Page 59 of Most Valuable Player
The man’s eyes plunge through mine with unnerving intensity, like he’s trying to tear into my skull. “I’ve distracted you enough, Mason. Please consider thinking over everything I’ve said.”
He walks around the counter, boots clicking fancily against the tiles. The moment Mason is outside of his reach, I hear myself exhale.
Then there’s a hand on my shoulder, so powerful that it nearly buckles my knees. His touch saps the color from my skin as he bends down a couple of inches to look directly into my eyes, his own flickering with measured resentment, that smile still arching into his face.
“Pleasure to meet you, Cameron,” he says, softly enough that only I can hear him. His breath is as cold and minty as his eyes.
He straightens up, fingertips needling into my skin beneath my jacket, before wandering off. He pauses when he’s a foot from the exit.
“Mason? One more thing.”
Mason’s staring at the countertop like he fell asleep.
“There’s a banquet coming up to celebrate my graduation and promotion,” the man says, straightening his jacket’s lapels. “Your mother RSVP’d for the three of you. If not before, I look forward to seeing you then.”
He walks out of the gallery, the bell chiming.
I want to vomit. Whowasthat? I feel like tendrils of invisible ice have snaked along the building walls, plunging this place into an arctic void. My palm trembles around the cup from Annie’s Brews—I’m clenching it so hard the lid popped off. A trail of coffee has poured over my fingers, but I can hardly feel the burn under the lingering sear of frost.
“Why are you here?” Mason asks.
It takes me a moment to remember why I drove all over town this morning. I hobble closer despite the weakness in my legs and place the coffee near his hand. “Your mom said you were at Annie’s,” I say awkwardly. “I couldn’t find you so I decided to try here. I grabbed you a cinnamon-twist latte.”
Mason blinks slow and careful, staring at the cup. “Why?” he whispers.
“I was already there, so I figured—”
“Why are you here?” Mason’s eyes shift to mine, swallowing any brightness around them.
I pluck the aquamarine out of my pocket. “You left your necklace at my place.”
He gazes at the gemstone without comment.
I skirt around the edge of the counter and hold out the clasp. “Turn around and I’ll put it on,” I say. “I’m an expert necklace hooker. My mom sucks at finding the loop, so…”
My sentence sputters off. Mason has turned and bared the back of his neck silently. Sighing, I drape it around his front, and as I start hooking the necklace, Mason’s shoulders shift down, almost imperceptibly.
“Mason,” I say.
No response.
“Water boy.”
His head quirks.
“You don’t have to wear this,” I tell him.
“I do,” he mumbles.
“Why?”
“It was an expensive gift and I need to be grateful.”
The sentiment makes me scoff, and I pull the necklace away, dumping it in a pile on the cashier counter. “The point of a gift is that you don’t owe someone for it, right?” I twirl him at the shoulders so he’s facing me.
“He got me my birthstone because he knew I’d be happy,” Mason says quietly. “I can’t be unappreciative, or…”
His voice trails off, like he doesn’t have the strength to finish his sentence.
