Page 17 of Most Valuable Player
That earns me another eye roll. “You may not believe this,” he says dryly, his face the flattest and most bored it’s been this week, “but my opinion of you is overwhelmingly neutral. Thisbad bloodor whatever that you’ve created between us? It doesn’t exist.”
“You’re right,” I say sharply.
“Oh?”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Oh.”
“I can feel your animosity. It fills the air around us,” I snap, gesturing at the coffee shop.
Mason nods thoughtfully. “That’s a big word, Cameron Morelli. I’m impressed.”
“Fuck y—”
“Aren’t you leaving?” Mason flutters his annoyingly long lashes. “Or are you stalling because you want to spend more time with me?”
I have to swallow a gag. “See you tonight, then,” I say, backtracking to the door, because his playful little statement doesn’t deserve acknowledgment. “From a reasonable distance.”
“I didn’t agree to—”
I’m out the door before he can finish his sentence.
Chapter Five
Mason
“Hey, honey.”
There’s a hand on my shoulder. The sensation sends a panicked jolt through my body, and I hurl upright with a gasp, slapping the wrist away. “Don’t!” I snap.
“It’s just me, Mason.”
Annie’s familiar voice slows my heartbeat. I’m nestled into the love seat in Annie’s Brews, a couch pillow tucked under my beanie. The world beyond the café windows is pitch-black, and the chairs have been upended onto rounded tables. “Did I hold you up?” I ask, grimacing.
“Never.” Annie tugs me to my feet and hands me my backpack as we head to the door. She closes it behind us and twists her key into the lock. Though darkness has cloaked the town, the overhead moon provides just enough light to cast silvery twinkles along Lake Evergreen. Despite the serenity of a calm night in Elwood, my apprehension begins to mount. My eyes flit around, searching the uneven cracks and foliage plaguing the parking lot, scanning the shadows behind looming streetlights.
“Have a good night,” I say quietly, and I start to walk toward the main road, but she catches the crook of my arm.
“What are you doing?” she asks, raising a stern brow. “You don’t have a ride?”
I swallow with apprehension. I don’t normally stick around untilclosing time—I foolishly fell asleep, though, so now I get to deal withquestions. “It’s fine,” I try to say, but she’s already anticipating my response and shaking her head.
“Absolutely not. You’re not walking home alone when it’s this dark.”
Well. I can’t exactly run away, because she’d just confront me the next time I show up at her shop. So I reluctantly follow her to her beat-up vehicle, climbing into the passenger seat.
As I start mindlessly pointing her down the correct streets, I can’t help but reflect. Honestly, I expected I was walking into the most frustrating day of my life. That’s usually how Cameron Morelli leaves me feeling—he’s that overconfident, conceited “I don’t take orders from anyone” type of jock. He whined about everything, sure, but when it came time to get serious, he had, against my expectations, gotten serious.
We’re starting to approach a crossroad where if I tell her to turn right, we’ll end up at my house. If I tell her to turn left…
It’ll take us in the direction of Ravi’s bonfire.
I rub my palms against my tired eyes. Most of me wants to go home. Parties aren’t my forte—my egregious small-talking skills leave me with acquaintances instead of friends, because nobody finds me interesting to be around. But I’ve spent years of my life avoiding social circles and shying away from friendships because I felt…or I waspromised…that I wouldn’t need them. And maybe I don’t. But I can’t help feeling lonely.
I made an oath that I would try to get myself out there. That I would go places I’m invited, talk to people who approach me.
So I say, “Take a left.”
