He was looking at the tattoo, but when our eyes met, I waited for the fire alarm to sound. But it didn't. Mason did, however, give me my answer. He was going to kiss me, and it was going to be the kiss. His hands went around my hips, careful of the tattoo, and he pulled me to him. I stared up at him. He so wasn't who I thought he was. He turned out to be so much more.
"I made my decision," I told him in a whisper.
"I can see that." His voice was huskier than I'd ever heard it.
"My family can accept me, or they can't."
He nodded and rubbed his nose against mine, holding the closeness. "I've made a decision, too."
"And?" I waited, my bare feet on my tiptoes and my pounding heart in my throat.
"I'm done waiting."
He pressed his lips to mine and I held so still. When I felt the pressure there, his lips pushing against mine, I felt my legs threaten to buckle. The softness of his lips felt like taking a first breath, like opening your eyes and seeing the sun for the first time. I realized then that I had experienced all of those things with Mason, so it was fitting that he continued to give me my firsts in this new life. Soon the pressure increased even more and I knew he was asking me to open for him. That was it for me. I did as he asked, and when his tongue eased past my teeth and came to dance with mine, it was already better than anything Andy had ever dreamt about, let alone done to me. And my next thought was, Andy who?
He was such a gentleman. I was sure a guy like him that hadn't dated in such a long time, who had a willing, half-naked girl in his arms, had plenty of things that we could do on the brain. But this kiss, though mind-blowing in every sense of the word, was still setting a pace that said, One thing at a time.
His hand moved from my hip slightly, placing it snugly into the small of my back and pressing me to him. The other came up to hold my face like I was precious, like I was the only thing that mattered in this world for the time being. His lips pulled and drew little noises from my throat that surprised me. I pushed both arms around his back. He was hard all over, always hidden by the shirts he had to wear for work, but now, with barely anything but scraps between us, I felt it all.
His muscles moved under my palms and I found my fingers digging into his back to anchor me. The surprised groan that rattled through him and into my mouth had me sighing and sagging against him. He held me up to him easily and continued to ravage me. I loved how his tongue tasted. And I loved how that scratchy chin of his rasped against my cheek. It really was like I'd never been kissed before. He was so, so right about that. Nothing else before this mattered. And a hundred comas? I'd never forget this.
Then he changed pace, and instead of using his tongue, he sucked on my lips, one by one, like each was equally important. So I sucked back. While he firmly had my top lip, I gripped his bottom. He groaned louder at that, and I loved it so much that I didn’t want him to ever stop making that noise. So I pushed my tongue past his lips like he'd done to me and pressed myself as close as I could get to him.
The hand on my cheek moved to the back of my head, tunneling through my hair and tugging just a little to give him control. And just like that, I was back to being the one unable to control the noise coming from me, and hanging on for my life.
He pulled back slightly. His ragged breaths loud. "Are you OK?"
"Yes, why?" I said too quickly. "Why are you stopping?"
He laughed a little. "You're shaking like a leaf, Em."
It was then that I realized how cold I was. And my muscles were giving out, too. My legs were trembling with the effort to stay on my tiptoes after all that walking. I looked at them like the traitors they were.
"Here." He reached for his coat and threw it around my shoulders. "I'm sorry. I should have thought about you getting cold without…your clothes on." He set me on the couch gently, mindful of the tattoo, wrapped in his jacket that smelled like him, and then sat beside me, pulling my legs into his lap. He massaged my calves. I wanted to moan at that, too, but held myself in check. "The muscles take a while to get used to strain and use."
He dug his thumb into the inside leg muscle and I did moan, unable to keep it in. He smiled smugly and kept doing it. "Sorry about this, too. I could have made sure we were sitting first before…that."
"I wouldn't change a second of…that." I smiled at him when his own smug smile turned shy. So honest. You could always see what was right on his face as the truth. "Thank you."
"For what?" he asked softly.
"For keeping your word."
He leaned forward and let his fingers rake through my hair, his thumb tracing my earlobe. "You're more than welcome, Emma."
"And thanks for the tattoo, also." I smirked at his silent chuckle.
"You're more than welcome," he repeated. "Anytime. Though," his thumb rubbed across my ankle bone, "inking this pretty white skin makes me feel like a villain."
I giggled slightly. "Are you going to start tattooing girls all the time now? Did I start a trend?"
"No," he said softly. "You will always be my one and only girl." We stared at each other. "You want to come back over tomorrow? I'll check your ink and we can eat some dinner if you want. You can tell me everything that's been going on with you."
"Yeah. I'd like that."
"It's getting late. Are your parents going to wonder where you are?"
"Probably," I answered truthfully. "I'm trying with them, but maybe I need to try harder. They both are still so closed-minded about it all."
"I figured. Especially Isabelle." He shook his head. "She was so good with you before, but she's…just a little different now." He rubbed his head and looked at the clock. "You have a session tomorrow, too, but we can just do it here if you want, that way they don't have to drive you anywhere and you can…stay for a while. If you want."
"I want." He stopped massaging and let his hand rest on my knee. He was looking at the floor.
"I'm sorry about…earlier." He cleared his throat. "I just, uh… I don't normally burst into tears in front of people. That's never happened. Not even at my friend's funeral. I just…couldn't cry. One more reason I felt so guilty."
I twisted my fingers together. "It may sound weird, but I'm glad you did with me." His look was comically confused. "I just mean that you trust me. That was why I let you do the tattoo without me seeing the design first." His face softened. "You trusted me with this huge thing and I had nothing to give you back, so…"
"Em…you have no idea what you've given me." He sighed. "When I pulled into the yard after leaving, and you were still here, I could have run away with you right then."
I laughed. "I may take you up on that one day." He smiled and continued to caress my skin. "You've got so much pressure on you," I stated. I didn't want to bring everything back up, but I just wanted him to know that his struggles were noted. He shrugged a little. "So much pressure and so much responsibility."
He touched my chin. "Don't worry about me. I've got broad shoulders."
He leaned over my knee and gave each of my lips attention before he pulled back. "I'll take you home, OK? And tomorrow, I'll be home at four. Text me when you want to come over and I'll come get you, whenever you want."
"I will. I want to be here."
He ran the pad of his thumb over my lips. "Thank you, Em."
Useless Fact Number Twelve
The right lung takes in more air than the left.
I had somehow managed to skip school again that day, but I knew it would be my last offense without consequences. I texted Mason and said I was coming, but was still surprised when I reached the end of the gate. He was there, grinning and opening the door for me. I laughed as I got in. I winced as I plopped down and rubbed my hip. He wasn't lying about it being sore.
When we got to his house, I went in and said hello to his mom. I watched in sympathy as he once again explained to her why he looked different, and why she couldn't remember. We spoke a little, mostly about The Price is Right, and when I said my goodbyes, she once a
gain called me Mariah.
"That's so weird why she calls you that. We don't even know anyone named Mariah," he said, and opened the door to the shop for me. When we came inside, there was a man inside, sitting in the chair.
"Mason! What up, man?"
"Rob?" Mason put his hand around my waist and moved me to sit on the stool. "What are you doing? Long time, no see."
"I came to get fresh ink," he said slowly and eyed me closely, "but I can see…that you're busy."
"A little bit, yeah," Mason said with a smirk.
"Well, I won't keep you." He stood, but gave Mason a look. "But…"
"Oh, no," Mason groaned. "Milo? What happened?"
"His boys are doing a rager tonight. Thought you should know."
Mason cursed and punched his fist into the counter top. "All right. Thanks, man."
"Later."
He left and I sat wondering what was going on. "Mason?"
"It's my brother Milo," he explained through a sigh. "They organize these parties and get busted. I've bailed him out twice already. One more strike and he's going to juvi."
"Oh…sorry."
"I just don’t know what to do anymore." He plopped down on the couch. "He doesn't even want my help, but I can't just…abandon him. He left because of me, because he blamed me."
I replied slowly, "Mason, you can't take responsibility for his actions and choices."
"But he said he blamed me."
"But you're not making the decision for him to throw a party for a bunch of underage kids, Mason."
He huffed. "I know, but I can't give up on him."
"So let's go get him."
He jerked his gaze to mine. "What?"
"Do you know where he is?" He nodded. "Let's go get him. Come on." I held my hand out to him. He took it slowly and stood up in front of me.
"Let's change your bandage first." His voice had suddenly gone husky. He moved toward me, never taking his eyes off mine, and tilted my chin up to meet his mouth. I felt myself sway toward him, but he held me firmly. Too soon, he released me and told me to turn around. I did as he asked and he pulled my jeans down just enough to replace the bandage.
His hands were gentle and he pulled the tape off slowly and easily. When he was done, he once again kissed my skin above the bandage. He gripped my hand as he pulled me outside.
Then we were in his car and heading across town. "You don't have to go with me. I can take you home."
It was already getting dark, but it didn't matter. I wanted to do this with him. "I'm with you."
He reached over and took my hand in his, letting them rest in my lap. "Thank you."
"Where’s your Dad?"
He made a disapproving noise in the back of his throat. "He's a real bastard with bastard filling. He used to beat my mom when I was a kid, but he finally left us when I was about five. Haven't seen him since."
"Mmm, sorry. I didn’t mean to-"
"No, it's fine," he assured and brought my hand up to kiss my fingers. "I'm over it. My mom was an awesome lady. I had a good life, but I've always felt responsible for everyone." He looked at me and smiled, that same weird look in his eyes as once before. "It's why I was so attached to you in the beginning, too. It's why I'm driving across town to stop my idiotic brother. I just…can't seem to stop."
"That sounds like an admirable flaw. And an adorable one."
He chuckled and smiled shyly. He pulled into a party that appeared to be in full swing. "Dang…" he muttered, throwing the car in park near the curb. "I'll be right back."
"I'm coming with you!" I said and scrambled to keep up. He threw the front door open and we were blasted with music. The partygoers eyed us curiously, but ultimately dismissed us. Mason grabbed my hand and took me up the stairs with him, pushing some guys that were smoking out of the way. The cloud blew through my face and I gasped. Not cigarette smoke…
Mason threw open several doors down the hall before reaching one where he stopped. His shoulders sagged and I felt horrible for him. "Milo, come on. Let's go."
I peeked under Mason's arm to see a smaller, thinner, shorter version of Mason, obviously drunk and zipping his pants. The girl in the bed rolled over, uncaring of who was in the room. I covered my mouth to stop the gasp.
"Get out of here," Milo slurred. "You’re not my dad, Mason."
"You're right. I'm not. Your dad left and didn't come back. I'm here. Now, go get in the car."
"NO!" He swayed as he tried to put his shoes back on. The kid could only be sixteen or seventeen at the most. He spied me peeking under Mason's arm. "Who's she?"
"This is Emma," Mason said evenly and went to stand at the foot of the bed. "She's coming, too. So come on. Let's go home."
"Whatever, Mason!" he yelled. "You're such a buzz kill."
Mason grabbed him by the collar. "Car. Now."
"Get off me!" he pushed at him, but Mason was a considerable presence next to Milo. "Get off!"
"Stop fighting, Milo." He dragged him down the hall and looked back to make sure I was following. The music was so loud that Milo's protests could no longer be heard by me. I followed them through the throngs of people to the curb where he unceremoniously dumped him into the back seat.
He must've been drunker than I thought because he stayed down, his mouth open, and he looked to be a sleep. Mason opened the door for me and gave me that I'm sorry look. I shook my head, kissed his cheek, and climbed in. As soon as he cranked the car, we heard the sirens in the distance. He shook his head. "Just in time."
We drove in silence back to his house with an AWOLNATION CD playing in the background. Once we arrived, the kid was passed out in the back still, so Mason carried him inside and tossed him on his bed. It was the first time I'd seen his bedroom. As I was turning to leave, he woke.
"Hey, girl." I looked back at him while Mason took his brother's shoes off. "You dating my big brother, or what? 'Cause he'll just ruin you, you know. He doesn't care about anyone but himself." I stared at him. Mason had just saved his ungrateful behind and this was how he repaid him?
He let his head fall back to the bed and Mason tossed a blanket over him. He guided me away from his room with a hand on the small of my back. I couldn't believe this was what Mason's life was like. All he did was take care of other people.
We retreated back to the shop. "The sad thing?" he asked as soon as he shut the door and pulled me to him by my hips. "He'll be gone by morning."
"Can't you stop him?"
He shook his head. "He's almost eighteen, and then I won't have any way to help him anymore. The next time he gets caught, he'll go to real jail. But," he shrugged, stuffing his hands into my back pockets, "at least I can say I tried to help him."
"I'm so sorry. Between him and your mom and…me, all you do is take care of people."
He smiled and cupped my face. "Well, two of you deserve it." He kissed my smiling mouth. I circled my arms around his neck and hoped that by being here with him, his load was lighter. I could think of nothing that I could do for him, but be there.
A little later, he took me home. The make-out session in the front seat was another level of amazing that I had yet to experience until then. I felt like my lungs couldn't keep up with my want to keep going. I was dying, drowning, and was perfectly fine with it.
Mason dropped me off at the gate, but said that he didn't feel comfortable sneaking around. That if we were doing this, then we were doing it all the way, and needed to tell my parents, even though we knew they didn't approve.
It scared me. I was worried that my parents might do something to get Mason fired, even though he refused to have any relationship with me at all until I'd left the facility.
But he was right. It wasn't wrong for us to be together, so we didn't need to sneak. Since we'd conveniently forgotten my therapy session, he said I could come over tomorrow; we'd go for a run together and do some strength exercises. I agreed and we said tomorrow night, I'd tell my parents. He offered to go with me, but I thought it would
be better with just me the first time.
"Bye, you," he said sweetly.
"Bye, you." I waved my fingers at him and went inside. Isabella thought I had been at cheerleading practice. I didn't feel inclined to correct her. We ate dinner quietly. They were talking about Mitchell and Felicia coming home again for a weekend soon. It was probably horrible to think, but I wasn't thrilled about that.
I decided that I needed to stop trying so hard to be the old me. They needed to see the changes in me and stop expecting certain things or behaviors. So, that night at dinner, I told them that I was quitting cheerleading.
Isabella's eyes were the size of golf balls. Rhett just seemed disappointed and shook his head. I had been expecting that, so I tried to explain myself. "I tried. I went to practice and it just didn’t work out."
"Your physical strength will come back. It just takes time," Rhett reasoned.
"It's not my physical strength. It's the fact that it's not me. It's not who I am."
Isabella scoffed. "It's been who you are since you were five years old."
I spoke softly. "Not anymore. I'm sorry. I'm not trying to upset you. I just need to do what's right for me."
"You're giving up so easily," she said. "I expected more from you, honey."
OK, that stung. She got up, leaving Rhett and me at the table. "I'm sorry you're disappointed."
"We didn't raise a quitter, is all. I just wanted you to finish what you started."
"But I don't feel as though I started it." He looked at me. Really looked at me.
"I'm sorry to hear that," he whispered and got up.
I felt terrible. I really did. I didn't want to hurt them, but this was my fork in the road. I couldn't split myself in two trying to please everyone. So I went to bed early and dreaded school the next day.
When I got up, I peeled the side of the bandage off my tattoo even though Mason said I wasn't supposed to. I just had to see it. I sighed at seeing it again. It was so...beautiful. And it was all me.