Page 113 of Summer Lessons
“Where in the kitchen am I looking?” he asked. “In case my head is throbbing and I’m blind with pain?”
“The counter, Mason. It’s not going to test you too badly.”
Oh thank God.
“If you killed a bug and left it for me, I’m disowning you.”
“Promises, promises. Go drink some water and come back when you’re human.”
There might have been some more banter, but Mason missed it in his desire to get out of the heat and redose himself.
But when he saw the thing on the counter, the headache, the heat, the tiredness—it all went away.
Flowers.
There was a vase—new—full of flowers on his counter, with a six-pack of sparkling cider next to it.
And a card.
You sounded a little loopy last night. I figured this might help if you wanted to keep a clear head next time we talked. Call you tomorrow—promise.
The flowers were standard grocery-store daisies and carnations—he’d apparently bought a bunch of each and then mixed them up in the vase.
Mason didn’t care. They were flowers, and they were beautiful, and they were for him.
He’d never drink champagne again in his life. Not if flowers and sparkling apple cider made him as high as he felt right now.
TERRY CALLEDMonday night, and they talked for hours. He asked if he could bring lunch, and Mason had to tell him that he was in lunch meetings all week.
“Yeah, suddenly I’m Mr. Popular. It won’t last. We can do lunch next week. If, uhm, you’re still available.”
“I’m planning on it,” Terry said, and Mason wished they were having this conversation face-to-face so he could see how Terry meant that. “But this week is sort of crazy. A lot of our vendors got new machines, and everybody is working twelve-hour days to get stuff installed. It should all die down by Saturday, though. Uh….”
“Yeah?”
“You’re going to be there this Saturday, right?”
Mason had double-checked with Mrs. Bradford. “Unless something dire happens. Like a hurricane or an inferno or a massive hippopotamus migration, yes.”
“So, uh… do you want to see a movie Saturday night?”
“Pixar?” Mason prayed.
“Oh my God yes! Like, Porter, when we went out, wanted to see one of those inspirational movies? I almost cried when I realized I was gonna have to sit through that.”
“So it’s a date,” Mason said, trying not to jump up and down on the bed.
“It’s a sleepover,” Terry said grimly. “And a talk some more. And I’ll pay for the movie if you pay dinner. And we can flip for donuts and coffee.”
Ohhh… Mason liked this.
Masonlovedthis. “That’s definitely a date,” he said. He hadn’t been this excited since he was twelve years old and found the two bikes in the garage the day before Christmas.
Except this was better, because Dane wasn’t getting the red one Mason wanted, and there wassexinvolved.
“You sound very determined,” he said, feeling warmth seeping back in what used to be the hole in his chest.
“Look, Mason, I know grown-ups are supposed to be patient and all? But I had the perfect boyfriend in my life since January, even if I didn’t know what that was. Now that I’ve got it figured out, I’m not fucking around. I want you back. I want sexy Saturdays and sleeping in Sundays and something, even if it’s just a phone call or a text, all of the other days. I may have been clueless, but I ain’t stupid. Now that I’ve caught a clue, you need to speak up now or get used to us being us again, but better.”
