Page 47 of What are the Chances

Mason has his laptop set up with a movie loaded and our pillows arranged comfortably behind us. I’ve showered and changed into sleep shorts and a tank top. Before climbing into bed, he sees to the guests, making sure there aren’t any issues, then follows suit.

The idea is, once we finish our big questions, we’ll settle in for a movie. I was still stuck on the idea of a ‘ride’ after we were done with our game but wasn’t going to say anything. I wasn’t going to push him, simply enjoy my time with him.

Mason rests next to me, barechested, wearing a pair of sleep shorts. It’s making this whole big conversation thing a little hard to focus on.

“So, which of us is going first?” His question comes out with a lilt of nervousness.

That’s right. He’s nervous.

I let out a sigh and turn to face him more directly, crossing my legs and resting my hands in my lap.

“Me,” I breathe out, holding his gaze steady. Thankfully, he doesn’t wince or shutter away, simply releases a sigh and leans further into his pillows.

“Right, my question,” he says, staring into my eyes. “Why I left Ireland.”

I nod, hoping to encourage his side of this discussion. Once he seems comfortable with the pillows, he looks up at the ceiling and lets out a heavy sigh.

“After I was done with secondary school, I was on the fence about my future. I was good with numbers and planned to help my da out a bit with some business things here and there, but nothing was concrete. I was seein’ a girl named Claire at the time. We met when we were seventeen and had plans to marry and all that.” Mason shoves his hands behind his head and turns his face toward me.

I hold my breath, waiting for him to get past this part. I hate the idea of him with another woman, hate it more than anything I’ve ever experienced. Regardless of the fact it was in the past, and they clearly are no longer together, I’m still irritational as fuck at the moment. And it has me horrifyingly aware of the fact I’m falling for Mason. Shit… maybe I’ve already fallen, and I’m face down in the mud of emotions and things I shouldn’t be feeling. I’m going to run out of air and possibly die and all I want to do is go deeper.

“Anyway, I would work with my da while she lived at home with her parents. I tried to see her as often as I could. We talked about the future, and she knew I had plans to propose to her. I even took her ring shopping where she looked over all the gems and what not and got all excited about it. But then, once I actually got a job with my father’s company and I wasn’t just helpin’ out, things changed a bit.”

I tied some random thread from the blanket around my finger a few times as I waited for him to continue. I hated the pain that was slowly surfacing in his eyes.

“I wasn’t seein’ her as often as I should, I suppose. Things at home were a little off with some sickness my mum encountered, and I was staying here a lot more. I should have picked up on the fact she wasn’t comin’ round. We’d call each other, but our conversations were mostly one sided, me tryin’ to get her to talk. She was pleasant with me but distant. When I brought that up to her, she deflected and said it was just school stuff. She was doin’ online classes at University and helpin’ at a local store. So, I figured she was as busy as me.” He pauses, his eyes staring off at nothing in particular as if he’s replaying the moment so clearly in his mind, and I can nearly see it.

“One night, I had some free time, so I snuck away. I surprised her and found her lyin’ in the arms of another.” He draws lazy circles on my knee as he opens his heart and shares all the broken pieces. Bits from this afternoon were slamming into me as I thread his story together.

“She’d been seeing someone else for months. We’d been talkin’ about our wedding the night prior and everythin’. I remember shoutin’ and throwing things in her room, glad her family wasn’t home, totally broken inside. I loved her. Yet she couldn’t find the decency to end things with me. She was just stringing me along until she was sure her new bloke would work out.”

Mason’s glare toward the window is severe. The pain is still there, buried deep down, and I had triggered it with my nonchalant break up with Kyle. I want to cry and shake myself for not handling this whole thing better. He likely thought there was still some string attaching me to Kyle, and that’s why he was so afraid of looking at me with anything but pain.

I lean forward and press my lips to his, pushing into him with my apology. Still, I know it won’t be enough. Not that I knew about his past, but I wish I had. His warm hand grips my waist as he gently pushes at the fabric until he’s touching my skin. I end the kiss and press my forehead into his, ready to confess whatever he needs me to.

“Your turn,” I whisper, wishing I had words for his painful past, but nothing I say would heal what happened to him. Nothing could break up the thick distrust he still holds toward relationships and possibly, toward women. No amount of words could change the past. I just needed to know what was in his head where I was concerned.

Mason brushes my hair out of my face and leans up on his arm, facing me. His eyes search mine like he isn’t sure he wants to say the words resting on the tip of his tongue. Finally, he lowers his head and lets out a sigh.

“For starters, how long is your trip?” His lazy circles continue as his expression softens a bit.

I smile and run my fingers through his thick red strands.

“Two weeks was how long everything was scheduled for.” I wince at my loose tongue, letting my insecurity leak through. Mason catches the slip and sits up further, gearing up for something.

“Was?” he asks, breathless. “Are you planning on staying in Ireland?”

His soft laugh washes over me, and I close my eyes, trying to find the words.

“I don’t know yet. Something about this place makes me want to stay. I feel like I was meant to be here. I know that sounds crazy… but I don’t have anything waiting for me back in L.A.” I let my voice drift off a bit, not sure what I was hoping for, but some small part of me wants him to want to stay here too. It feels like a middle school crush, wanting a forever that could never be and endless amount of time that could never exist.

He doesn’t respond, just keeps drawing invisible circles on my knee cap. My fingers tangle in his hair, and my heart beats frantically as I wait for the next portion of his question.

“If I were to tell you I was falling for you, would it scare you away?” Mason whispers as he stares into my eyes. The soft lilt of his accent and the quietness of his question has me melting from the inside out. On instinct, without thinking about it or getting lost in my own head, I shake my head.

“You can’t scare me away Mason. That thing I feel here,”—I hold my hands against my chest, feeling the erratic beat beneath it—“the feeling that stirs my soul and beckons my heart, you’re a part of it. I might not be brave enough to admit everything I feel for you yet, but you doing it won’t push me away.”

Mason’s gaze doesn’t waver as he watches me.

Suddenly, I need more from him. I need something to seal this moment, to show him I feel it too—I’m falling but too scared to say the words or to admit the heady feeling I know is love. Instead, I creep forward and straighten my legs until I’m pushing them under the covers, my face inches from Mason’s.

I lift my fingers to trace the bridge of his nose and the shape of his eyebrows. I want to know him, to memorize him—to keep him. I lean forward and kiss him until his hand drifts under my shirt, along my back, and pulls me closer. I push his shorts down and eagerly claim that ride he promised me.

---