Louder Than Words (Fall For Me) Page 9

  (You know all the times when I call Mason “trouble”? What I really mean is trouble to my heart.)

  I slump in my seat knowing this is going to be a very long weekend. First of all—it’s camping. Second of all, I’m fighting all these raging, confusing feelings for Mason. Third of all, I can hear Danny chattering away to Mason and it’s ripping up my heart.

  Mason and Danny are great buds. Mom has Mason come over for “family dinner” every Sunday evening. She has ever since Mason moved out. I refuse to go to the dinners though. On account Mason broke my heart when he moved out. (I had thrown all of my pride out the window when I begged him to move back home—but no matter how much I begged and coaxed, he wouldn’t budge. After that—he was dead to me. Well, I tried to act that way. It was easier thinking of him as dead, than that he rejected me…. Because I wasn’t used to being rejected … by anyone but my parents. And having it be Mason—no!!! It hurt too much.)

  Now I’m trying to keep my heart completely guarded from him. And the best way to do that is to completely avoid him. But that’s hard to do when your new little brother is fawning on him … and you’re going to be stuck at a camping site with him. For a whole weekend.

  Groan!

  CHAPTER 29

  Almost as soon as we got off the bus a very horrifying thing happened. I’m just going to skim it … because it was horrible.

  We were following our camp director and he was leading us to where our campsite would be. But he lead us to this rickety bridge. I mean, it was scary looking. Old and unsafe. It was way up high over a river canyon below.

  None of the kids wanted to cross the bridge. And I didn’t blame them.

  The camp director had said, “There’s nothing to be afraid of. Watch. I’ll go first.”

  Danny watched for a tiny while. But the bridge was long. And Danny’s attention span was short.

  I followed him as he chased after a butterfly. Then we heard a loud pop. Then another. Mason grabbed Danny. He blocked Danny’s view as the whole bridge gave out and the guy plummeted down the canyon. Dead.

  I sat on a big rock and poor Danny planted his head on my lap and sobbed. I mean, a guy died. Right in front of him. Okay, Danny hadn’t seen any of it, thank goodness. Mason had led him away to “hunt a bear.” But still. Whoa.

  ***

  “Summer?”

  I heard my name and jerked my head up. I’m still sitting on the rock. Danny is asleep now with his head in my lap.

  I don’t even really know what the debate is. Or the choices. All I know is this is a nightmare. And I want to get Danny home. But we’re stranded. The bus is long gone and the bridge is out. And our leader is dead. And we have no cell phone reception or a clue where we are—‘cause, you know, that’s what the leader was for. To guide us on this “fun” adventure.

  And now there is some sort of vote taking place. A debate. But I haven’t been paying attention.

  I do know that two guys—our class president, and some other dude that I have never seen before—want us to camp at two different spots. One guy thinks we should stay here, near the bridge. The other guy thinks we should camp near the place we had gotten dropped off.

  Now, apparently, it’s my turn to vote. Yippy.

  Everyone’s looking at me. Waiting for my answer.

  I draw out a ragged breath. “I choose whatever Mason does.”

  Mason gives me a look. One I can’t read. But after that, a lot of people (girls) answer the same as me. Mason is big and has a knife. Also, I would trust him with my life. Can’t say the same about Mr. President, or Mr. Stranger.

  “Okay,” our class president finally says with a defeated sigh, “What are you planning to do, Mason?”

  “I’m going to camp it out here. No one told us where to meet tomorrow. But people are going to be wanting the bridge. I mean, the camp is somewhere over there, right? Someone in charge is going to need the bridge eventually—from over here, or there.” Mason shrugged. “One way or the other people will end up here.”

  ***

  Okay, you can maybe say I’m full of myself (I don’t care), but I didn’t like the look Mr. President—Philip—was giving me. Or Stranger-Dude. I wanted my tent as close to Mason’s as possible. But so did every other girl it seemed and by the time I got around to putting up mine and Danny’s tent, we were on the outskirts, though I made sure our tent was between two girls’—and not near some creepy guy’s. (Look, I was almost shoved in a van once—so most guys are creepy to me … whether I know them or not.)

  I didn’t exactly have a clue how to put together a tent, but Mason was in high demand—what with hunting us up some dinner—which he was hopefully doing—so I was left to reading the instructions that came with mine and Danny’s pathetic little tent.

  All I’m saying is: Things were not good.

  CHAPTER 30

  Once I finally had the tent up, I let Danny eat the only food we’d brought—some small snack bags of chips and a candy bar. The camp was supposed to provide all the food—they’d stressed that in their information packet: ‘Please don’t bring food. It will be provided.’ Good thing we had cheated. (Of course we both now wished we’d cheated more. Way more.)

  After Danny ate, he crawled into the tent and went to sleep. He’d had a long day. Me too. I sat outside our tent starving to death. To keep my mind off food, I sketched in my sketchbook. Thankfully I brought it. Otherwise, I don’t know what I would have done.

  Everyone else was gathered around the campfire, praising Mason and his successful hunt. He’d caught two rabbits and was cooking them now. The dinner smelled good. Mouthwatering even. But it made me shudder. No way was I going to eat a rabbit.

  Mason came over to me once everyone started eating. He had a prepared plate in his hands—apparently for me.

  “Want dinner?” he asked.

  Cringing, I shook my head … though—gah!!!—my stomach growled at that precise moment. Embarrassingly loud. Giving away the fact I was massively, totally, full-on lying—in case it wasn’t glaringly obvious by the simple fact we hadn’t eaten since early this morning.

  Mason bit back an amused grin. Well, tried to bite it back. He cleared his throat—(pretty sure to keep from laughing)—then squatted down beside me.

  Another grin crept on his lips as I grimaced and turned away from the plate of food in his hands.

  His eyes twinkled. “Oh, that’s right,” he said. “You used to have a pet rabbit—huh?”

  I did. I’d loved my little bunny, Velvet, with all of my heart … and Mason knew it.

  His voice was gentle and teasing as he whispered near my ear, “Good thing I caught you a fish, huh?”

  My heart slammed against my chest.

  Gasping, my eyes popped open wide. I could have hugged him. In fact, I totally, totally would have—if I didn’t love him so much.

  But as it was I just stammered out, “Thank you so much, Mason!”

  His voice and eyes went tender. “You’re welcome.”

  He sat with me while I ate, just keeping me company and being sweet. But then his eyes latched on to my sketchbook. He inclined his head with a squint. “Can I see what you’ve been drawing?”

  Heat rushed to my cheeks. And ears. But hesitantly, I nodded.

  Reverently, he looked through the book, raising his eyebrows. Most likely because a lot of the drawings were of him—well, the ones from today, but even some from before that. They all had him being this larger-than life character—holding Danny on his shoulders, or aiming his bow and arrow like a super-hero. In all of them he was a god.

  Silently, Mason handed the sketchbook back to me with a puzzled look in his eyes. He cleared his throat. “That’s … flattering,” he murmured.

  That was all he said. For a long time. Then he said softly, “Summer, I’m just a guy.”

  I looked up at him, not exactly sure what he was getting at—though I kind of knew. I mean, I’d drawn him over and over as some sort of super natural being—bigger, supe
rior, and better than anything that could possibly be real.

  “It’s like you have me built up in your head as different—but I’m just a guy.”

  I murmured, “Not to me.”

  He had saved me so many times in my life that it was embarrassing. He was anything but “just a guy.”

  Mason gazed towards the fire a long time, then finally his eyes rested back on me. “You see me as different than I am—you always have. Maybe it’s because I was actually your brother for a little while. A brother—but not just that. Whatever it is—I get it. I feel it towards you too. I always did.”

  CHAPTER 31

  After Mason’s heartfelt words, I sat in a warm silence, drinking in his beautiful words. They warmed my heart. My whole soul. I sat there alone a long time, just basking in a wondrous reverie. But Mason didn’t. He didn’t have time. He was in high demand. From everyone. Everyone needed his help. With everything.

  Finally, things seemed to settle down. Like the long day was finally coming to an end. A large group had gathered around the campfire, visiting and joking and making the best of things. Most of the younger kids were in bed by now. And the few adults that came seemed to have all gone to bed as well. Now there was just the teen volunteers that had come on the trip to serve kids in need (the ones that didn’t have adults in their lives to take them on the activity). That’s mostly what the group consisted of—teens that wanted to help make a difference in a child’s life.

  They called me over to the group, but I shook my head, feeling I should stay in front of the tent and guard poor Danny while he slept. Guard him from what, I had no clue. But I felt protective of him.

  However, watching Mason in the firelight at my safe-distance started to feel a little … creepy. Like I was a stalker watching my (gorgeous) prey. Not good. Or healthy. (For my brain, or my heart.) I mean, we held too much baggage from our past to ever get involved romantically. Right? Besides, there was the glaring fact that all Mason did was break girls’ hearts—I mean, the ones he didn’t consider a sister. And let’s face it, I couldn’t take my heart breaking from Mason again. I just couldn’t. I mean, it took almost a whole, entire year to even talk to him after he moved out. And even then it was only because I needed him to smash a guy’s face in.

  Yeah, I held a grudge. Big time. But even more than that, I guarded my heart—now more than ever.

  So, sigh, though my heart ached for Mason, I knew I needed to keep my thoughts sisterly towards him. But man, it was hard!

  With a resigned sigh, I bagged my stalking, and finally wandered over to the group.

  They were playing a bizarre, made-up form of poker and dealt me in on the next hand.

  “What are we betting?” I asked skeptically.

  “Not money,” a girl from school answered. I think her name was Heather. Don’t judge me, but I often don’t care what people’s names are. I’m going to call her Heather—but not out loud in case I’m wrong.

  Anyway, Heather answered that we weren’t betting money.

  Then Mason added with a grin, “Or clothes.”

  Like he’d voted for strip-poker (that was a big duh), but he’d been shot down (which was another big duh).

  “Favors,” President Philip answered. “That’s what we’re wagering—favors.”

  My eyebrows rose.

  “More like chores,” Heather explained quickly. “Like who’s going to gather fire wood in the morning—turns out it’s Philip, the big loser.”

  “Poker loser,” Philip said with a smile, dramatically emphasizing the word poker, as if to infer that he himself is not a loser. (Which is wrong.)

  “Hm. Okay,” I finally said, like I was game. Because I was. It was too dark to sit at my tent alone—alone where all I did was stare at Mason in the firelight like he was a Greek God or something. So, not sisterly.

  We played a couple of uneventful rounds. Then there was just me, Heather, Philip and Mason left in the game.

  It was my turn to make a wager. Heather was to my left—so my terms were to her. “I want your tent spot next to Mason.”

  Mason cocked his head at that. I saw his eyebrows rise, but he made no comment. Just sat looking at me with question marks in his eyes.

  “Too rich for my blood,” Heather said, not wanting to give up her coveted spot. Instead, she folded saying, “I’m out.”

  Philip’s wager to me was said with a grin and wink, “I want a kiss.”

  I sighed warily, but I wasn’t too worried. After all, I had a winning hand.

  “Okay, I’m disgusted—but still in,” I muttered, only half-teasing. Well, making it sound like I was teasing. But really Philip was quite full of himself. So though he was handsome, I pretty much couldn’t stand the guy.

  Then I added my terms. “If I win, you have to fix my tent to stand properly.”

  I turned my gaze on Mason, eying him challengingly. “Mason, you still in?”

  The corners of his lips twitched up a bit as he jutted his chin. “What are the stakes?”

  “Hmmm.” I hadn’t really thought about my terms with him—I’d simply wanted Philip to fix my tent, since it seemed it might fall over any minute.

  I bit the inside of my cheek, thinking. Then admitted, “I don’t feel like I can ask anything of you.”

  His eyes stayed on me. I shifted my jaw from side to side, thinking, thinking, thinking. Then I grinned. “Tomorrow at breakfast you have to sing.”

  Mason ducked his head with a groan-slash-laugh. “I’d rather fix your tent.”

  “Done!” I announced without missing a beat. I needed my tent fixed. Of course I wanted Philip to be the one to have to do it, but well … I needed my tent fixed.

  Mason’s eyes twinkled. His lips quirked a tiny grin. “Okay … but if I win I want the kiss.”

  Heat ripped through me.

  But I quickly went for chill.

  “Of course you do,” I said teasingly, as though my heart wasn’t slamming against my chest. But it was. Hard. The thought of Mason kissing me again—and that he’d brought up the idea himself—it had me shaking and sweating and basically on fire.

  I sucked in my breath, still trying to act nonchalant. Like I wasn’t shaken to the core. After all, I had a winning hand, so none of this mattered. (Except he requested my kiss!!)

  Mason’s lips flashed an incredulous grin. “You blushing Summer?”

  “Of course not—just excited to get my tent fixed,” I said playfully. Then I smugly showed him my hand.

  Philip scowled at my cards, then threw his in the air, muttering. For the most part kidding—I hope. But my gaze stayed fixed on the only person I cared about.

  Mason grinned slightly, watching my eyes closely as he flipped his cards over, seeming to be curious what my reaction would be.

  Whoa.

  I stared at his hand and blinked.

  He beat me.

  My heart ricocheted off my ribcage.

  Mason inclined his head with a grin. “Now you blushing?”

  “Let’s see the kiss,” everyone started chanting.

  Mason’s eyes seemed to laugh. Then he did a bit for real. “Oh, no way. I’m not kissing her with an audience.”

  His eyes met mine. “You ready for bed?”

  Everyone made “ohhh” noises. Like he was suggesting something scandalous and … Mason like. Well, like Mason was to other girls. Never to me.

  My stomach dropped. “Wh—what?!”

  He ducked his head with a laugh, since everyone—including me—seemed to take his words wrong. “I meant, I’ll kiss you at your tent. When you’re ready to go.”

  I reddened. “Oh.”

  That calmed my heart … a little. But it was still pounding up a storm. I mean, it had been almost a year since our last kiss. Yet the memory of it still had me on fire. And really, just thinking about him doing it again had my heart ready to explode.

  Still, I tried to sound chill and ultra casual. Though I knew Mason wouldn’t buy it—my rock-calm act. He k
new way better than to believe anything like that. Of course. I mean, he’d been around for our last kiss. He knew what it did to me. That it had completely blown me away.

  I whispered hoarsely, “I guess I’m ready now.”

  More scandalous noises erupted from the pack. But Mason just quirked his eyebrows at them like they were seriously damaged—and they should probably think about getting lives.

  This all seemed so surreal. (Didn’t I just convince myself I should just be sisterly to the guy? Wasn’t that just like, less than an hour ago?)

  Still, little shivers of anticipation danced around in the pit of my stomach. (I think I’ve mentioned I’m a goner for a good kiss—and hey, I had the ultimate pleasure of knowing what was in store … a kiss that would rock my world.) So, though I was extremely hesitant, I was also quivering with eagerness. (Pathetically sad, yes … but still, sigh—totally true.)

  Mason’s brow rose when I just stood there dreamily staring at him, my heart pounding and my eyes drinking him in. He smiled faintly. Like he knew exactly what was going on in my brain. Embarrassing!

  A spark flickered in his eyes as his brow rose again.

  Oh, right. I had to actually move. Get my feet to, you know, leave this one little spot where they seemed to be glued—so I could lead him to “The Kiss.” (!!!)

  Mason walked silently with me to my tent. Then he said, “Here, let me pin you against the tree.”

  Heat sizzled through my body. I gasped. “Pin me?!!”

  He grinned at my dropped jaw. “Yeah, so I can have something to lean against.” He drew closer. “Look, this is probably my only chance to get to do this again. I want to do it right.”

  I swallowed. “Okay.”

  He smirked gently. “What no smart remark?”

  “I can’t think of one.” I drew in my breath. “Actually, I can’t think of much of anything at the moment.”