Fallen Crest High(33)

He grimaced. "I'm nice. I am, but I'm not being that nice to Becky."

"No, you're not."

"She's the only person that you talk to. I didn't know how else to approach you without looking like a complete loser."

I rolled my eyes, but couldn't shake the slight smile. "Try not going through the friend that likes you next time."

"Next time?" His hand caught my car door and held it open.

I looked at it, saw he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon, and stared him straight in the eyes. "What do you want, Adam Quinn?"

His eyes widened an inch, but he didn't miss a beat. "Dinner. Just dinner."

"And if I don't want dinner? If I want to bail? If I bring Becky with?"

His smile looked painful. "Then I think you're not being a good friend either."

"Maybe." I got inside and shut the car, but I rolled the window down. "Or maybe I don't believe in friends anymore."

He leaned down. "For what it's worth, Becky's the best friend you could get.

Those other two were jokes."

I gave him a small wave and started home, but I muttered under my breath,

"You don't say."

When I pulled into the driveway, I had to key in the code for the gate. It wasn't usually closed, but I figured the party was still in full gear. After I made sure my car was in the garage and the front gate had been closed again, I headed inside and towards the kitchen.

A peak of sunlight was starting outside and I saw it was five in the morning.

When I'd gone to all-night parties with Jessica and Lydia it was a tradition to go for breakfast in the morning and on cue, my stomach rumbled. However, as I opened the fridge, the bright light filled the room and I screamed.

Mason stood behind me, leaning against the kitchen counter with one foot crossed idly over the other. He looked relaxed and carefree, but everything in me went on alert. The hairs on the back of my neck stood straight up and I knew he was anything besides relaxed.

When he didn't say anything, my insides clenched even further. So this is how we were going to be? Fine. I reached inside and pulled out some slices of meat.

I was determined to ignore him or, at least, not let him bother me anymore than he already had. My stomach wanted a sandwich and I wasn't leaving the kitchen until I got one.

An arm reached around me and I jumped. My heart doubled in pace and I bumped against his chest as Mason reached for the water pitcher. He caught me from moving back into him with one hand on my arm. I held my breath as he held me in place. When his arm moved clear of me, I sagged in relief. Then my fingers deftly plucked out the tomatoes and a head of lettuce.

When I pulled out a cutting board and a knife to start on the lettuce, Mason placed a glass of water into my hands.

I stood there, dumbfounded, as he nudged me over with his hip. Then he picked up the knife and I watched in almost sick fascination as he started to cut the lettuce and tomatoes. A moment later, he pulled out cheese and arranged all of them with the meat between two slices of bread.

He put the sandwich on a plate and pushed it into my other hand.

I stood there, water in my left and the sandwich in my right. My mouth was open. I knew I needed to close it, but I couldn't.

He reached into a corner cabinet and pulled out some rum. After he mixed himself a drink, he sat at the kitchen table and kicked out a chair for me. I sat, but I didn't remember doing it.

He leaned back and sipped his drink. It was early in the morning so the sunrise peaked into the room more. The bass from the music was muffled through the windows and then the air conditioner kicked in. We could barely hear the party still going strong outside.