Page 61 of Summer Lessons
And like that, Mason had the entire team’s attention.
Before they broke up for the afternoon, Skip agreed to get everybody’s money, and Mason agreed to ask HR for dates and times, as well as details on how many tickets they’d need to get the discount. Mason and Dane had gone to Giants games and 49ers games all their lives. He’d never seen people get so excited about third-division soccer—but then, he’d never been this excited about a Giants game either.
But the group broke up—cold and ready for some hot chocolate—and Dane went off with Carpenter to apparently spend the day with those twocharminglittle assholes who had whined for their Nintendos during the entire second half. Mason anxiously watched him get into Carpenter’s Ford SUV.
Dane looked in his element, spouting nonsense and teasing the kids with almost every word.
He lookedcontent, and Mason caught his eye and nodded fiercely. Dane patted his pocket—where his night dose of meds sat—and Mason nodded again, this time in acceptance.
Dane was an adult, and this was the best he could do.
“So,” Terry said as he slowly walked Mason to the Lexus. “You want I should stop for food on my way?”
Mm—food would be good. Just sitting in the cold and watching had given Mason a massive appetite. “Yeah—and I’ll make us some hot chocolate. It’ll be ready by the time you get there.”
Terry nodded, looking pensive. “Will you tell me what’s wrong then?” he asked plaintively.
Mason blew out a breath. “It’s nothing you can fix,” he said honestly. “Like I said, this morning just… just sucked.”
Those squirrel-bright eyes grew sharp and canny. “How bad? I mean, I like your brother, but how bad does it get without them?”
Mason shuddered. “He’s a real butt-hurt asshole,” he muttered. “I’ve got no other words. But… but you know.Dane.”
“Yeah. So worth it to see the good guy in him, right?”
“Yeah.” He opened his car door as the keyless entry beeped welcome. “And he’s going to have a good day.”
Hopefully, so was Mason.
TERRY RANin with sandwiches and a duffel bag before the water and milk had even started to heat. He excused himself to shower while Mason finished up and microwaved some soup. They ate lunch and drank hot chocolate while watching the game Dane had taped, and while they didn’t know either of the teams (Terry wasn’t sure if he’d even heard of thecountry), they chose their good guys and their bad guys and watched the play.
Terry seemed to be in awe.
“Okay, I see it now. I mean, Isee it. Skipper is always telling me to play my position, and I never got what that meant. Did you see what happened there? He was in the perfect place, and he passed it, and the forward took it in! Oh my God—it’s like… I can’t eventellyou how much this makes clear. And wow—lookit these guys with the ball. I mean, you said I was good, but these guys—they’re so damned fast. This is amazing—oh look! He’s got it! He’s going in! Go, go, go, go, run, you little bastard, run—goal! Goal! Goal!”
Terry leapt off the couch, hands overhead, shouting and jumping, and Mason leaned back against the couch and laughed.
Play resumed and Terry collapsed next to him, laughing as well and holding his stomach. “Man, that’s fun. None of my work guys watch sports—I didn’t realize how awesome it was just to do that!”
Mason bit his lip, feeling like a sham. “I’m not really a sports guy,” he confessed. “I’ve gone to live games because that’s, like, an event. You eat garlic fries, and you cheer with the team and try to catch T-shirts. But I didn’t get how much fun it was.” Terry’s eyes were resting on his face, his mouth parted softly. His cheeks were flushed and his hair fell softly down one cheek, almost dry from the shower. “Until now,” Mason whispered.
“You get it now?” Terry asked, eyes crinkling.
“Yeah.”
Terry moved forward a little. “How’s your ankle?”
“Better?”
Laugh. “That’s a lie,” he acknowledged.
Mason would have shrugged if he wasn’t half lying down. “It’s better than Thursday,” he said truthfully.
Terry’s smile crinkled with mischief at the corners. “Is it good enough to prop up on a pillow while I ride you like a show pony?”
Mason laughed, feeling giddy. “I can’t be a stallion?” he asked a little plaintively, pulling Terry across the couch while he lay down flat.
Terry placed a little kiss on the corner of his mouth. “Stallions are assholes,” he muttered before tracing the seam of Mason’s lips with his tongue. “I finally got a guy who wants to show me that slow is a thing.”
