Page 66 of Saving the Rockstar

I felt my jaw drop, my eyes bulging out of my head as I watched my two best friends make out like a couple of horny teenagers, their bodies pressed close together.

The creep walked away. Beside me, Jared let out a low whistle, his eyes sparkling with amusement and perhaps even a hint of pride.

"Well, damn," he murmured, his lips twitching with a barely suppressed grin. "Looks like Mase has been holding out on us. Who knew he had it in him?"

I could only nod, my mind reeling with the implications of what I was seeing. I watched them break apart, their chests heaving and their lips swollen and bruised. I wondered if perhaps this moment had been a long time coming, an inevitable conclusion to a dance that had been building between them for weeks.

Dylan, for his part, looked like he had been hit by a truck, his eyes glazed and his cheeks flushed a deep, rosy red. He swayed on his feet, his hands still fisted in the front of Mason's shirt as he stared up at him with a kind of dazed wonder, like he couldn't quite believe what had just happened.

Mason, on the other hand, looked as cool and collected as ever, his lips curled in a small, satisfied smirk as he ran his fingers through his mussed hair, his other hand still resting possessively on the small of Dylan's back.

"You alright there, Dyl?" he asked, his voice low and teasing. "You look a little flushed. Was it something I said?"

Dylan blinked, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water as he struggled to find his words.

"You... we..." he stammered, his voice hoarse and shaky. "What the hell was that, Mase?"

Mason shrugged, his eyes glinting with a kind of wicked amusement. "Just selling the story," he said, his voice casual and unaffected. "Figured the best way to get that creep off your back was to make him think you were taken. And what better way to do that than with a little PDA?"

Jared raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching with a barely suppressed grin. "A little PDA?" he repeated, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Mase, you had your tongue down his throat. That's not a little anything."

Mason had the grace to look a little sheepish, his cheeks flushing a delicate shade of pink as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"Yeah, well," he mumbled, his eyes darting away from mine. "Heat of the moment, and all that. Got a little carried away, I guess."

Dylan, who had finally seemed to recover his powers of speech, let out a squawk of indignation, his hands flying up to gesture wildly in the air.

"A little carried away?" he sputtered. "Mason, you kissed me. Like, full-on, tonsil-hockey, romance movie poster kissed me. In front of everyone."

Mason rolled his eyes, his arms crossing over his chest in a defensive posture.

"Oh, please," he scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain. "Like you weren't enjoying it. I felt the way you melted into me, Dyl. The way your body responded to mine. You can't fake that kind of chemistry."

Dylan's mouth fell open, his eyes bulging out of his head as he stared at Mason in a mixture of outrage and disbelief.

"I did not melt into you!" he cried, his voice shrill and indignant. "I was caught off guard, that's all. It was a reflex, a natural response to being accosted by your freakishly large mouth."

Mason smirked, his eyes glinting with a kind of smug satisfaction. "Keep telling yourself that," he drawled, his voice low and teasing. "But we both know the truth. You want me. You're just too chickenshit to admit it."

Dylan let out a sound that was halfway between a gasp and a squeak, his face turning an alarming shade of purple as he sputtered and stammered, his words tripping over themselves in his haste to deny Mason's accusations.

"You are so full of shit, Mason," he finally managed to choke out, his finger jabbing into Mason's chest with each word. "I would rather make out with a cactus than ever let your lips anywhere near mine again, you insufferable, arrogant, overgrown man-child!"

Mason's grin only widened, his head tilting to the side as he studied Dylan with a kind of lazy interest.

"Is that so?" he purred, his voice dropping to a low, seductive rumble. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're about two seconds away from jumping my bones. Your pupils are blown, your cheeks are flushed, and your breathing is so shallow, I'm surprised you haven't passed out yet. Face it, babe. You're hot for me, and we both know it."

I could practically see the steam coming out of Dylan's ears, his hands clenching into fists at his sides as he glared up at Mason with a kind of impotent fury.

"God, I can't even look at you right now," he finally spat, his voice shaking with barely suppressed rage. "I'm going to get a drink. A strong one. And when I come back, you had better be gone, or so help me god, I will not be held responsible for my actions."

And with that, he spun on his heel and stalked off towards the bar, his shoulders rigid with tension and his steps heavy with anger.

Mason watched him go, his eyes lingering on the sway of Dylan's hips and the curve of his ass with a kind of appreciative hunger. "Damn," he murmured, his voice low and rough. "That man is going to be the death of me, I swear."

Beside me, Jared let out a soft chuckle, his hand coming up to rest on my shoulder in a gesture of amused sympathy.

"Back to square one, huh?" he said, his voice wry and knowing. "Those two are gonna dance around each other forever at this rate."

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