Page 40 of Take Me
“Thanks.”I’m not usually a fan, but I gulp nearly half before I notice he’s holding his glass for a toast.“Sorry.”
Mason clinks his glass to mine.“To friendship.”
“To friendship.”Now I feel like a jerk.“Sorry I’m being grumpy.I just—this is weird, right?Is it weird for you?”
“Being forced to share a bed with you?”He pretends to shudder.“Girl cooties are gross.”
I laugh and okay—I can do this.This is Mason, my goofy best friend.So what if he’s built like an underwear model and smells so good I want to take bites from his biceps?I settle for sipping more bubbly.
“This is good.”
“Right?”He squints at the bottle.“They hooked us up with nice stuff.”
“I should probably pace myself.”I set down my glass to stuff a handful of panties in the dresser drawer.There’s a thong in the mix, which I don’t normally wear, but Hazel insisted I shouldn’t show panty lines.Thank God I brought sleep shorts and a big, roomy T-shirt for bedtime.
Mason’s still milling around behind me.If he’s cataloguing my underwear, he at least has the tact not to say so.“Last time I had sparkling wine was at some fancy vet fundraiser Annabelle took me to.”
“Was it good?”
“Not especially.”
“Remember that time freshman year that we stole the cheap-ass bottle of Brut from Wyatt Richardson’s parents’ liquor cabinet?”
Mason groans.“I puked in the blackberry brambles, then fell in it.”He laughs at the memory.“Took me a week to pull all the stickers out of my arms.”
“And I had to hose you off in his backyard.”I have no memory of Mason removing his clothes, but he probably did.“See?That’s why we could never date for real.”
“Because of my poor judgment with booze at sixteen?”
“Because we’ve witnessed each other’s most disgusting moments.”
Mason quirks a brow.“That actually sounds like a reasontodate someone.Your dirty laundry is already out there, familiar and flapping in the breeze.”
“Dirty laundry, huh?As I recall, we rinsed out your puke-stained clothes and hung them out my car windows to dry on our way home the next morning.”It was raining, so suffice it to say, that didn’t work.“We were real geniuses back then.”
Mason laughs and takes another sip of rosé.“I might polish this off and go for a hike.You need a couple hours to get ready?”
Crossing my arms, I glare at him.“In what world would I ever take that long to get ready?”
“I don’t know.”He gestures wildly toward the clothes I’ve hung in the closet.“Annabelle always took hours on her makeup and hair when we went someplace nice.I have no idea how long it takes you to look like you looked when you showed up last night.”
I try to untangle whether that’s a backhanded compliment or an insult.I settle for not really caring.Notappearingto care.With my arms still folded, I stare down my pal.“I can be sexy as fuck in twenty minutes or less.”
Lifting his glass, Mason nods.“In that case,” he says, “let’s take this rosé for a hike.”
Our hike is amazing,a heart-pounding climb to the top of a viewpoint surrounded by evergreens dripping in rainwater diamonds.We’re forced to rush on our way back down the trail, laughing and buzzing with booze as we jockey our way through the rain.
My damp yellow t-shirt clings to my breasts, and twice I catch Mason staring.But his eyes dart away, and I know it’s just what we talked about last night.Before this all started, we’d never noticed each other’s parts.
I’m noticing now as we trudge to our room and Mason peels off his t-shirt.“Mind if I take a quick shower?”
“Go for it.”I should probably do the same.“Save some hot water for me.”
“You want to go first?”He frowns.“The sign in the lobby said it’s solar.We should probably conserve.”
“Are you suggesting we shower together?”I’m totally kidding, but Mason blanches and backs toward the bathroom.
“I’ll—uh—be fast.”He slams the door before I can point out I’m kidding.
