Page 39 of Most Valuable Player
Mason doesn’t even look like he’s paying attention anymore. He’s staring dazedly at the stars, fumbling with a pale gemstone dangling at his collar.
That slimy prick is reaching out to grab Mason’s face.
“Are youkidding me?”I snarl, storming forward and seizing his shoulder, then wrenching him backward with such force that his heel slides out from under him. He collapses onto the ground with a loud “oof.”
“Hey!” Mason’s garbled voice reaches me, and I swivel on him, my fists balled and my jaw strained with anger. He instantly staggers back and raises his arms, bracing them, as if preparing to shove me away. “What’s your problem, Cameron?”
The people who were in his group are awkwardly backing off to give us space. Even the guy I ripped backward is crawling out of sight, thankfully. I forcibly unclench my hands and relax my face, though irritation is still pulsing through me in overwhelming waves. “What’syourproblem?” I demand. “I thought you weren’t coming tonight. Did you walk here alone?”
“So what? I can do what I want,” he growls, stumbling closer to jam an accusatory finger in my chest. I guess now that I’m not as visibly mad, he’s feeling braver about getting in my face. “I don’t need your permission to do anything.”
He flashes his middle fingers, then twirls around to walk away. The quick movement throws him off-balance, though, and he stumbles, his knees buckling. It all happens with enough lethargy that I have timeto jump out and catch his elbows, coaxing him back to his unsteady feet. “What’s going on?” I ask sternly. I’ve never seen him drink at a party before. If he’s ever at one, he’s usually hugging the shadows, watching people chat from a distance until one of the footballers notices him and drags him into a circle. “You seem off.”
Mason gives me a blank, dead smile, lips pressed firmly together. “Hey, Cameron. What the fuck do you think you know about me?”
He’s trying to provoke me, but it’s not going to work. “Are you okay?” I ask.
Mason’s breath hitches, like my response startled him. Suddenly, his lower lip trembles, and water sparkles in his eyes, threatening to escape down his cheeks. “I could consent,” he rasps.
I stare at him. “Huh?”
“I’m guessing you yanked that guy away because you think I can’t consent to being kissed.” His shoulders break into a tremor. “It’s my fault for drinking, so it’s my fault if someone kisses me. I literally asked for it. You don’t have tosave me.”
He’s still thinking about that? “I don’t care,” I snap. “If someone kisses you while you’re like this, they’re taking advantage of you.”
“Oh, well, excuse the fuck out of me. I didn’t realize I was talking to the god of fucking consent.” He sucks down a few gulps of his beer, which causes my teeth to latch together.
“Have you had any water?” I ask sharply. “Did you eat dinner?”
“Sure,” he says with enough hesitation that I know he’s lying.
“You’ll get sick.”
“Then I better find someone to kiss before that happens,” he says, eyes roving over the beach. Everything he says is throwing me for a loop. I don’t know Mason well, but this…this isn’thim.
I massage my temple, sighing, and say, “I’ll do it.”
Mason blinks lethargically, words seeming to seep into his head. “Really?” he asks, snorting. “Even though I rejected you?”
“At least you know me.”
Mason laughs into his cupped palm. The sight is saddening. I can almost feel the loneliness, the desperation, radiating from him. After several long seconds, during which his laughter sputters away and he merely stands there behind his hand, silent, he lowers it. His eyes are dull and lifeless, and he’s wearing a deadpan smile.
“Then kiss me,” he says.
“After you eat.”
He scrunches his nose. “Huh?”
“You might throw up because you’re drinking on an empty stomach,” I say, placing my hand on his hair and digging my fingers gently into his scalp. He peeks up at my wrist in confusion but doesn’t pull away. “Let’s go to Burger King and get you an Impossible Whopper.”
A glimmer of life returns to his eyes. “You know about their vegetarian options?”
“I’ve been looking up restaurants for when we need food runs,” I say, shrugging. Shouldn’t that be obvious, considering I told him I’d help with his diet and regimen?
Mason looks at me like I just spoke in a dead tongue. A breeze sweeps the beach, disturbing the glassy lake and crackling flames of the firepits. “That’s nice,” he says quietly.
“Yeah. I’m kindhearted as hell.” I dig my fingers deeper into his head and twist, turning him to the weedy hill climbing up to the main road. “Let’s go.”
