Page 102 of Drown Like Heaven
“These are toaster waffles, baby. I’d hardly count that asmakingsomething.” He held out a fork and I took it hesitantly, then he gave me an unopened bottle of syrup. I peeled the little plastic seal off, then poured some on the stack of blueberry waffles Mason had put on a plate for me.Did he buy all this just for me?
“I went back to that diner,” I told him. It felt weird to have somebody make food for me like this. “I just got coffee, though.”
“I wish I’d been there. I would’ve gotten you some more waffles.”
“Then fuck me in the back of your car?”
“Or bring you back here.” Mason reached forward to tuck a lock of hair behind my ear. “Keep you here forever.”
I rolled my eyes, cutting another big bite of waffle for myself. “No. You’re a stranger to me.”
“Ask me questions, then,” he prompted, laying on his side, watching me eat while I wore his shirt. His apartment was on the sixth floor, which wasn’t too tall, but the windows here were a lot higher than the ones in my bedroom, which I liked. I could see other tall buildings, all their little glowing windows, the red blinking lights on top of things in the distance, the deep purple sky, smudged with clouds.
“What’s your first real memory?” I asked.
“Not that question.”
I crossed my arms, glaring at him. “Yes, that one.”
He looked off to the side for a moment while he thought. “It’s not a good memory,” he started.
“I don’t mind.”
“Dakota—I can’t answer this question. Not if you want me to be honest.” His brown eyes slid back to meet mine, their darkness pulling me in.I want to know. You can trust me with this.He could probably see my thoughts on my face, because he shook his head again.
“Okay,” I relented, my chest aching for whatever it was he couldn’t talk about. “What’s your favorite holiday?”
“Uhhh.” He trailed off. “When’s your birthday? December?”
I smacked his shoulder. “Stop. Not every answer can be about me. But yes, it’s December eighth, since you’re curious.”
“My favorite holiday is Christmas, then. Yours?”
“Also Christmas.” It was the only time my childhood ever felt special in any capacity, because we had aChristmas tree.It was just a fake tabletop one, quite sparse as Christmas trees went, but I loved the multicolored lights on it, loved staring at it glowing in the night.
“Why’s that? Presents?”
“My childhood was not the type to be full ofpresents, unfortunately. But I like the snow, and the lights on the tree.” I stabbed another piece of waffle with my fork, then shoved it in my mouth, feeling too vulnerable now.
“White lights or the colorful ones?”
“Colorful.” I swallowed my bite, then pushed the plate away, towards Mason, laying flat on my back and staring at his ceiling.
“I like that.”
He took the plate out of the room, then came back a few minutes later and turned off the lamp on his nightstand, darkness enveloping the room. I snuggled under his comforter, ignoring the fact that my phone would definitely run out of battery overnight—but then Mason plugged it in, without even asking me. My eyes followed him back to the bed, before I hid my face in the pillow.
“Thank you,” I said, my voice muffled.
“Come here,” he mumbled, looping his arms around my waist and yanking me onto his side of the bed, pulling me against his warm body. A secret smile pushed at the corners of my mouth and I let myself relax into him, a bit scared of how attached I was starting to feel. He was destructive and unstable and a million other bad things.
But so was I.
And he didn’t seem to be bothered by that. He didn’t shy away from my brokenness. So maybe I could touch his for a little while longer.
?????
I rolled my head to the side, the pillow soft on my face, my mind still hazy from sleep. It took me a second to realize where I was, why I was naked and surrounded by black sheets. But the soreness between my legs made it easy to remember. We’d had sex again in the night, and the shirt Mason lent me was now covered in cum and laying somewhere on the ground.
