Page 5

5

MASON

FLICKING ON MY LIGHT as the sky darkens, I run my hand through my hair, making it a little messy, but not too unkempt. I’m dressed in all black, with the sleeves of my shirt rolled up to my elbows. Finishing the drink I poured earlier, I make my way down to the kitchen for another. The price of a drink at a club is through the roof now, and the more we can pre-drink at home, the better.

I’ve lined up two rows of shots when Zayden trots into the kitchen. Dressed in a light-blue shirt – which I actually think is mine, as Zayden has taken all my coloured shirts, claiming I never wear anything but black – and with his hair combed back, he looks neat for once. His hair is a dirty blond, almost brown now, and so long he has to sweep it off his forehead all the time.

‘Is that hair gel?’ I raise an eyebrow.

‘Mmhmm.’ He nods, striking a pose. ‘You like?’

‘Sure.’ I shrug, grinning at my best friend. ‘Looks good.’

‘You too, brother.’ Glancing down at his watch, he sighs, calling up the stairs to Anya, telling her to hurry up.

I tap my fingers against the kitchen bench. I shouldn’t be nervous. This is what Zayden and I always do – drink, party, go out. It just feels different with Anya here. After everything that happened when I was overseas, I want nothing more than to focus on school and get my head straight. The last thing I need is a distraction, and she is one gigantic distraction.

A few minutes later, I hear the distinct click of her heels descending the stairs before she saunters into the kitchen. My heart drops to my feet as I pause, my drink stopping midway from the bench to my mouth as I gape at her.

She looks stunning. And way too fuckable. Internally groaning, I track my gaze down her slender neck, curvy figure, and legs that run a kilometre long. She’s dressed in a high-neck, figure-hugging white dress that leaves little to the imagination. She has always been pretty. And off-limits. But we’re older now and it feels ... different.

‘You scrub up alright,’ Zayden says casually over his shoulder. ‘Let’s do shots!’

She smiles warmly at her brother in that easy, affectionate way siblings who are on good terms share. When those doe eyes turn to meet mine, I realise every thought in my head is splattered across my face like a canvas. A smile tugs at her lips when she realises the effect she has on me. There is no point in denying it, the chemistry we have is off the charts. It always has been. Everything inside me tightens and I reluctantly drag my eyes from her.

Zayden shoves the shot into my hand and the other into his sister’s.

‘Cheers!’ he shouts, and I throw it back. It burns every inch of my throat. Anya grimaces, and Zayden laughs at her expression, handing her another one.

Warmth spreads through my body and I feel my muscles start to relax. Me, drunk, and in close quarters with Anya, is a recipe for disaster. Flashbacks of her eighteenth slam into my mind and I feel dizzy for a moment, but I shove down all thoughts of that night and snap back to reality when Zayden launches a paper coaster at my head. I scowl, shoving the drink beside me onto it. I’m the one who is always on his case about using them, but I was so distracted, I had forgotten.

‘Another?’ Zayden grins.

Bad idea.

In fact, it’s a terrible idea.

‘Pour it.’

After bar hopping for two hours, we end up at The Beach Club – by far the most popular club in the area. We used to drive an hour from our hometown just to come to this place. We would make a weekend of it: stay in a fancy hotel, spend the day surfing and drink way into the night.

The last few years have been a complete blur. A nostalgic feeling settles in my chest as I wade through the sweaty bodies. The music thumps so vigorously I can feel it under my skin. I did so much of this over the years, trying to rid her from my system. It worked, for a little while, but the booze and the blackout nights got old quickly.

Zayden yells something incoherent over his shoulder and dives towards a now-empty booth at the back of the club. I look behind me to see a tall man step in front of Anya, a leering smile etched onto his face.

Gritting my molars, I weave around him and slide my fingers through hers, pulling her after me. She lets out a squeak as I pull harder than I meant to, making her launch into me. The heat from her body seeps into mine and I rest my hands on her hips to steady her.

‘You good, Blush?’ I ask her. She feels small and fragile in my arms.

Looking up through long lashes, she steadily meets my gaze. ‘Yes. Thank you.’

This is the moment where I’m supposed to step away. Her eyes drift down to my lips, and mine immediately move to hers. My thumb strokes her side, as if it has a mind of its own. She draws her bottom lip between her teeth, and I groan.

‘You look beautiful tonight,’ I murmur.

Even in the dimly lit room, I see her cheeks darken. ‘There you go, being nice again.’

‘Don’t get used to it,’ I tease, involuntarily tightening my grip on her.

‘I won’t. You generally don’t stick around long enough to follow through.’

I step back as if she physically slapped me. She pushes my hands off her hips and continues trailing through the crowd. I stare after her for a few moments, shocked at her words, even though I shouldn’t be.

Sighing, I follow her. She’s seated beside Zayden at a small table littered with empty glasses.

‘I’ll get us a round of drinks,’ I say, mainly to avoid sitting down beside her right after that awkward moment we just shared.

I wait in line for ten minutes before I get served. Placing the tray down back at the table, I hand the drinks to Zayden and Anya. I sit down beside her. Her bare thigh brushes my leg, and she angles her body to lean away from me. A muscle in my cheek jumps. I don’t know why her attitude is bothering me so much.

Because she has always chased you, and now she isn’t. And you don’t like it.

Ignoring the annoying voice in my head, I throw my drink back. I’m starting to feel the effects of the alcohol taking place now and I welcome the warm, floaty feeling with open arms.

‘Feeling any better?’ Zayden asks, turning to face his sister.

They look alike. Same emerald-green eyes, with a dusting of freckles across their noses. Zayden’s hair is lighter than Anya’s, streaked blond from too many hours out in the sun. He towers above her, though.

I glance somewhere over her shoulder, finding it difficult to remain focused on her words and not get distracted by how incredible she looks. She was always pretty, but now ... she’s beautiful. Very beautiful.

‘Yeah, this is a nice distraction.’ She twists the straw between her fingers and smiles, although it’s not quite meeting her eyes.

‘Good.’ He grins, not noticing the tension in her shoulders. Zayden is carefree and relaxed, with an easy smile on his face as he scans the room. I’ve been worried about him, but he is handling the break-up better than I expected him to. Although some days are better than others. ‘This is the perfect place to get lost in for a while.’

‘I have been here before, you know,’ she points out.

‘I’m ignoring that fact because in my mind you’re still my sweet, innocent little sister who has never done anything I have done.’

Little does he know.

She laughs. It’s soft and warm, unchanged since we were kids. ‘Sure. You keep thinking that, big bro.’

‘I can and I will.’

‘How are you going with everything?’ Anya asks softly, and I struggle to hear her over the music. ‘With Leasa leaving?’

Zayden leans back. ‘I miss her. A lot. I know breaking up was the right thing to do, but she was always there. Every day. Now she’s just ... gone. And we don’t speak.’ He shakes his head for a moment. ‘She would send me engagement rings that she liked, and now we don’t even follow each other on social media. It’s kind of ... wild how fast it all happened.’

‘Break-ups are awful,’ she says, offering him a sympathetic look. ‘I’m sorry.’

He shrugs. ‘It’s whatever. We are going to be much happier. The both of us.’

‘I hope so,’ she says with a sad smile. ‘Have you spoken to Mum at all? She’s on my case about never hearing from you.’ She wraps her lips around the straw and I gulp, looking away for a moment until I see her put the glass back down and rest her hands in her lap.

The teasing grin Zayden was wearing drops from his face, and he fidgets with his drink. My jaw clenches. I hate that I know the reason and she doesn’t, but when Zayden confided in me I promised I would never breathe a word of it to anyone. We all promised each other there’d never be secrets between us, and yet we all break the rules sometimes.

‘No.’

Anya opens her mouth to ask more, but Zayden raises his hand in a ‘stop’ signal.

‘We’re having fun tonight. And that topic is not an option.’ His voice is firm, leaving no room for negotiation.

‘Okay. Fair.’ She relents – a little too easily in my opinion, but she is probably aware this is not the right time or place to be delving into such topics – and leans back in the seat. I absolutely don’t notice the way the dress inches up her thigh. ‘But I will be revisiting this.’

‘Sure,’ he retorts sarcastically. ‘Can’t wait.’

‘Are you excited to be back on campus tomorrow?’ she asks, and I scoot a little further down the booth, accepting the fact that she doesn’t want to include me in this conversation. She hasn’t seen her brother for a while, so I understand. It’s my fault there’s tension between us. I just wish we could go back to being friends like we used to be. There haven’t been many people in my life who I’ve had effortless conversations with and felt completely at ease around, like I have with Zayden and Anya. I miss our hang outs.

Zayden twists his face into a frown. ‘Classes don’t start until Monday.’

‘Yeah, but we have all the intro stuff.’

‘I’m not going to that. I’m already playing football; I don’t need anything extra added to my schedule. And I don’t need any more friends.’ Zayden glances at me with a cocky grin. ‘Already got too many of them.’

I give him the middle finger and he grins.

‘Whatever,’ she says.

‘Whatever,’ he mimics. Looking over her head at me, he gives me a nod. ‘I’ll get this round.’

I’m feeling light-headed from the last one, but I don’t discourage him. The amount we are drinking is tame compared to what we used to drink when we were first legally able to go out partying.

The overcrowded club is already hard to breathe in, and I struggle even more when I finally let myself look at Anya again. She is staring right back now that it’s just the two of us.

‘So, how was your gap year?’ I ask. ‘Well. Years , technically.’

She exhales. ‘Tried to become an artist and discovered it’s much harder than I thought.’

‘Your paintings are incredible.’

‘Not enough, apparently.’

‘What do you mean by that?’ I query, genuinely curious.

‘No one wanted to put my art in their shows. I finally managed to get my paintings into the local markets, but I hardly sold anything.’

‘Don’t give up yet. This kind of thing takes time.’

She is silent as she gazes at me, looking tense. It seems I don’t know how to talk to her properly anymore. Our conversations feel stilted and awkward, as if I’m not saying the right thing. That’s never been a problem before.

‘So, you’re studying some sort of art major, I’m guessing?’

She nods. ‘Yeah. A Bachelor of Fine Arts.’ She swirls the liquid around her glass, eyes glued to it.

‘Are you excited to start classes?’ I ask her, just to say something .

‘Yeah,’ she replies, leaning forward and resting her arm over her knee. ‘I can’t wait for a fresh start.’

‘Me too.’

She stills, narrowing her eyes. ‘What do you mean?’

The corner of my mouth twitches and I lean forward, mirroring her position, placing our faces close to each other as I rest my arms onto my knees. She glances down at them. She once told me how much she loves tattoos, and since then I have been inking myself more and more. ‘I enrolled at Stratton too.’

She blinks. ‘You did?’

‘I did.’

‘Are you studying Exercise Science?’

My heart skips a beat at her casual question. She already knows what I want to study, despite us not talking for so long.

She remembers.

‘Yeah,’ I reply. ‘I am.’

‘That’s good,’ she says softly. ‘You always wanted to do that.’

My heart is beating fast and I drag my eyes away from her, needing a moment to catch my breath and calm down. She makes me feel all over the place.

‘And since you travelled ...’ she trails off, the crease in her forehead deepening as she puts two and two together. ‘This will be your first year.’

‘You’re good at this.’ I nod encouragingly, leaning even further forward and giving her a sarcastic grin.

Rolling her eyes, she takes a long sip of her drink. ‘Therefore, we might be in some of the intro classes together.’

‘Potentially, yes.’

‘Great.’ She forces a smile onto her face, as if the thought of sharing classes with me is the worst news she’s heard all day. Maybe it is.

‘Excellent.’

‘Superb,’ she counters.

‘Swell.’

She snorts a laugh, which makes me laugh too. She has always done that.

‘Since we’re now roommates and classmates, we can carpool and study together,’ I suggest with a flirty wink.

‘You mean I would tutor you?’ she asks sweetly, not missing a beat. She places her lips around her straw while maintaining eye contact with me.

Swallowing, I shift as the blood rushes to my groin almost uncomfortably. No girl has ever affected me the way she does and it’s maddening.

‘You wish, Blush. I could ace every test without attending a single lecture.’

She scoffs, shaking her glossy hair over her shoulder. I would do anything to be able to run my fingers through it one more time, holding her to me.

If only things were different.

‘Whatever helps you sleep at night, party boy.’

‘I sleep very well, thank you very much.’

‘I’m sure you do. No thoughts in that small brain of yours to keep you up.’ She sighs theatrically.

Grinning, I lean forward, so close I can see the freckles dotted across her nose and feel the heat of her breath fanning across my lips. ‘Don’t tell me my intelligence isn’t a turn on to you, Blush. I seem to remember a very detailed journal entry—’

She squeals, smacking my arm and turning beetroot red. ‘Oh my God!’ Sinking back into her seat, she covers her face. ‘You’re such an asshole.’

Smirking, I lean back. ‘Checkmate.’

‘Fuck you.’ She pouts.

‘If you want.’

Her fingers open and she peers through the gaps. She slowly lowers her hands, staring at me for a moment. The cocky grin drifts off my face when the seriousness of our past presses heavily between us once more.

I hate this.

Her gaze shifts over my head and she pales, ducking quickly.

‘Shit,’ she half groans.

‘What?’ I ask, looking over to see Dylan striding in with Anya’s ex-best friend. The very one he cheated on her with. Seeing him strut into a club, showing off his other woman, makes my blood boil and leaves a bad taste in my mouth. A slow, calm smile stretches over my lips and I lean close to her, latching my focus onto those soft emerald eyes I love so much.

‘Be right back. I’m going to commit murder,’ I say.

‘Don’t! Let’s just go.’

‘No way.’

‘I can’t have him see me here single and alone!’

‘Am I invisible?’ I raise an eyebrow.

‘He’s going to know I’m not with you,’ she says with a groan, sinking even lower into the leather seat.

‘How would he know that?’ I counter, my stomach tightening at the thought of what I’m about to suggest.

‘Hmm?’ she asks, looking up at me.

‘How would he know we aren’t together?’

‘Because you’re Zayden’s best friend.’

‘But everyone has always noticed this.’ I wave my hand between us. ‘Every partner we’ve ever had, in fact. All our friends at school. Even our families.’

She looks surprised that I openly admit to this.

‘You can’t deny it,’ I continue, and when I shift in my seat, my knee presses against hers.

‘I’m not,’ she says slowly, eyes darting to where our legs are touching. That’s something neither of us can deny. The effect we have on each other is unmatched.

‘Come on, then,’ I say persuasively, tilting my lips into a smirk. ‘Let’s dance.’

‘Zayden is here.’

Using my chin, I point in the direction of the back corner, where Zayden has his tongue down the throat of a blonde. Anya screws her face up, probably not having realised it’s been a while since he left the table. My heart hurts for Zayden. He is desperate to forget his ex, and he thinks distracting himself with girls and booze is going to help. I hope it does, but I know it’s like sticking a Band-Aid over a gaping wound. I know that more than anyone.

‘I don’t know about this,’ she says, doubt clouding her face as she chews her lip, looking anxious. I hate that Dylan makes her feel like this. I can see the damage he has done, and it makes me livid.

Perhaps you’re so angry he hurt her because you did too .

‘Come on.’ I grin, nudging her with my elbow. ‘If you’re not going to let me punch him, this is second best.’

She eyes me for a moment. I see the gears in her mind turning. Relenting, she shrugs and places her hand into my open palm. I pull her to her feet, wrapping my arm around her without a second thought. Holding her so close, her scent washing over me, feels so right. My heart skips a beat in my chest. Her scent, her presence, her touch – they’re all much more intoxicating than the drinks I’ve been downing all night.

I see Dylan out of the corner of my eye. He stops suddenly, clearly seeing us, but I don’t let on that we know he is here. Leading Anya to the dance floor, I step back and twirl her around. She throws her head back and laughs. The neon lights splash across her skin, and heat spreads up my neck with every move she makes. Anya looks free and completely at ease as she dances, moving slowly and sensually.

She throws her arms over my shoulders, and I yank her closer, so close our noses graze. Her eyes lock on to mine, and a thrill shoots through my body. I’ve been numb for years, blocking out memories of her, and now they’re all rushing back in full force.

She exhales, her warm breath blowing over my lips. I lean in, pressing her forehead to mine. She is warm, soft, and feels perfect in my hands. I have no idea what spell she has me under, but I’m drowning in it and, honestly, I don’t care to be saved.

‘You’re a good actor,’ she whispers.

I drag her closer, leaving zero distance between us. ‘I’m not acting.’

My hands roam over her in ways they shouldn’t. With every moment that passes a new fire ignites somewhere inside my body. I swear under my breath in longing, pressing her body to mine. I want to kiss her more than I have ever wanted anything.

For a few seconds, I completely forget about anyone else around us. My hands slide down the sides of her body and grip the ass that has been taunting me all night. I give her a sharp squeeze, earning a delicious moan from her.

Clearly, I have no fucking self-control around her. Considering how much I usually have, I should be shocked that it slipped so hard and fast. But if I’m honest, it really isn’t a surprise. The alcohol has me buzzing. Light, careless, brainless.

Then suddenly, we are yanked apart, and Anya lets out an alarmed yelp. Dylan glares at her. She stares angrily back at him before he spins quickly, and a fist flies towards my face. Years of gruelling football games and training have thankfully taught me to react quickly.

So has being raised by my father.

I dance out of the way lightly, feeling the wind on my face as his fist soars past me. ‘You missed.’ I smirk, simply because I can’t help myself.

‘I always knew there was something between you two,’ Dylan spits, his cheeks red, eyes glossy. Sweat beads across his forehead, and I wonder if he has taken something more than just alcohol tonight. It wouldn’t surprise me; he used to deal back in school. Not that I think he ever told Anya that.

‘You were right. For once.’

‘Fuck you,’ he growls, pushing my chest roughly.

I stay standing where I am, glancing down at his hands on me. My fingers twitch, the urge to react a delicious temptation, but I swallow it down. I am not him. I will never be him .

‘If you actually cared for Anya, you wouldn’t have done what you did.’ Stepping back, I let my hands fall to my side.

Dylan’s upper lip pinches into a sneer and he lunges at me. A hard shove throws me back and I stumble as Zayden moves in front of me. He thrusts his elbow in an upswing motion, connecting with Dylan’s jaw. He yelps in pain, stumbling back and crashing to the ground. A few girls scream and dart out of the way just in time.

Dylan glares up at us, blood pooling in the corner of his mouth.

‘That’ll be the last time you ever lay a hand on Mason,’ Zayden tells him in a low voice. ‘And this is for Anya.’ Slamming his foot down, he crunches his heel into Dylan’s stomach. Dylan roars in pain, but the music drowns it out. I see the security guards rushing our way and I reach for Anya’s hand automatically, pulling her close.

Adrenaline washes through me like a tidal wave, and I love the familiar zing it brings. Considering everything I’ve been through, I know violence isn’t the way to solve anything, but I can’t deny it feels fucking good to see his blood right now. He makes me so angry I can barely think straight.

‘We gotta go,’ I say to Zayden. He turns, a wicked grin lighting up his face.

We push through the crowd and Zayden reaches out, grabbing some random girl’s drink and sculling it. She shouts in protest, and he tosses it over his shoulders, whooping with glee as we fall through the door, laughing wildly.

Zayden has always been a wild one. We both had some issues with anger in the past, and I’ve dedicated a lot of time and energy to working on them, but Zayden still seems to be stuck in his ways.

I knew I needed help after one distinct incident. I got in a fight with a player from a rival team in a game a few years ago, when we still played for our home town. He made a comment about Anya to me, knowing it would rile me up. Everyone could tell there was something between us, even though I was determined to quash those rumours as best I could. When I tried walking away, he tackled me really hard – an illegal tackle – and I just lost it. I blacked out momentarily, and when I realised what I was doing, people were screaming. Blood soaked my hands and the grass around us. When I looked up and saw the fear in the onlookers’ faces, I felt sick to my stomach. Because I was just like him. My father.

I never want to feel like that again.

I remember Zayden’s face when I met his gaze ... it will haunt me forever. He looked so disappointed in me, despite his own battles with self-control. He didn’t have to say anything, but I knew exactly what he was thinking.

You look just like him.

Playing football means being among high-level tension and mind-consuming competitiveness, so it’s a given that fights break out, but I’ve never raised a hand since. It was the wake-up call I needed.

We sprint down the street, passing people who stare at us in shock. When we are finally free we slow to a stop, leaning on the wall of a bakery, unable to catch our breath from laughing so much.

‘That must have felt so good!’ Anya says.

‘Been wanting to do that for years.’ Zayden grins, breathless.

‘The look on his face!’ Anya exclaims, wiping her eyes. ‘It’s imprinted in my brain now.’

My eyes drift to Zayden for a moment. I’m positive he didn’t see us dancing, otherwise this night would be going in a very different direction. He has always been overprotective of Anya, taking on a father-like role, as their dad hasn’t been around since they were young children – their stepfather not counting. But when it comes to me around her, he is especially overprotective.

‘Hey!’ someone bellows, and the three of us exchange quick glances before running off again. We dive into the first taxi we see in a tangle of limbs, hair and Anya’s handbag, which smacks me in the face.

‘Go!’ Zayden yells at the poor man trying to eat his sandwich.

He jumps in fright and quickly starts the car. It jolts forward and I fly into the back of the seat, my head connecting painfully with the leather headrest.

‘Ow,’ I mutter, leaning back and rubbing my head.

‘I can’t believe Dylan dropped like that.’ Anya laughs so hard a whistle escapes her nose, making me laugh too.

‘He folded like a lawn chair!’ Zayden calls from the front, and the driver winces at his volume.

We erupt into more laughter and the taxi driver frowns at us, his bushy grey eyebrows bunching together to form one. He doesn’t seem too impressed with our behaviour, but the more we try to stop laughing, the harder it gets. Zayden slaps money into his hand once we stop in front of the house. He glowers at us as we climb out, muttering under his breath. I’m glad it wasn’t an Uber, otherwise he would have given us a bad rating.

As we walk up the path, Zayden throws his arms around our shoulders.

‘Always a good night with my two best friends,’ he sings. He stumbles into me, almost knocking all three of us over in the process, but I manage to right us again. He gives us a wobbly smile. ‘Love you guys.’

I reach out, ruffling his hair. ‘Right back at you, bud.’

When we make it inside, Zayden walks two steps before collapsing onto the lounge. I go to help him and realise my own movements are a bit wonky. I give him a quick once-over and confirm he’s okay, then make my way up to my room.

Turning, I go to talk to Anya, but she is already gone.

An hour later, Zayden is passed out face-first on the lounge and I am sitting on the kitchen bench, handfeeding myself cereal. Anya wanders into the kitchen, dressed in a hoodie and sleep shorts.

‘Well, that was a good time,’ I say, leaning back on my free hand.

Rolling her lips into her mouth, she leans against the counter. I offer her the box and she takes a handful. Now that we’re semi-sober, the reality of tonight is starting to sink in.

‘Thank you,’ she murmurs. ‘For what you did.’

My eyes sweep over her rosy cheeks to the pretty freckles that I love, then up to those round eyes.

‘Any time, Blush.’

The corner of her mouth tilts up. She peers over at her brother, rolling her eyes. ‘He’ll have a sore head tomorrow.’

‘Definitely.’

There’s silence between us for a few moments, and I’m a little sad that what happened tonight hasn’t really made things easier for me, regarding my feelings towards her and the tension between us.

Tucking her hair behind her ear, she doesn’t meet my gaze as she turns.

‘Night, Mason.’

‘Goodnight, Blush.’