearing his shirt.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked, grinning ‘cause he’d apparently figured it out already.

  “I’m baby-sitting your cousins.” I tried to sound dignified in my answer, as if it was only natural to be sleeping in his bed, wearing his clothes—I was baby-sitting.

  He picked a piece of popcorn out of my hair. “Geez Summer, you’ve trashed my bed.”

  Looking down at the mess, I grimaced. “Sorry.”

  I started shoveling handfuls of popcorn out of his sheets and back in the bowl. “We were having this little slumber party type thing, only I fell asleep….” Bewildered, I glanced around the room. “Where are the kids?”

  Mason’s lips quirked up at the corners with amusement. “Great baby-sitter.”

  It had been a long time since Mason and I had been alone together. His grin made my stomach feel funny. Also, it was kind of weird having him so near while I was in his bed, wearing his shirt. I could feel my face growing hot.

  He didn’t seem to notice though, or more likely, chose to ignore it. Instead he explained, “The kids were zonked out next to you. I put them in their beds.”

  I nodded, kind of relieved. I’d hate to think someone made off with them while I slept—that would make me seem irresponsible … right?

  Mason picked up the rumpled issue of the teen magazine I’d
been sleeping on. He thumbed through it a moment and I watched him, kind of holding my breath, hoping he wouldn’t notice the quiz I’d taken about having crushes on childhood guy-friends.

  “You know, you’re a really sound sleeper, Summer,” he said, still looking through the magazine.

  I blinked. What did that mean? My heartbeat kicked up a notch. How long had he been here? Had he been watching me sleep? Did I snore? Drool? Ack!

  I shrugged, trying to play chill.

  “I woke up when you kissed me,” I reminded him.

  “Yeah,” he said, cocking his eyebrows and looking adorable. “But I did all kinds of stuff before that.”

  Right.

  He pulled some more popcorn out of my hair, and suddenly he was gazing at me differently—like he does the Barbie dolls he goes out with. Feeling awkward, I glanced away, the word “signals” nagging in my brain.

  Signals, signals, signals.

  The magazine had said I should send him signals to let him know how I felt. But I wasn’t sure I wanted him to know … even now. Still. Even after having two long grueling months of being away from him—of pining at the memories of all the sweet, wonderful things he had done for me throughout the years. ‘Cause letting him know would be like handing him a knife and saying, “Wound me. Cause me pain.” I wasn’t up for heartbreak. Not from Mason. That would kill me. (Like when I’d seen him out in the school parking lot that day with model-chick right after he’d caged me in the janitor’s closet trying to get me to profess my longing for him. I’d died seeing him with that girl. It had shattered my heart. Shriveled everything inside me. So, yeah, I was chicken to let him know my feelings.)

  It was weird when he got like this though, when out of nowhere he seemed to notice I was a girl (and not just a sister-ish type being that had once been semi-related to him). Okay, throughout the last two years it had happened a couple times. But it was always pretty shocking and I usually couldn’t figure out what brought it on. Like right now. Maybe it was because I was wearing his T-shirt—maybe he liked seeing me in it. Or maybe I looked kind of sexy just waking up—you never know, maybe he liked my hair all tousled and full of popcorn.

  Or maybe—oh my gosh!—maybe he read my diary! Suddenly I noticed it sitting open on his desk. It was angled precariously, just as I’d left it. Still, seeing it, I could hardly breathe. Did he read it while I slept? Was that why he was looking at me like that? I tried to calm down—not look at it. It was possible he hadn’t noticed the tattered thing. It was halfway covered under my shamble of schoolbooks.

  I swallowed.

  “So, what are you doing here?” I asked again, halfway deciding he’d tell me if he had read it. Mason’s not one of those guys who can keep things—like knowing my innermost thoughts—to himself. He’d basically have to tease me about it. To do otherwise would be going against nature. I tried to sound ultra-casual, “Your aunt said you went camping for the weekend.”

  Mason nodded. “I did, but it started pouring.”

  “So, um,” I fidgeted with his sheets, feeling my face turning red and this deep, deep, deep, abiding awkwardness, “I guess you want your bed, right?”

  “Well, actually, no. I mean, I didn’t know my dad was gone for the night.” He raised his eyebrows meaningfully. “He’s got a king size bed.”

  Unable to meet his pointed gaze, I started searching his sheets for figment popcorn strays—anything to avoid his eyes.

  What could I say? I chose to sleep in his dinky bed, rather than his dad’s fancy king-sized. What was weird though, was Mason didn’t even ask why. Probably he didn’t need to. Probably he already knew—I wanted the comfort of being where he slept, rather than the luxury of a king-sized bed. There hadn’t even been any question in my mind—I wanted to feel near Mason … even if he wasn’t around.

  There was an awkward, tense silence, then Mason ran his hands through his hair and let out a breath. “I’m beat.”

  It was like he was going to leave the room, but then he turned back to me. “Why are you baby-sitting on a Saturday night anyway?”

  Morose, I could do nothing more than shrug. The pathetic truth was, I’d turned down a date to come here. And not only that, I was baby-sitting his sweet little cousins the entire weekend. Sure, I needed the money. But it was also—I don’t know. Mason had done so much for me these past few years. I wanted to do something for him. (Though, well, that was weird, since really I’d just been helping out his aunt and little cousins. Mason hadn’t even known his aunt had called me. Still, that was the reason I did it—to help.) What really had me fidgeting though was he didn’t even tease me about choosing his bed over his dad’s. I mean, of all the humiliating things, he was being tactful. “I thought you were tired Mason. Go to bed.”

  Instead, he straddled the chair at his desk, looking at me, bemused. “Remember when we used to be close friends?” he asked. “We used to tell each other everything. Remember that?”

  “Yes,” I said with a sigh, knowing what he was getting at. “We are still friends Mason. I’m sorry, okay?”

  “Yeah. I just can’t believe you were back to school for three days without telling me.”

  “Well …” I really didn’t know how to explain it to him without sounding like a dork. But the thing was, he was wounded and somehow just knowing he cared enough to be hurt made me want to be slightly honest. I mean, absurdly, his pain touched me. “I specifically sought you out the first morning I got back to school—I did. But then, when I found you, you were with some blond on the bleachers—sort of intimate. I would have felt stupid interrupting.”

  “Yeah, but three days?!”

  “Well, every time I saw you, you looked busy. You were either with a girl, or with a bunch of guys. I just never had the chance—”

  “I don’t get it. We’ve been relatives—we did dishes together—and you can’t even bother to stop me in the hall and say `Hey Mason, look, I’m back’?”

  “Well … I just felt kind of shy about it.”

  “Shy?” He looked perplexed. “Why would you feel shy?”

  He’s a moron. I hate him. “I don’t know. I guess I was afraid you wouldn’t care. I mean, since last year we’ve barely spoken—well, until the Blake incident. But I was afraid that I’d be all excited, and tell you I’m back, and you wouldn’t care. That would have hurt, you know?”

  He gazed at me a moment. “Why do you always think like that? You’re the one that always acts so cool, like you couldn’t care less. I never act that way.”

  “Yeah, but when I do it you know it’s an act. And how should I know how you act these days anyway? I have no idea how you act anymore. It’s been a long time since we’ve actually had a conversation—I mean, besides ‘Hey, will you beat up my ex-boyfriend’ and ‘Whoa! Someone sent the whole school a dirty picture of me.’” I cringed remembering that stuff, then went on with my point or explanation or excuse or whatever I was giving about the reason I didn’t tell him I was back to Jefferson. “And every time I saw you this week you were with a different girl.”

  “What, you were spying on me?”

  “Kind of.”

  His expression changed at that. I couldn’t read it, which was strange because I knew Mason pretty well—like he said, we used to do dishes together.

  “You must have like, been hiding from me,” he said. “I mean, you don’t exactly blend into a crowd.”

  I shrugged. “Apparently I do.”

  “Man Summer, if I hadn’t seen you Wednesday in the cafeteria you would have just let us graduate without ever telling me you were back. I mean, they would have announced your name to come up and get your diploma, and I would have sat there like a chump, wondering how you were able to get it from our school when you’d spent the last year in a convent.”

  “It wasn’t a convent. It was an all-girl school.”

  Mason smirked. “Same thing.”

  He fumbled through his camping gear.

  My heart in my throat, I watched him unro
ll his sleeping and get it situated on the floor next to the bed.

  I cleared my throat, already knowing my voice was going to be shaky. “I thought you were going to sleep in your dad’s bed.”

  “Yeah, I was.” He shrugged, like no big deal. “But you want me here with you, right? I’ll pass up comfort for old time’s sake—and yeah, Summer … for you.”

  CHAPTER 38

  Mason crawled into his sleeping bag and immediately fell asleep. I, on the other hand, was up all night. I had this hovering, suffocating feeling of despair I couldn’t shake.

  The thing was, I wouldn’t have even seen Mason that night if his camping plans hadn’t got axed. I mean, he could say he missed our closeness all he wanted, but as the saying goes, actions speak louder than words, and well, let’s face it, the guy put out zero action. Basically, with Mason it was—out of sight, out of mind. When I wasn’t in his sight, I was completely out of his mind. At best, I was like a stray dog to him. Whenever my pathetic existence reached his attention he threw me a bone.

  It had been like that basically even when we were “siblings” and lived together. If I reached out to him and asked him for help—he was right there for me and would do whatever I asked. But otherwise, he sort of, kind of avoided me. Always. Well, not right at the beginning, when we first met. Back then, he would invite me to do things with him all the time—it was like he really liked having me around. But then … I don’t know what happened. Something changed and then it was never the same. I mean, Mason was always sweet and kind and caring to me. And extremely protective. But at the same time … yeah, he kind of avoided me.

  I have to admit of course, I had avoided him too—at all costs. But that was different. That was after he moved out. Then I was hurt. So wounded. I’d told myself—Fine, if he doesn’t want to be part of my life anymore then I won’t be part of his. In a way, it had been easier that way. Way easier than seeing him around school but not really, truly having him part of my life anymore. It just seemed easier on my heart to cut him out of it completely.