Page 13 of Butterfly

He released me, taking a step back. Suddenly I felt cold all over, and completely confused. My body ached, my thighs trembling, and I… I desperately needed to come.

I hated myself for it.

“Fly off then, butterfly. Go on, I won’t chase you.” His final words were a dark, terrifying promise. “This time.”

I fled.

For the restof the night, I tossed and turned, dreams filled with the disturbing heat of Mason’s hands all over me. Appalled at myself—not only was he an asshole, not only did I have Spencer, but he was mystepbrother—I never fell back asleep, just paced my room and tried to decide what to do. Mason was problematic, but I couldn’t lay all the blame on him. Because on some deep, dark, fucked up level, I clearly wanted him.

Holy. Fucking. Hell.

The next morning, he was being obscenely nice—for him. I tiptoed down the stairs to the kitchen, hoping I’d miss him—only to hear the noise coming from the pool.

Great. All of his seven million friends were here. And probably Tiffanie. Andthat,my friends, was jealousy I felt, damn it.

He was mystepbrother.I was going to hell.

The sliding door to the pool opened and Mason was there. I did my best to ignore the way water dripped down his chest, pooling at his abs. One droplet continued to slide down to his treasure trail.

Obviously, I’d failed.

He didn’t call me out for my ogling, though. Just moved toward the fridge, opening the door and grabbing a bottle of water. He uncapped it, chugging it down, and I once again tried and failed to ignore the way his throat worked, Adam’s apple bobbing as he drank.

Finally, he wiped his mouth. “Come outside,” he said, voice gruff.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Leslie. Come outside.”

So, maybe not nice. But more welcoming than he had been before.

After going back upstairs and changing into a bikini, I grabbed a towel and headed outside, hesitantly picking my way through the drunk, laughing, gyrating bodies to a lounger and laying out on it. I waited, chest tight, for Mason to do something fucked up and prove to me I’d been wrong to trust him, but he and his friends just splashed around in the pool. Exhausted from the stress of the past weeks, I ended up catnapping on the lounger, waking up intermittently when I felt his glare from across the pool.

They were at least keeping it down today, enough so that I could put in my airpods and drown them out with the soundtrack to Mulan. I loved Disney movies, something I knew Mason would mock me for if he knew—not that I gave a shit.

Half asleep and lost in a dream of tender, featherlight touches on my hips and neck, I was startled when I heard, “Hey, Leslie, why don’t you join us in the pool?”

I opened one eye, pausing the music. Emory was standing above me, grinning. Mason stood in the pool, while Tiffanie hung off his back and smiled at me. I wanted to say no, to close my eyes and ignore them, but I heard my mom in my head:Give him a chance. Try to make friends, hon. Do it for me.

Hewastrying, after all.

So, sighing, I rose off the lounger.

And my bikini slid right off my body, leaving me completely naked in front of a bunch of strangers and my douchebag stepbrother.

Laughter rang out around me. People lifted up their phones, taking photos of me, stark naked and glaring. The only person who didn’t laugh was Mason—he looked like he wanted to kill me, instead.

I didn’t know why he was so angry, when humiliating me had clearly been his idea.

I shut my eyes, willing the tears away. Yes, I was naked. Yes, it was likely my naked self was going to end up all over the internet and likely destroy my reputation.

I’d had enough.

“You win,” I called to him. “I’m the idiot who fell for our ‘truce,’ but you win. You can have your house back. I’m getting out of here today.”

With that, I turned and headed inside, naked, head held high, trying to ignore the splash, high pitched yelp, and pounding footsteps behind me.

Mason caught me around the waist just before I could slip inside the house. I fought him as he dragged me into the kitchen, and continued fighting him when he grabbed his zip-up hoodie from off the back of the chair and forced my arms through it before zipping it up all the way to my neck. It dwarfed me, falling down to my knees. I glared up at him, refusing to be grateful for no longer being naked, refusing to cry.

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