Page 26 of Without Judgment

CHAPTER TEN

Mason

Fuck. Once again, I’d figuratively kicked a puppy, I thought, watching her walk out of the kitchen. I’d shut her down for asking what had driven me into the military. But it was something I didn’t talk about. In fact, I didn’t even like to think about my anger issues following my mother’s death, my dad’s quick remarriage, or my past self-destructive behavior that could’ve landed me in jail. It was all behind me now. I wasn’t the same person, having gotten a handle on my teenage anger issues and misbehavior.

She’d opened up to me, but I couldn’t do the same. I purposefully cut myself off from sharing any emotional baggage or getting close to people. Last night had been a warning shot. I’d been between her thighs and wanting nothing more than to thrust deep inside of her. Clearly, my self-control around her was in serious jeopardy. What was it about this girl with her innocent blue eyes and unexpected charm? I’d thought if I could gloss over last evening and pretend it had never happened I could convince myself it was a momentary lapse. At least I hadn’t acted.

Then she’d gone and brought up last night herself, wondering if I was mad about the water gun. I shook my head. She either had to be the very best actress in the world or she truly had no clue how close we’d been. I was inclined to believe the latter.

Fifteen minutes later, I walked into the theater room where I knew she’d gone. I tried to ignore the fact she was stunning without even trying. Dressed in a tank top, tight yoga pants, not a drop of makeup, and with her hair piled up in a messy bun, she had absolutely no pretense about her.

I should simply apologize. But instead, my gaze flicked to the screen in the darkened room. I mentally groaned at the image of the characters on the screen. “Is this a chick flick?”

She didn’t spare me a glance, reaching into a big bag of chips she was snacking on. “It’s a romantic comedy.”

I sighed, taking a seat next to her on the comfortable leather love seat, one of three in the room. Five recliners a step above created the theater-type seating. The screen was the biggest I’d ever seen. “Same difference. What’s it called?”

“Princess Bride.”

Could I help it if I grinned at the fact the movie had the word princess in it?

“And if you’re planning to make any princess jokes, snarks, or rude comments about the name, the characters or the movie, I’d prefer it if you left instead.”

I listened in on a few lines and raised a brow. I wasn’t trying to be a jerk, but how could a dude not make snarky comments about this movie? “I won’t poke fun if you can give me a good reason why you like this cheesy movie?”

She hit pause on the movie and turned towards me with big blue eyes more somber than I’d ever seen them. “It was my mom’s favorite movie and the last one we watched together before she died. And since tomorrow is the anniversary of her death, I wish to be left in peace.”

There was guilt, then there was the feeling you were the biggest bastard in the whole world. Then there was a level below that, which was the shit on the bastard’s shoe. I was the shit on the shoe.

“Fuck, Avery. I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware.” I would rather she’d gut punched me than feel this horrible.

“I know you weren’t. But now that you are, I need a break from the judgment. Just for twenty-four hours. Maybe a sliver of what happened yesterday when you were nice to me. When I thought perhaps we were becoming—”

She stopped mid-sentence before sighing, that last word seemingly stuck in her throat.

“Never mind.”

“Becoming what?” I found myself anxious for the answer

Another loud breath echoed in the room. “Friends. Which is stupid because you don’t like me, and I hardly know you.”

“It’s not you.”

She waited.

“I’m not much of a people person. You can even ask your brother.”

She laughed. “If I go asking my brother about you, he’s gonna think it’s for one reason only.”

My eyes got big. Yeah. I could see him assuming it’d be because she was interested. “On second thought, don’t ask. But I’d like it if we were friends.”

But instead of appearing eager over the prospect, she frowned. “I don’t need you to say that because I told you it’s the anniversary of my mom’s death tomorrow.”

“I’m not.”

She appeared dubious. “Then give me one reason you’d want to be friends with me.”

Now would’ve been a good time to exercise a filter. But I’d always been blunt, and this was no exception. “Because you’re not nearly as self-absorbed as I thought you’d be. I actually had a good time yesterday.”

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