Page 14 of Crazy Obsession
Mason takes me to alittle Italian place right on the edge of town, and it’s all soft lights and red-checkered tablecloths.It’s nice and comfortable and perfect for a first date.He holds the door open, pulls out my chair, and orders wine without asking if I want any.
And he talks.A lot.About the store, about lumber shipments, about his niece’s school play.It’s ...fine.Easy enough to nod along, to sip at my wine, and make polite noises at the right times.
But while his voice drones, my mind betrays me.It wanders back to a different voice—low, rough, threaded with humor and heat.
“Come on, Lennie.You’re not fooling me.”
I clench my glass tighter.Mason’s lips are moving, but all I can see are Adam’s—bruising, hungry, the way they moved against mine like I was oxygen.My chest constricts and for a moment I feel like I can’t fucking breathe.
But I shove the memory down and force myself to smile at Mason.“Sounds like business is good.”
He beams, clearly pleased with my fake interest.“It’s the best it’s ever been.I’m actually thinking of expanding.Maybe opening a second location closer to the city.”
“That’s impressive.”My voice sounds off but he looks happy enough with my reply.
He leans forward and his hand brushes against mine on the table.“You deserve impressive, Lenor.”
The words should make me melt.They should make me feel chosen, wanted, and cherished.Instead, all I feel is pressure.Because Mason’s eyes are kind and his touch is gentle, but my skin doesn’t burn under his fingertips.My pulse doesn’t skip a beat.My breath doesn’t catch.
It is just ...boring.Just like everything else about him.Safe.Predictable.Normal.And utterly, soul-numbingly fucking boring.
When his hand lingers, when his thumb strokes across my knuckles, all I can think is, this should be enough.Why isn’t it enough?
Halfway through dinner, I excuse myself to the bathroom, needing air.Needing to be away from the constant drone of his extremely even-toned voice.I grip the sink, staring at my reflection in the mirror.My cheeks are flushed, my hair falling loose around my face, and my eyes wide with panic.
Why does Adam Blake live in my head like this?Why can’t I let go of one night?Because it wasn’t one night.Not really.And honestly, I knew it the moment I said those godforsaken words before walking out on him.
It was a line I crossed, a truth I tasted, and no matter how much I want to deny it, I can’t.Adam isn’t safe.He isn’t steady.He isn’t predictable.But when he kissed me, I felt alive.
And with Mason, I just feel tired.
I take a deep breath, straighten my dress, and head back to the table, determined to finish the night with dignity.
Mason smiles when I return, standing as I sit, his hand brushing the back of my chair.“Is everything okay?”
“I’m fine,” I lie.
He nods, launching into another story about his uncle’s boat.I sip my wine and force myself to stay present, but the truth is written in every beat of my heart.It’s not Mason I’m thinking about, and it never will be.Adam fucking Blake is the only thing running through my mind.On a damn repeat loop.
After dinner, Mason walks me to my car like the gentleman everyone says he is, the night warm and thick with summer air.Crickets chirp in the grass, the moon hanging low and bright.It should feel romantic.But it doesn’t.
When he leans in, his lips brushing mine in a soft, careful kiss, I let him.I stand still, My arms limp at my sides, letting him press sweetness against me.And I feel nothing.Not a single, fucking thing.No spark.No fire.No storm.Just emptiness.
I pull back first, plastering on a smile.“Thanks for dinner, Mason.It was nice.”
His brow furrows, like he hears the hollowness in my voice.But he doesn’t push.He just nods, polite as ever.“I would love to do this again, Lenor.”
I don’t say anything as I slip into my car, shut the door, and grip the wheel tight enough to hurt.Because the truth I don’t want to face is screaming in my chest.
Safe isn’t enough.Steady isn’t enough.Mason isn’t enough.Not when Adam Blake already ruined me for anyone else.
When I get home, I shower and have a cup of tea, sitting on the couch in my fluffy green robe.When I climb into bed and bury myself under the covers, I pray for sleep.But all I see when I close my eyes are Adam’s storm-dark eyes, his cocky grin softening into something real, his voice whispering like a vow—“It’s not one night.”
And I know, no matter how hard I fight it, he’s right.I’m already his.Even if I’ll never admit it out loud or even to my damn self.
I am so very, very fucked.
