Filed to story: Lily Bennett and Mason Cooper Book
“It’s not cheating if you don’t have a girlfriend.”
“No, just sus.”
He shrugs.
“Wow, so we REALLY shouldn’t be talking,” I say.
“It would drive Oliver insane.”
“I mean, isn’t that a bonus? You’re getting revenge by talking to the guy who beat your ex’s ass last year.”
“The fight was a tie,” I say, defending Olly out of habit.
Mason snorts.
“Oh please! Your whole school hates my guts because he missed three games after I kicked his ass.”
“Okay, maybe you won. And maybe I’m glad now,” I say with a little smile.
I look down at my feet.
“You probably don’t want to hear about all my personal problems,” I mumble.
“Are you kidding? I love hearing how much Oliver messed up,” Mason chuckles.
“And I need a distraction.”
“What do you need a distraction from?” I ask before I can stop myself.
“Life.” He sighs.
I raise an eyebrow. What could that mean?
“You’re Lily, right? The cheerleader?” he asks, changing the subject.
“I am.” Though now I’m thinking about quitting the team when school starts.
“I hate it. I only joined because Leah… Oh god, being on the same team as Leah-I can’t handle that. I’ll want to punch her in the face every chance I get,” I groan, and Mason laughs.
“It’s not funny,” I snap.
“It’s not,” he agrees quickly.
“I’m laughing because I thought you were quiet.”
I purse my lips together and quirk my head to the side.
“I’ve seen you at games before. You never really talked with the others,” he explains.
“Because they all suck!” I exclaim, and he laughs again and agrees.
“How about you? Want to spill some secrets or have a full-on emotional breakdown in front of me to make me feel better?” I ask.
“Maybe next time.” He winks.
“Next time?” My eyebrows shoot up in surprise.
“I have to go. But you can text me if you want to talk,” he says, handing me a black iPhone.
I look at the phone then back at him. Is he serious?
“You’re supposed to put your number in,” he says, and I roll my eyes, punching my number in.
“Thanks for listening,” I whisper as I hand it back to him.
“Anytime, princess.” He smiles sadly, kicking a rock with his sneaker as he walks away.
I’m still watching him go when my phone vibrates. It’s a message from him.
555-465-9987
Hi, it’s me, your naked therapist.
I laugh and save his contact as M. I don’t even want the name Mason Cooper in my phone.
When I get home that night, I kick off my shoes and flop down onto the sofa.
I should probably call Ava. She’s my best friend and I love her, but she’s also so extra and I can’t deal with her right now.
I think about calling my parents, but what’s the point? They won’t answer.
It feels like they’re away on business more than they’re home nowadays.
I guess I fell asleep, because I’m woken up by my phone ringing. The time on the screen says twelve o’clock.
“Hello?” I answer, my voice heavy with sleep.
“Did I wake you?” A male voice comes through.
I pull back my phone to see “M” on the screen.
“Mason?” I ask, sitting up on the sofa.
“Look, I’m sorry. Go back to sleep,” his voice comes out soft yet strained.
“Do you want to come over and eat pizza?” I offer, remembering we have one in the freezer.
There’s a pause, and I check to make sure he hasn’t hung up again.
“What kind?” he finally replies.
“Pepperoni.”
“Text me your address.”
I quickly pull my phone away from my ear and send a text to him.
“I’ll be there soon, princess,” he says almost immediately after I hit send.
“See you soon,” I whisper as I throw the frozen pizza in the oven.
Holy shit. What the hell am I doing? Why am I inviting Mason Cooper over to my house? If Harry or anyone from school finds out, my life will be made a living hell.
My internal freak-out doesn’t last long as Mason texts to say he’s outside.
I open the front door and find him standing on my porch dressed in a black hoodie and basketball shorts.
He pushes back the hood and his curls fall onto his forehead, above his electric green eyes.
How is he making the most casual outfit possible look so hot?
“That was fast,” I say faintly.
“I live two streets over.” He half-smiles as I open the door wider for him to come inside.
“Sooo…” I draw out as we sit next to each other at the counter, the pepperoni pizza between us.
“You feeling any better?” he asks, grabbing a slice.
“Yeah,” I answer honestly. Crying and sleep seemed to help.
“I’m more angry than sad now,” I add, taking a bite of my slice.
“You seemed pretty mad before.” He smiles down at me.
He has a nice smile, but it doesn’t reach his beautiful eyes.
“You seemed…sad,” I say.
“Is there something you want to talk about?”