Page 54 of Flame After the Fumble

Shimmying out of Hartley’s forcefield, I join my best friends across the room. “Absolutely not.”

“Sorry I’m late,” Mason gasps as he runs into my nook of the exhibit. “Didn’t think it would take me that long to make it across town.”

“Why is Mason here?” Emberly whispers into my ear and grips my elbow as Hartley meets him halfway to shake his hand. “I didn’t know he was invited.”

Confused about her snippy tone, I wonder why she cares if Mason is here or not. “I’m sorry, chica, I didn’t think it would be a big deal. Hartley invited a lot of the guys.”

“It’s not a big deal.” She shakes her head, ridding her mind of whatever took over moments ago. “Sorry. I’m overreacting. Tonight is supposed to be about you.” She quickly covers her worry with a fake smile, but I don’t want her to be uncomfortable.

“Is there something I’m missing. . .” My voice trails off in question.

“Em,” Mason’s commanding voice runs a shudder through her core as she blinks repeatedly before glancing his way.

“I’ve got to go.” She takes a few steps back before darting to the bathroom.

“I’m coming, too!” I dash behind her as we weave through the crowd to the one-stall restroom.

“What was that?” My worried voice echoes in the empty bathroom as I twist the gold lock behind me, trying to figure out why we just ran away from Mason in the middle of my art exhibit. “And don’t you dare say nothing because that little stunt was far from nothing.” Tapping my foot on the marble floor, I wait not-so-patiently for her to spill the tea.

“Mason and I. . .” She takes a deep breath, and I notice her hands shake at her side as she struggles to get through the story. “Have history.”

I inch closer to her as she grips the granite counter of the sink, not surprised by her admission. It seems like everyone has history around here. “History?”

“Yep, and that’s where it’s staying. In the past.”

“Are you sure about that?” My hand reaches for her back. “History has a way of repeating itself.”

“Ours won’t,” she snaps.

“Okay.” I back off, realizing she’s not ready to talk about it yet. “I’m here when you’re ready to talk about it.”

“Thanks, Liza.” She gives me a forced smile. “I’m sorry for making this about me. Let’s go back and celebrate you and your killer art.”

Nodding my head, we hook arms and meet the rest of the group where we left them. Violet and Hartley argue over whether the clay creation they’re staring at is a dog or a wolf. Willow’s taking selfies with my sketches and posting them to her Instagram story. But what catches my eye is Mason off in a corner, away from the rest, running his hand over his freshly cut hair and flattening his large palms over his Armani suit. Mason's eyes catch mine and I give him a sympathetic smile and a shrug, wishing I knew more to help. Emberly makes no attempt to be in his vicinity, so she shoots off to occupy her time with Willow’s unhinged posting. His eyes trace her every step and pain travels over his hazy irises. His hand flies to his chest as he rubs back and forth across the rich fabric. It dawns on me that their history is bound to become a part of the present sooner or later.

My shoulders sag as I see Mason alone in the corner. I sneak away from the group to see what’s up. “You’ve got it bad, my friend.”

“What?” Mason asks quizzically as he continues to stare googly eyed at Emberly across the room. She’s ignoring him like a pro, her back facing us while her laugh echoes across the room, as she points at different works of art for Willow to pose by.

I shake my head. “You’re love sick.”

“Me?” His eyes scrunch up as his jaw drops open in protest. “Nah.”

Shaking my head at his oblivion, I retort, “I call it like I see it.”

“What do you know?”

“That there’s history between the two of you, and it doesn’t take a genius to see that.”

He scoffs and folds his arms over his chest. “She hates me and wants nothing to do with me anymore.”

I tap my finger on my chin, pretending like I’m mulling his epiphany over. “And Hartley is nothing more than an annoying friend.” I reach up to pat his broad shoulder over the sleek fabric of his expensive pressed suit. “Looks like we both know how to lie to ourselves, huh?”

“And what do you suggest I do?”

“Every girl wants someone to fight for them.” My eyes wander to my boyfriend as he chuckles with Violet. A smile spreads across my face when I catch a glimpse of him. I’m thankful he didn’t stop fighting for me. “Looks like you need to suit up for the battle.”

Nodding off, his eyes wander somewhere else far away from the room we’re in. “We’ll see.”

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