Author: Cheryl McIntyre

Chapter 19

Mason

I haven’t seen Hope since Saturday night. She kicked me and Guy out of her bedroom. And when Kellin and I went home Sunday afternoon, she hadn’t left the room once. I spent the rest of Sunday alternating between texting and calling her. Both of which she ignored, so I talked to Guy a few times. Apparently she wasn’t speaking to him either, but Annie assured him she was all right. Just really pissed off.

I lean against my car, ear buds in place, and wait for her to pull into the school parking lot. It’s hard to believe it’s only been a week. It’s hard to believe it’s already been a week. Time has meant nothing lately. Up until yesterday, that is. God, yesterday stretched out so long. It was the first time I haven’t seen or spoken to her since the day we met.

I freaking hated it, which is screwed up. The whole thing is screwed up. Hope told me she was damaged. Said she would fuck me up. And she was right. I don’t know if she realized she’d fuck me all up just by refusing to talk to me. But she has.

The old Bel Air pulls in and I sigh loudly. Not sure how she’ll react today, I head toward the doors to wait for her. She looks like she always does. I don’t know why, but I expected her to be different. I don’t know. Sad or something.

I move in beside her and brush my shoulder into hers. “Hey.”

“Hey.” She doesn’t look at me.

“How are you?”

“I’m fine.”

“What did you do yesterday?”

“Worked on a couple new songs.”

“Oh, what about?”

“Just lyrics like I always write.”

I stop and take her hand. “Look at me.”

“What?” Her voice is neutral and calm and I’ve learned quickly that isn’t a good sign. Her eyes meet mine and she looks at me like she always does only there’s something cold in her gaze.

“I don’t understand why you won’t talk to me,” I say. She rolls her eyes and pulls her hand away.

“I am talking to you.”

“But you’re not saying anything. I called you twenty times yesterday. Text you.”

She takes a step closer to me and my stomach tightens in response. I want to pull her against me. I want to hug her and breathe her in. “I’m giving you your out.” And then she turns around and walks away. What the hell? I don’t want an out. She’s playing her damn games with me again. Pushing me away. Assuming. Making my choices for me.

Well fuck that.

I push my way through the hallway traffic and grab her arm, guiding her until her back is against the lockers. “I still want you.”

Hope’s eyes squint into a glare. “I’m not a pity project.”

I shake my head at the ceiling. “Park put that shit in your head. I don’t pity you. I liked you before I knew. I still like you.”

“Then there is something seriously wrong with you.” She pushes off the lockers, trying to walk away, and I push her back with my body. She’s starting to piss me off.

“There is something wrong with me. I freaking know that. And there’s something wrong with you. I don’t give a shit. I feel good when I’m with you. I want you so bad I can’t even think straight. You are one of the coolest girls I’ve ever met and I want to know you. Stop using bitchiness as a form of self defense and let me in.”

“You didn’t even ask me. You shoved yourself on me.” She takes a breath that shakes her small frame. “You held me down and looked. You pulled up my shorts.” She’s struggling to speak now and I’m staring at her in shock. A cold shiver runs over me as dread sets in. I didn’t mean it to be like that. I wasn’t trying to hurt her or scare her. I didn’t think. Maybe one of the biggest, most important pieces of the Hope puzzle is revealed in her frantic eyes.

Who made her like this? What happened to her?

“Hope…” I don’t know what to say.

She shoves me away. “You should have trusted me.”

I laugh dryly at that. “Maybe I shouldn’t have handled it the way I did, but don’t say I should’ve trusted you.” I lean my face close to her ear. “Your point is moot since you are, in fact, a cutter.”

“I hate you,” she spits and propels herself off the wall past me. I let her go this time because I can’t believe she said that. At the same time, I know I deserve it. I thrust my fist into the locker. The clang of flesh against metal rings throughout the hall. People turn to gawk at me. I kind of want to tell them to fuck off, but instead, I do an about face and go to class.

*******

I walk into Biology fourth period and Hope is already sitting at a table. Her feet are resting on the chair in front of her. My chair, though she wouldn’t know that since she hasn’t been in school since I started.

I place a box of grape Nerds on top of the table and slide it toward her slowly. Her eyes narrow on the candy before she swipes it onto the floor. Twisting her lips in disgust, she opens her book and adamantly ignores me.

I scoop up the candy and shove it in my backpack. Message received loud and clear. Her feet drop as I reach for my chair. I sit sideways and clear my throat.

“Hey,” I say.

Besides the stiffening of her shoulders, Hope makes no indication she hears me. “Hope,” I say louder. “I know you’re pissed, but—”

She looks up quickly, her gaze sharp enough to slice me in half. “Don’t.”

I freeze. Half of me is relieved that she’s showing some kind of emotion, even if it’s anger. The other half hates that it’s directed at me. “I screwed up,” I say. “I get it, all right?”

Both brows rise and she scoffs at me. Her voice is low when she speaks. “You don’t get shit, Mason. That’s the point.”

“I would if you talked to me,” I fire back.

She shakes her head. “Just leave me alone.”

But I don’t want to leave her alone. I want to make her see that I wasn’t trying to hurt her. I want her to understand that I would never hurt her. I open my mouth to tell her, but she shoves her chair back, plucks her book bag from the back and strolls out the door just as the bell rings.

The girl beside me smiles and scoots her seat closer to mine. I force my own smile before fixing my eyes on the door, waiting for Hope to come back.

She doesn’t.

Chapter 20

Hope

I’m shaking when I close myself in the bathroom. It took everything in me not to hit Mason with my book bag.

I can’t believe I actually allowed myself to feel anything for him. I told him things. I got close to him. I know better than that. I trusted him.

I trusted him.

Maybe it’s my stupidity that’s bothering me most.

My legs go weak and I sit heavily on the disgusting floor. It reeks in here, like urine, cleanser, and about fifteen different perfume scents. I don’t want to be here, but I can’t go back in that classroom and stare at the back of his head.

Like a ten year old with a diary, I pour my feelings out onto the pages of my notebook in the form of lyrics. When the bell finally rings, I gladly pack up my things and go to lunch. Until I look at my usual table. My stomach twists when Mason’s eyes meet mine from across the room. Guy follows his gaze back to me and I turn around, walking out the way I came in.

I can’t hide forever. But I’m not ready to deal with either one of them yet.

So I skip Art, too.

By the time I get home, I’m in a hellish mood. Guy bringing the Patel brothers to the house doesn’t help.

“We need to talk,” Mason says as I retreat upon his arrival.

I keep walking and when he lifts his hand like he’s going to grab my arm, I flinch away from him so quickly I bang my elbow on the wall. There is nothing humorous about hitting your funny bone. “Damn it,” I hiss, clutching my pounding arm.

“Jesus, Hope.” His eyes are wide, his cheeks pink. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

I shudder at his words and I don’t know if it’s because I don’t believe him or because he says it so softly, so sincerely, I want to believe him.

So I say the only thing that I am sure of. “You already have.” His eyes flash and something passes over his face that makes my heart skip a beat. But he lets me go without another word.

The whole week has been the same. I get to Biology before Mason. He relentlessly sets candy on my table each day. He’s annoyingly persistent. He doesn’t say a word, just places it gently in front of me and takes his seat. I stopped slapping it to the floor yesterday—after I got sick of feeling bad for being so mean. But I’m not ready to be nice yet, either, so I still ignore his apology in the form of sweet snacks. Even when I really don’t want to. Skipping lunch is getting to me. Every day, I sit in the library, my stomach growling, wishing I would have accepted whatever candy he brought me that day.

Today is especially difficult because I was running late this morning and skipped breakfast. That Snickers bar is just sitting there, staring at me, and taunting me with its chocolaty goodness.

If I pick it up and eat it, then he’ll take that as forgiveness. He’ll smile smugly and start talking to me.

I do not miss his smile. I do not miss his voice or the way it sounds when he’s speaking just to me, all soft and low. And I definitely do not have a crazy attraction to him.

I find myself reliving the night of the party. The hours before everything went to shit. The times he kissed me. What’s messed up is when I think about the way he grabbed a hold of my leg, I have a mini meltdown, but the second my mind flips back to that first kiss, I am not at all repulsed. I find myself wanting to do it again. Thinking I should just explain why I freaked out and exonerate him.

I have got to remember to pack a lunch tomorrow. My hunger is obviously getting to me.

Carly Reeves leans into Mason’s arm, pretending she doesn’t understand the assignment. I stifle an eye roll. She’s a straight A student. I hate when girls dumb themselves down for a guy.

If I’m being honest with myself, I guess I kind of hate her because Mason didn’t tear her heart apart. He’s looking at her with those stupid green eyes that I do not miss, trying to explain it in a way he thinks she’ll comprehend. His dimple peeks at me three times before I look away.

My foot bounces as I glare at the clock. I swear the second hand just moved backward.

Carly giggles at something Mason says and I cringe. I hate when girls giggle like toddlers. I need out of here before I laugh at her and draw attention to the fact that I’ve been taking in their whole interaction.

The moment the bell rings, I’m out of my seat and out the door.

Art is worse than Biology because I have to sit right beside him. I have to sit here, smelling Mason’s scent that’s all clean boy and laundry detergent. I have to feel the warmth coming off his body that is much closer than it needs to be. I have to hear every single time he asks a question, or clears his throat, or breathes.

I feel him steal glances, but I keep my eyes to my side of the table.

He doesn’t bring me candy in this class, but today he pulls a sandwich from his backpack and holds it out to me.

“Peanut butter and chocolate frosting,” he says quietly. He smiles and I do not melt a little. “I thought you might be hungry since you keep skipping lunch.” When I just look at him, he sighs and sets it in front of me. “I’ll sit somewhere else from now on. You don’t need to skip lunch to avoid me.”

I don’t pick up the sandwich, but I do stare at it until it blurs out and I’m not really seeing anything. Damn him for being so sweet and making me feel like shit for being upset with him.

I feel myself getting angry. Bitchiness is always my go-to place when I’m confused about the emotions whirling inside. I shouldn’t feel guilty over this. He should. He’s the one that pulled my shorts up. He grabbed me when the last thing I wanted was to be touched. He made me feel twelve years old again. He made me feel things I never want to feel again.