Louder Than Words (Fall For Me) (13 page)

CHAPTER 37

I spent two whole grueling long
months in Connecticut, dying at an all-girl school. But when I started dating
this biker guy that worked at the gas station near my aunt’s house, my mom
exploded and made me move back home. Ha! That was my plan all along. I didn’t
even like the guy. I just knew my mom would have a heart attack when she heard
about his tattoos and that he rode a motorcycle.

Actually, I had been terrified of
the guy—and I’d made it absolutely clear when I agreed to go on a date
with him that I was just using him to scare my aunt and mom. He didn’t seem to
mind. He was pretty amused by it, actually. And put on a good show for my aunt,
kissing me (!!) in front of her and showing her all of his piercings and
tattoos.

So, I found myself living back at
home less than two months after leaving. The sad, pathetic thing was
though—I was still licking my wounds about Mason. The boy was under my
skin.

After being home for almost two
weeks, I got a call from Mason’s dad’s sister (Mason’s aunt). She and her two
little girls were living with Mason and his dad for a while because she was
going through a divorce. Her name was Sherry and she was really, really nice
(though a little crazy). I’d gotten to know her pretty well the year Mason’s
dad was married to my mom, and I’d baby-sat her daughters a few times.

That’s what she was calling about
now. She needed me to baby-sit for the weekend.

I sighed, but agreed to do it. Her
daughters are sweet and I hadn’t seen them in over a year.

So, that was my huge plan for the
weekend … baby-sitting.

***

“Ack!” I woke in a panic, springing
up from the bed, waving my arms around like a maniac. Somehow I thought I was
swatting at a bee—an enormous fuzzy one buzzing around my lips.

But …

That was so not the case.

Fully awake now, I swung even
harder. “Mason! Geez, I thought you were a bee!”

Surprised by my attack, Mason
looked up at me from where he’d taken refuge, sprawled on the floor, his eyes
dancing with amusement.

“Sorry,” he murmured, his lips
quirking into this adorable teasing grin he has—obviously not sorry in
the slightest. Still, he murmured it again with a chuckle, “Sorry.”

I tried to get my pulse under
control, but it was kind of hard ‘cause I was just as unnerved discovering it
wasn’t a bee on my lips, but Mason.

Mason had almost kissed me (!!!)…
sort
of. Of his own freewill. (No wagers or experimenting or
fake-outs or anything.)
Just him seeing an opportunity and
going for it—kissing me.
The thought had my heart pumping all wild
and spazzy. Only well, I knew he was only doing it as a joke. Like for fun, not
for love. Or romance. Or temptation.
Or well, anything but a
joke.

Still, I shoved the hair out of my
face, suddenly as awake as if he’d thrown
a bucket of ice
water on me rather than his amazingly soft, pink lips
.

I gasped, “What are you doing
here?”

His brow rose. “What am
I
doing here?” He raised his brow even
further. “This is my house. And this is my bed, and that—” he gestured to
what I was wearing “—is my shirt.”

Gazing down, I blushed. It was
true. I was wearing his shirt.

“What are
you
doing here?” he asked, grinning ‘cause he’d apparently figured
it out already.

“I’m baby-sitting your cousins.” I
tried to sound dignified in my answer, as if it was only natural to be sleeping
in his bed, wearing his clothes—I was baby-sitting.

He picked a piece of popcorn out of
my hair. “Geez Summer, you’ve trashed my bed.”

Looking down at the mess, I
grimaced. “Sorry.”

I started shoveling handfuls of
popcorn out of his sheets and back in the bowl. “We were having this little
slumber party type thing, only I fell asleep….” Bewildered, I glanced around
the room. “Where are the kids?”

Mason’s lips
quirked up at the corners with amusement.
“Great baby-sitter.”

It had been a long time since Mason
and I had been alone together. His grin made my stomach feel funny. Also, it
was kind of weird having him so near while I was in his bed, wearing his shirt.
I could feel my face growing hot.

He didn’t seem to notice though, or
more likely, chose to ignore it. Instead he explained, “The kids were zonked
out next to you. I put them in their beds.”

I nodded, kind of relieved. I’d
hate to think someone made off with them while I slept—that would make me
seem irresponsible … right?

Mason picked up the rumpled issue
of the teen magazine I’d been sleeping on. He thumbed through it a moment and I
watched him, kind of holding my breath, hoping he wouldn’t notice the quiz I’d
taken about having crushes on childhood guy-friends.

“You know, you’re a really sound
sleeper,
Summer
,” he said, still looking through the
magazine.

I blinked. What did that mean? My
heartbeat kicked up a notch. How long had he been here? Had he been watching me
sleep? Did I snore? Drool? Ack!

I shrugged, trying to play chill.

“I woke up when you kissed me,” I
reminded him.

“Yeah,” he said, cocking his
eyebrows and looking adorable. “But I did all kinds of stuff before that.”

Right.

He pulled some more popcorn out of
my hair, and suddenly he was gazing at me differently—like he does the
Barbie dolls he goes out with. Feeling awkward, I glanced away, the word
“signals” nagging in my brain.

Signals, signals,
signals
.

The magazine had said I should send
him signals to let him know how I felt. But I wasn’t sure I wanted him to know
… even now. Still. Even after having two long grueling months of being away
from him—of pining at the memories of all the sweet, wonderful things he
had done for me throughout the years. ‘Cause letting him know would be like
handing him a knife and saying, “Wound me. Cause me pain.” I wasn’t up for
heartbreak. Not from Mason. That would kill me. (Like when I’d seen him out in
the school parking lot that day with model-chick right after he’d caged me in
the janitor’s closet trying to get me to profess my longing for him. I’d died
seeing him with that girl. It had shattered my heart. Shriveled everything
inside me. So, yeah, I was chicken to let him know my feelings.)

It was weird when he got like this
though, when out of nowhere he seemed to notice I was a girl (and not just a
sister-ish type being that had once been semi-related to him). Okay, throughout
the last two years it had happened a couple times. But it was always pretty
shocking and I usually couldn’t figure out what brought it on. Like right now.
Maybe it was because I was wearing his T-shirt—maybe he liked seeing me
in it. Or maybe I looked kind of sexy just waking up—you never know,
maybe he liked my hair all tousled and full of popcorn.

Or maybe—
oh my gosh
!
—
maybe
he read my diary! Suddenly I noticed it sitting open on his desk. It was angled
precariously, just as I’d left it. Still, seeing it, I could hardly breathe.
Did he read it while I slept? Was that why he was looking at me like that? I
tried to calm down—not look at it. It was possible he hadn’t noticed the
tattered thing. It was halfway covered under my shamble of schoolbooks.

I swallowed.

“So, what are you doing here?” I
asked again, halfway deciding he’d tell me if he had read it. Mason’s not one
of those guys who can keep things—like knowing my innermost
thoughts—to himself. He’d basically
have
to tease me about it. To do otherwise would be going against nature. I tried to
sound ultra-casual, “Your aunt said you went camping for the weekend.”

Mason nodded. “I did, but it started
pouring.”

“So, um,” I fidgeted with his
sheets, feeling my face turning red and this deep, deep, deep, abiding
awkwardness, “I guess you want your bed, right?”

“Well, actually, no. I mean
,
I didn’t know my dad was gone for the night.” He raised
his eyebrows meaningfully. “He’s got a king size bed.”

Unable to meet his pointed gaze, I
started searching his sheets for figment popcorn strays—anything to avoid
his eyes.

What could I say? I chose to sleep
in his dinky bed, rather than his dad’s fancy king-sized. What was weird
though, was Mason didn’t even ask why. Probably he didn’t need to. Probably he
already knew—I wanted the comfort of being where he slept, rather than
the luxury of a king-sized bed. There hadn’t even been any question in my mind—I
wanted to feel near Mason … even if he wasn’t around.

There was an awkward, tense
silence,
then
Mason ran his hands through his hair and
let out a breath. “I’m beat.”

It was like he was going to leave
the room, but then he turned back to me. “Why are you baby-sitting on a
Saturday night anyway?”

Morose, I could do nothing more
than shrug. The pathetic truth was, I’d turned down a date to come here. And
not only that, I was baby-sitting his sweet little cousins the
entire
weekend. Sure, I needed the
money. But it was also—I don’t know. Mason had done so much for me these
past few years. I wanted to do something for him. (Though, well, that was
weird, since really I’d just been helping out his aunt and little cousins.
Mason hadn’t even known his aunt had called me. Still, that was the reason I
did it—to help.) What really had me fidgeting though was he didn’t even
tease me about choosing his bed over his dad’s. I mean, of all the humiliating
things, he was being
tactful
. “I
thought you were tired Mason. Go to bed.”

Instead, he straddled the chair at
his desk, looking at me, bemused. “Remember when we used to be close friends?”
he asked. “We used to tell each other everything. Remember that?”

“Yes,” I said with a sigh, knowing
what he was getting at. “We
are
still friends Mason. I’m sorry, okay?”

“Yeah. I just can’t believe you
were back to school for three days without telling me.”

“Well …” I really didn’t know how
to explain it to him without sounding like a dork. But the thing was, he was
wounded and somehow just knowing he cared enough to be hurt made me want to be
slightly honest. I mean, absurdly, his pain touched me. “I specifically sought
you out the first morning I got back to school—I did. But then, when I
found you, you were with some blond on the bleachers—sort of intimate. I
would have felt stupid interrupting.”

“Yeah, but three days
?!
”

“Well, every time I saw you, you
looked busy. You were either with a girl, or with a bunch of guys. I just never
had the chance—”

“I don’t get it. We’ve been
relatives—we did
dishes
together—and you can’t even bother to stop me in the hall and say `Hey
Mason, look, I’m back’?”

“Well … I just felt kind of shy
about it.”

“Shy?” He looked perplexed. “Why
would you feel shy?”

He’s
a moron. I hate him
. “I don’t know. I guess I was afraid you wouldn’t care.
I mean, since last year we’ve barely spoken—well, until the Blake
incident. But I was afraid that I’d be all excited, and tell you I’m back, and
you wouldn’t care. That would have hurt, you know?”

He gazed at me a moment. “Why do you
always think like that? You’re the one that always acts so cool, like you
couldn’t care less. I never act that way.”

“Yeah, but when I do it you know
it’s an act. And how should I know how you act these days anyway? I have no
idea how you act anymore. It’s been a long time since we’ve actually had a
conversation—I mean, besides ‘Hey, will you beat up my ex-boyfriend’ and
‘Whoa! Someone sent the whole school a dirty picture of me.’” I cringed
remembering that stuff, then went on with my point or explanation or excuse or
whatever I was giving about the reason I didn’t tell him I was back to
Jefferson. “And every time I saw you this week you were with a different girl.”

“What, you were spying on me?”

“Kind of.”

His expression changed at that. I
couldn’t read it, which was strange because I knew Mason pretty well—like
he said, we used to do dishes together.

“You must have like, been hiding
from me,” he said. “I mean
,
you don’t exactly blend
into a crowd.”

I shrugged. “Apparently I do.”

“Man Summer, if I hadn’t seen you
Wednesday in the cafeteria you would have just let us graduate without ever
telling me you were back. I mean, they would have announced your name to come
up and get your diploma, and I would have sat there like a chump, wondering how
you were able to get it from our school when you’d spent the last year in a
convent.”

“It wasn’t a convent. It was an
all-girl school.”

Mason smirked. “Same thing.”

He fumbled through his camping
gear.

My heart in my throat, I watched
him unroll his sleeping and get it situated on the floor next to the bed.

I cleared my throat, already
knowing my voice was going to be shaky. “I thought you were going to sleep in
your dad’s bed.”

“Yeah, I was.” He shrugged, like no
big deal. “But you want me here with you, right? I’ll pass up comfort for old
time’s sake—and yeah, Summer … for you.”

CHAPTER 38

Mason crawled into his sleeping bag
and immediately fell asleep. I, on the other hand, was up all night. I had this
hovering, suffocating feeling of despair I couldn’t shake.

The thing was, I wouldn’t have even
seen Mason that night if his camping plans hadn’t got axed. I mean, he could
say he missed our closeness all he wanted, but as the saying goes, actions
speak louder than words, and well, let’s face it, the guy put out zero action.
Basically, with Mason it was—out of sight, out of mind. When I wasn’t in
his sight, I was completely out of his mind. At best, I was like a stray dog to
him. Whenever my pathetic existence reached his attention he threw me a bone.

It had been like that basically
even when we were “siblings” and lived together. If I reached out to him and
asked him for help—he was right there for me and would do whatever I
asked. But otherwise, he sort of, kind of avoided me. Always. Well, not right
at the beginning, when we first met. Back then, he would invite me to do things
with him all the time—it was like he really liked having me around. But
then … I don’t know what happened. Something changed and then it was never the
same. I mean
,
Mason was always sweet and kind and
caring to me.
And extremely protective.
But at the
same time … yeah, he kind of avoided me.

I have to admit of course, I had
avoided him too—at all costs. But that was different. That was after he
moved out. Then I was hurt. So wounded. I’d told myself—
Fine, if he doesn’t want to be part of my
life anymore then I won’t be part of his.
In a way, it had been easier that
way. Way easier than seeing him around school but not really, truly having him
part of my life anymore. It just seemed easier on my heart to cut him out of it
completely.

But then that thing with Blake came
up … and then that thing with Sabrina … and then that awful camping trip. They
all happened so fast—and all right in a row. But having him back in my
life again—even for that tiny little span of time—crumbled down all
the walls around my heart I had tried to build against him.

If I hadn’t seen him with that
blond pin-up girl after our closet encounter I probably would have hunted him
down and spouted all my confused, convoluted feelings to him. Confessed that
I’d fallen for him. Big time. But well, the next time I saw him he
was
with that girl and it made me
realize I was no longer in Mason’s sight—so I was out of his mind.

And it killed me.

Yet the whole time I was away at my
aunt’s, I’d never been able to get Mason out of my mind. But I sure seemed to
be out of his, completely—he didn’t call or text or … well, anything. I
kept hoping he would communicate with me and say he was sorry that he was with
a girl right after caging me in the closet, looking at me all hungry and
seductive and like he wanted me big time. Wanted to “kiss me blind” like he had
said once.

But no.
He
didn’t communicate with me … and I’d been too hurt to communicate with him.

… Anyway, that’s how I was left feeling—that
actions speak louder than words, and Mason had put out zero action towards
trying to show me he was “into” me. I mean, when I wasn’t conveniently located
right in front of his face.

***

It was weird, but I was still
contemplating the Mason’s-neglect thing Monday at school—when suddenly he
was there, hovering over me as I shut my locker.

He smiled, amused
by my surprise—or so I thought.
I
thought
that’s why he was smiling all I’m-totally-entertained-like.

He sort of pinned me against my
locker. (Mason does that—pins girls against walls so he can get up close
and tempting and make girls’ hearts pound and their knees go weak … before he
breaks their heart … by pinning another girl [out in the school parking
lot—right against his motorcycle, when he ought to be in a class].)

Anyway, he pinned me against my
locker. Playful at first, not seducing or romantic or anything
like
that.
Just whimsically.
Like
for fun or something. But
then
a
spark flickered in
his eyes and h
is expression lost all of its amusement. He leaned in
closer to me, so close I could feel his heat—and
see
heat glistening in his eyes … like a burning.
For me.
My heart started beating all spazzy and wild. Mason
doesn’t usually do this kind of thing to me. (I know you might think he does, because
I’ve given you a lot of examples and instances where he did … but those were
exceptions. Not the rule. The rule normally was—he treated me like a
sister.)

So, I was quite shocked and amazed.
And swooning.

Mason softly touched a tendril of
my hair.

“Want to get a hot chocolate?”

He asked it in my ear—well
right up close to it. His warm, Mason breath tickled my neck, sending tingles
through my body, all the way down to my toes.

The air whooshed out of me. What’s
going on? Why’s he … flirting? With me?

His hungry brown eyes lingered on
mine—stayed intently focused on them, drinking in my every expression.
His blatant staring made my knees go weak and my palms start sweating.

What.
Is. Happening?

I swallowed.

“Can’t.” I managed to choke out. “I
have a test.”

Trying to look chill and sound in
control of my pounding, exploding heart, I cleared my throat and informed him
curtly, “I need to go study for it. Now.”

He tilted his chin to one side,
then the other—something he does when he’s thinking. Finally, he pulled
away, giving me room to move, a little.

He leaned against the locker next
to me. “You’re studying during break? That’s so boring.”

“Yeah, well, you know me…” I headed
towards the library.

“Yeah, I do.”

The way he said that made me turn
back to him, a shiver of dread running through my body.

His lips quirked.
“I have something of yours.”

Suddenly, I felt sick. “What?”

Mason flashed a grin. Then slowly,
he unzipped his backpack and took something out. Seeing what it was, my heart
stopped. I mean it. I no longer had a heartbeat.

“My diary! Aaahhh! You didn’t read
it, did you?” I hadn’t even noticed it was missing. See, that’s what a person
gets for being sporadic with a journal, they lose it, and don’t even realize
it’s gone. But obviously, I’d forgotten it at Mason’s in my hasty exit Sunday
morning. “Mason, you didn’t …
did
you?”

He nodded that he did.

“No, you’re kidding,” I begged.
“You wouldn’t read it.”

“No, I did,” he assured me.

“But—you had no right.” I
clutched my stomach, so incredibly sick. “It’s personal.”

“Yeah, no kidding. Look, I didn’t
even know what it was. I swear. I just found this open notebook in my
desk—an ugly, ratty thing. I thought girls were supposed to have pretty
diaries, with locks and everything. Anyway, I had no idea what it was. It was
in my desk, I thought it was mine.”

“I put it in there to hide it from
you.”

“Yeah, well, clever spot.”

“Mason, you had no right to read
it.”

“I realize that—I do. But I
really did at first think it was mine. I mean, I hadn’t been in that desk for
like, a year practically—it’s a mess—and so I had no idea what was
in there. And it was right on top, and it didn’t look like a diary. It was just
a notebook, and it was open, and I started reading, and it was about me, so I
kept reading.”

“Mason!” I was mortified.

For about a second he looked truly
sorry, but then he smirked. “You really think I look like Zak Efron?”

“I hate you.”

He raised his eyebrows. “That’s not
what I read.”

I threw my diary in my backpack and
tried to storm away, but he grasped my shoulder, pulling me back to him. He
cupped my chin in his hands and made me look up into his face. “Summer, I
promise you, when I first started reading I had no idea what it was.”

“But when you found out you should
have stopped.”

“Yeah, I should have, I know that.
I was going to—but it was about me.”

I squirmed away from him, shaking.
“So? That doesn’t give you the right to read it.”

“I thought maybe you left it there
on purpose. I thought maybe—subconsciously, or whatever—you wanted
me to read it. You know—read the things you dare not say.”

“Mason, cut the crap—you’re a
nosy jerk.”

“And you—” he grabbed my arm
again as I tried to storm away—again—this time pinning me against
my locker, “—are a romantic girl. I never knew that.”

His eyes lingered on mine for a
second all hot and hungry, but then his lips quirked in that teasing way he
has. “I had to stop reading and take a cold shower every three pages.”

Not! He was so teasing. Still, I
could feel my face turning red just the same.

I muttered, “Right. That’s what my
whole life’s been about—to get you hot and bothered.”

“Yeah,” his eyes danced, “that’s
what I read.”