How We Deal With Gravity(65)
“Uhhhhg, I’m so full,” I say, lying back on the blanket and pushing my plate toward him. He just looks at me and grins, then grabs my cornbread muffin and eats it whole. “You are like a bottomless pit!”
He stands up and brushes the crumbs from his shirt, then picks up our plates. “Bottomless pit of lovin’,” he says in his most ridiculous fake sexy voice. I roll my eyes at him, and slap at the back of his leg as he steps over me. “You know you love me.”
I can’t help but smirk when he walks away because he’s right—I know I do.
After dinner, we snuggle close, and Mason pulls the bottom edge of the blanket up over my legs to keep me warm. The old men tell a few stories, but we’re not really listening. We’re whispering to one another, like young campers up late at night.
“When did you know you wanted to play music?” I ask him, situating myself along his arm so I can watch his eyes animate while he talks.
“I used to watch your dad play with some of his friends, and I liked the way everyone looked at him. So one day I asked him to show me how to do a chord, and he did. The next day, I asked him to show me another. And we just sort of kept on going like that for months until he finally just gave me a guitar of my own,” Mason says. I love the way he loves my dad.
“I’m glad he taught you. You’re better than him, though, you know?” I say, leaning my weight into him, just needing to be closer.
“Yeah, I know,” he says, his face serious at first but quickly falling into a grin.
“How about you. Why are you studying English?” he asks.
I have to think about it for a few seconds, because my answer has changed since I took my first classes years ago. “I’ve always loved reading,” I start, but then I pause. “It’s more than that, though. It’s like I really understand books, and the story underneath the story. And, I had this fantasy of getting my PhD. I wanted to teach at some fancy college back East. But now…I think I just want to finish something.”
Mason’s stare at me seems thoughtful, and he leans forward to brush a hair away from my face and kiss my forehead lightly. “You’re amazing, you know that?” he says, still looking at me with the same intensity.
“I guess,” I say, looking down at my lap, uncomfortable with his compliment. There’s nothing very amazing about me at all.
“No, you are. Look at what you’ve done, on your own. If you want to teach at a college, Avery, you should,” he says, lifting my chin to look at him. “You should.”
The way he’s looking at me forms a lump in my throat. I’m not used to anyone challenging my decision to give up. My father supports me, and I know he’d cheer me on in whatever I do. But Mason—he’s doing more than that. He seems to actually believe in me.
“Why don’t you talk to your mom much?” I ask, wanting to divert the focus away from me for a while.
Mason lies back when I ask this, taking in a deep breath and folding his arms under his neck. His shirt lifts up just enough to show off his bare skin, and I want to touch it, so I lie back against him and run my hand under his shirt just to feel his warmth. I feel his body react when I do, so I don’t linger there long.
“My mom did the best she could,” he starts, but then chews at his cheek for a few seconds, his brow bunched, until he turns his body to face me. “No, that’s not true. She probably could have done better. She was always pawning me off on people, your dad more than most, so she could go on long weekends with guys she’d meet at the bar. She was always looking for that quick fix in life—marry rich and live easy. When I got old enough to realize what she was doing, I’d confront her about it. We had some serious fights when I was a teenager.”
“That’s when you stayed at our house a lot,” I whisper, connecting Mason’s story, which I already knew, but for some reason hearing it from him made me feel differently about it all. I felt sad, for him and for Barb.
“Yeah, Ray said it was better for me and my mom to have space, rather than ending up hating each other,” he says, his eyes coming to mine while he talks, and his lips tighten into a soft smile. “He was right. And I don’t hate her. I thought I did for a while, but I realize that she and I aren’t very different. We’re both selfish in our own way. And I know my mom loves me…she loves me the best she can.”
For some reason his words make me want to hold him tightly, so I cling to his side and squeeze his entire body to mine. When I do, he pulls me up to his face and kisses my lips softly. Then, he just stares at my eyes for minutes, the sounds of everything else behind us fading away. The longer he looks at me, the faster my heart races, but I can’t tear my eyes away. I won’t.
“I love you, Avery Abbot,” he says, and my stomach leaps up into my chest, my ribs constricting with every second that passes since he said it. I can’t help the tear that forms in my left eye, and I don’t dare stop it from sliding from my cheek onto his arm. It’s the happiest tear I’ve ever shed, and I’ll never forget it, or this moment.
“I loved you first,” I say, my lips actually shaking with my nerves as I speak.
Mason chuckles lightly at me, smoothing my hair from my face and turning completely on his side so we’re both lying under the stars staring at one another—alone among a dozen strangers. “Okay, but I get to love you more,” he says, cupping my face in both of his hands and pulling my lips to his, his eyes intent on our barely touching lips before flicking back up to look into mine. Then he closes them completely, and kisses me for the rest of the night.