Page 17 of Between Regrets and Promises

Inhaling a defeated breath, I slump my shoulders as I release the tension. “I’ve always been good with my hands. Calculated and precise. It’s why I started playing the violin. Once I got to college, it was the only thing I could participate in because I’m not an athlete, or a singer, or math wiz. So I’d meet with friends at the pubs, and we’d play pool. Surprisingly, I got good at it.” I shrug. “Once Lennon was allowed in the bars, she’d play with me, and I’d demolish her—not that it was a true hardship—she sucks.”

Mason’s face splits into a wide smile, and I hate that I love it so much. “You certainly gave Liam a run for his money.”

“Eh, I’m not convinced he didn’t let me win. He’s also pretty drunk.”

“Don’t be so modest. But maybe you should ask him for a rematch when you’re both sober.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

Are we having an actual conversation?

We’re silent for a beat, but if I don’t go back to Lennon, she’s going to come looking for me. I keep focused on my feet and contemplate how to wrap this up. Friends or not, this is still awkward when I continuously replay our moment together in my mind.

“Well, for whatever it’s worth…” Mason’s words bring my gaze back to his. “I hope we can be real friends someday. It’d be a shame if you hated me forever when we obviously havegreatconversation.”

Snorting at his emphasis, I nod. “Looked like you were about to murder Liam in there. You sure you can dojust friends?”

He groans. “Liam was pushing my buttons on purpose. And I didn’t even tell him. He just figured it out. He’s an asshole like that.”

“Weirdest friendship I’ve ever heard.”

He grunts. “Try being his roommate.”

“Pass.” I chuckle, admiring the way his jeans hug his thighs.

Fuck my life.

I need to stop checking him out.

Stop looking at Mason as anything more because he’s made it clear there won’t bemore. If only my heart would get the memo, though, and stop reminiscing about every part of my body he burned with his touch.

Exhaling a deep breath, I let him know the terms of thisjust friendsarrangement. “This doesn’t mean I’m not still pissed at you. I won’t tell Lennon, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she figures it out too,” I tell him matter-of-factly before adding, “And we’re not exchanging friendship bracelets anytime soon.” I put my foot down to let him know I’m not giving him the upper hand.

“No? Friendship anklets, maybe?” He raises his brows with a boyish grin. Damn him.

“You’re a moron, Mason Holt.”

“So I’ve heard.” He smirks.

My shoulders rise and fall, accepting that this is it. “You did warn me, so I should’ve taken your word for it. You’re definitely no saint.”

He tilts his head, the remorse obvious in his expression. “I wish I could be—for you. But I’m a good friend. Just ask my dickhead roommate.” He nods toward the kitchen where Liam’s being loud and rowdy.

I snort, shaking my head at him. “We’ll see about that.”

CHAPTER THREE

MASON

TWO YEARS EARLIER

With my firstyear of grad school complete, I’m ready to party my ass off this summer. Only two more semesters until I’m done, which can’t come soon enough. My internship ended on Wednesday, and now I have to figure out what the hell I’m gonna do next.

It’s only been two days, but I’ve been taking time to relax and refresh before moving on to the next thing. I’ve been going nonstop since graduating college, so taking time off to recoup is needed, but it’ll be short-lived. Gaining more experience is my number one priority, but I don’t have any prospective jobs lined up—not even a temporary one. I recently submitted applications for six- and twelve-month internships, but I haven’t heard anything back.

I check the time and realize I need to leave now if I’m going to be on time for lunch. My father doesn’t tolerate tardiness from anyone, especially not his own son. While I hate the country club and everything it stands for, he insisted I meet him there to eat. Probably so he could brag and rub elbows with allthe politicians and elected officials. It’s disgusting how fake they are to each other, considering they’d climb the backs of their colleagues to get to the top. Nothing like a fifty dollar plate of shitty shrimp and booze to make a person feel elite.

While I drive across town, I think about my dad. I haven’t seen him in a few months, using school and work as an excuse. Now that those two things have ended, he knew I couldn’t say no although I wanted to.

---