Page 27 of Love at Full Tilt

Mason lets out another of those unrestrained laughs, a smile lingering on his face.

In the short time I’ve spent with him, I’ve begun to learn his smiles.

They may all be small and closed-mouthed, but they have different shapes and cadences.

His smart-ass smile tips up his lips on the right side of his mouth the tiniest bit higher and sharpens the angles of his face.

His amused smile shines in his steel-gray eyes like a lighthouse in a hurricane.

And his shy smile, the one I’ve seen most often, is practically a ghost. Flitting so quickly across his face you’ll miss it if you aren’t paying enough attention.

This time, it’s me who finds a new tank.

At the back of the room, it stretches from floor to ceiling, the brackish water behind the glass speckled with white jellyfish so small and bright they look like stars against a night sky.

They’re domed and spotted like mushrooms and could easily fit into the palm of my hand.

Leaning into the glass, I count them, slow and precise, trying to stop my heart’s rapid patter.

Being around Mason feels different today. Or maybe this is the way that it has always felt, but I’m too stressed right now about fighting with my friends to push it away.

He stops next to me, our shoulders close. His scent overwhelms the brininess of the salt water that laces the air.

“Why did you live with your grandfather?” I keep my eyes trained on the jellyfish as they dip and flow, dip and flow.

Mason’s arm is solid as it rests against mine.

He clears his throat, and when he speaks, his voice is so soft it hurts.

“When my mom died, Pops fell apart. He never got himself right again. He’ll tell you he sent me to my granddad because my grandma had died not too long before Mom and the old man needed the company, but really, I think Pops cared more about his grief and his gambling than me. ”

I tilt my head to see his face. Again, I want to say I’m sorry but don’t.

“It’s fine,” Mason whispers, like he can hear my thoughts.

“I was a hellion. Granddad straightened me out. I would have been a different person without him. I don’t think I would haveliked that person.

” His face is full of everything. I have to fist my hands to keep from cupping his cheeks.

He pats his pocket, his palm thumping against whatever book has taken residence in there today.

“He’s the one who told me to use what I’ve got to help others.

He believed I could be a teacher. So I’m working my ass off to save up money for college.

And I’m going to do it. For Granddad.” He’s a little breathless from talking so much. “And for me.”

My eyes sting. Everything he’s saying, I want it for him. But I want it for me, too. Not to be a teacher, but to have dreams. To want to do something so bad that I structure my whole world around it.

“Why are you helping me with this contest?” I whisper. “You need the money too.”

He glances down at me. In the dim light of the tank, his watercolor eyes look like shiny opals. They lock with mine, the intensity of his stare pinning me in place. “You’re the first person since my grandfather who actually sees me.”

My heartbeat is so fast, so loud, I can feel it thudding against my eardrums, tapping in my veins. “He’s right, you know? Your grandfather.”

Neither of us break eye contact. “Yeah?” Mason breathes.

“You’ve got that unbreakable patience the best teachers have. And you’re smart.”

He shakes his head hard. “No, I’m not. You should have seen my grades when I graduated last year. I probably won’t get in anywhere. I’ll have to start at community college and transfer.”

I cross my arms and shift so my entire body is facing him.

“Grades don’t mean anything except that you know how to work the system.

How to study or take a test or whatever.

I got really good grades and I’ve already forgotten half of what I learned.

But you’re killing these clues. You remember everything. And you don’t even like it here.”

The throbbing mass of spotted jellyfish cascades from the top of the tank to the bottom, bathing us in shimmery white light.

It frosts Mason’s face and hangs ice in his eyes, and I get that feeling again, that he’s accidentally stepped out of a fantasy world and ended up here.

Like he belongs somewhere full of magic and endless daylight and flowers that blossom as tall as trees.

His eyes dip to my lips, and my heart shudders. If he tries to kiss me right now, I’m not sure I’ll stop him.

“Thank you,” he says.

“For what?”

He shrugs, then lowers himself onto a nearby bench.

“Carter thinks it’s ridiculous to spend all this money for school to get a job where I’ll probably be making less than I do now.

” He scratches at the back of his neck. “And Pops, well, he thinks I’m too dumb to get into college, so it’s a waste of time.

He refuses to use a penny of Mom’s insurance money on school.

” He sniffs and drags the back of his hand across his nose.

I inch toward him until our knees meet. For once, I’m the one casting a shadow over him.

“You know, assuming he hasn’t already blown it all.”

His shoulders bow under the weight of everyone else’s versions of him. It’s like he can’t see himself through all the static.

But I do. Clear as day.

He glances up at me, and something in my face seems to shake him, because he tosses his gaze over my shoulder and coughs. “Have I ever told you this is my favorite part of the park? It’s the only part of Fableland that’s real.”

His words sting. Because real is exactly what I don’t want this place to be.

I ask him again what I asked him the first day we met. “What’s wrong with a little bit of magic?”

He spins his ring, focusing hard on the action like it’s a difficult task. “It’s a promise. And promises are just lies that haven’t happened yet.”

In the end, those are the words that shatter my resolve. I want him to believe in something, to trust in something, even if it’s just himself. But maybe for now, for this one second, it can beme.

I push forward until we’re chest to chest and cup his face in my hands. For the first time since I hurried away from Issy and Tess at lunch, I’m not thinking about my friends or my mother or what’s waiting for me at home. I’m not even running the third riddle through my head.

There’s only Mason and his rainstorm-colored eyes and the way I want him to feel the magic of this park, if only for a second.

I want to be a little bit of magic for him.

Our lips are barely two inches apart when I pause. My knees are shaking. My hands are shaking. Every part of me is liquid.

Beneath my fingers, Mason’s face tenses as if he’s fighting to keep still. “What?” he whispers.

“I was…Is it okay if I…if I kiss you?”

His lips part loosely, his eyes unblinking under his forest of lashes. I swear the blue in them sparks against the darkness. He nods slowly, but the movement ricochets through my body, snapping my nerves until each one is raw and buzzing.

I run my palms along his jaw. There’s a little bit of stubble, and it scratches against my skin.

Tons of people mill around us. Kids screaming. Parents calling their names. One kid bumps into our bench. Four toddlers kiss the glass of the jellyfish tank.

Yet somehow there’s no one but us. We’re trapped in this tiny bubble, hidden away from the world.

Mason waits. Patient as always. His eyes capture mine as I study his face. His hands search out my waist. Even through two tank tops I can feel their warmth, and it stirs me back into motion. I lower my face to his.

I don’t close my eyes until our lips meet.

Just to make sure it’s real.