Page 99 of Summer Lessons

Mason smiled as though he didn’t miss it severely when the season hadn’t even started. “Dane’s playing my spot this next session. I’ll go back when it’s over.”

“Mason?”

Mason looked up at the unfamiliar voice at his shoulder. “Uh….”

“George? George Williams? I’m a friend of Ira’s?”

George Williams (stupid name!) was tall—as tall as Mason—and a carbon copy of John Cena with a Jem Finch style Boy Scout cut instead of a buzz cut. He had a square face, deep laugh grooves around his lean mouth, a square jaw, and piercing gray eyes.

Dane looked at him and made a little sucking sound through his teeth.

Mason smiled through a locked jaw. “Ira and I broke up.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I kept expecting to run into you after that—you know, restaurants and such, but I never did. I wanted to tell you Ira shouldn’t have gotten all of the friends in the split.”

Wonderful. “Well, I moved to Sacramento in August—you’re only seeing me here because I’m here with family.”C’mon, George—get the hint.

“That’s excellent. Can I join you for dessert?”

“Of course you can,” Janette said warmly. “Any friend of Mason’s is welcome here.”

George sat down, and Mason’s father ordered another helping of crème brûlée and Mason steeled himself for polite small talk.

George wasn’t abadtalker. He was on a rec league softball team, and when he found out about Mason’s soccer team, he genially compared notes. Dessert was not awful, but Mason’s father yawned twice during the first cup of coffee, and Mason stood up.

“It was so nice to see you again,” George said, standing up to go with them. “Give me your phone number, and I can call you the next time I’m in Sacramento.”

“I actually live in a suburb a few miles out. It’s not really next door.” Of course, Sacramento was one big sprawl of feeder suburbs, so that was probably not news.

“Which one? My sister lives in Folsom, and I visit her all the time!”

“Fair Oaks,” Dane said eagerly. “We’re practically neighbors.” Mason didn’t even bother to glare at him. That look obviously had no power, and his eyes were getting tired. “Here,” Dane continued, oblivious and irritating to the extreme. “Let me give you Mason’s number—meeting up would be great! Mason and I have a pool.”

“Dane!” Mason hissed, shocked. Meddling brat!

“Well, we do.” Dane batted his eyelashes at Mason, and Mason fought off a headache.

“I’m sure his sister does too.”

“No, actually—and she regrets it!” Dane handed George back his phone, and George’s lean mouth stretched into an impossibly wide smile. “I’ll be sure to call!”

Mason didn’t realize he was growling until he was helping his mother into the SUV.

“Mason, what’s wrong? He seemed like a nice man!”

“He’s peachy,” Mason said. “Whatever. I’m just not—”

“I know you’re not,” Dane said, shamelessly crawling into their conversation as he climbed into the passenger seat. “That’s why you need to.”

“That’s the furthest thing from the truth. It took me a few months to recover from Ira—”

“Oh, this is worse—way the fuck worse than Ira,” Dane said seriously. “Dad, are you in?”

“In the car, yes. In this conversation? Not if you paid me.”

“Smart man,” Mason said, smiling at his father benevolently. Roger winked at him, letting Mason know whose side he was on.

Mason got into the car and started it up, and Dane got rolling too.