Page 86 of Enemies with Benefits
"Sort of. He was bi too, but his family finding out would have been...problematic to put it lightly. He wasn't interested in anything serious with a woman at the time, and his family was okay with that. But his family was why he wouldn't even dream of something serious with a guy. Which was fine, he was good company, was pretty good in bed, and we didn't have any expectations, which made it easier for both of us. No expectations, no drama, no worrying, just...enjoying each other's company for a while."
"And not one of you ever...got feelings?"
"Don't get me wrong, we were actually super compatible, and I always thought that if we were able to give it a chance, we'd actually do well as a couple. Maybe even make it for the long haul. But, considering his circumstances, that wasn't in the cards. So, I just went with what I had and enjoyed it while it lasted."
Exactly like the sort of thing I expected to hear come out of Mason's mouth. Of course, not that long ago, I would have said it suited him perfectly to have a situation where he could get his fun without worrying about anything serious. Which was probably partly true, he had never taken things all that seriously, but sitting here, having been taken care of by him at one of my weakest moments, I couldn't exactly say that he never tookanythingseriously.
And even if he took more things seriously than I once believed, there was no denying that something about it worked for him. In many ways, it probably worked out better than my constant worrying about everything. After all, what did allmy thinking, obsessing, and worrying get me in the end? Sure, it sometimes let me prepare for something coming my way, but that wasn't guaranteed. Whereas he could get through life without worrying too hard, taking things as they came, and adapting to them...or shrugging them off because they didn't affect him like they might me.
Which begged the question...had I always hated that about him, or had I simply, deep down, been envious of the way nothing fazed him? Was it that his apparent disinterest in being mature was just a mask of jealousy because he could get through life without destroying everything around him, and without stressing himself to his wits' end? It always seemed like I had no choice in what I did or didn't take seriously, whereas choosing what was serious and what was inconsequential came easy to him.
That raised another question...why had he chosen to take care of me at a bad moment as something important? Was whatever was going on between us somehow significant to him rather than a bit of fun? A Mason who simply enjoyed teasing and taunting me, who was just in it for the sex, was the sort of Mason I could cope with. But a Mason who might actually turn his attention toward me and consider me...important? Now that was a version of Mason I didn't know how to handle.
I flinched when I felt a finger prod my forehead a few times, and I looked at him, frowning at his smirk. “You're in your head again. Quit."
"That's where I live most of the time," I said, giving his hand a half-hearted swat. "You should try it sometime."
"Yeah, see, I look at people like you and Moira, who always seem so serious, stressed out, and unhappy from all the thinking, and I think...yeah, that's not for me," he said with a snort. "The only time I ever see you 'in the moment' is when you're pissed...or we're having sex."
"Was that your version of a come on?" I asked with a scowl. "Because I'm not pissed and I'mnot?—"
"Calm thyself," he said, his tone teasing but his smile soft. "I wasn't trying to get in your pants...again."
"Huh? We never..." I looked down and realized I wasn't in my uniform. I was in a pair of lounge pants I didn't recognize and a shirt that wasn't mine. "Oh."
"Wow, you've really been out of it," he said with a shake of his head.
I frowned at what had to be the understatement of the century. He had not only led me to his private room without me noticing what was going on, but cleaned and dressed the injury on my hand, and had stripped me of my clothes as well, all without my paying the slightest attention or remembering. It wasn't like he hadn't seen me naked before, but?—
"I've seen you naked before," he said, unnerving me with his apparent new mind-reading abilities. "You don't really think I tried to like...feel you up while you were a zombie, right?"
"You know," I said, comforted by the fact that he wasn't in fact able to read minds. "Maybe I would have said something about you once, but no, I wasn't even thinking that. It just...feels weird, knowing I was naked while you were...I don't know, it's weird. I don't know how to say it."
"You were already vulnerable, considering where your head was...or wasn't at, I guess," he said with a small smile. "I wasn't going to take advantage. Plus, it wouldn't be nearly as much fun with you catatonic. You're a lot more...mmm, lively, when you're awake. And even more so when you're pissed at me, and still want to fuck me."
I eyed him. “Are you trying to piss me off or just make jokes so I don't feel awkward?"
"Is it working?"
"A little."
"Good."
"You're a fucking idiot."
"No, you're the one fucking an idiot, remember?"
Well, he’d finally won. I couldn't help but bark out a laugh, the sound a little ragged around the edges, but it felt good to let it loose. I was right, but so was he, and I couldn't find it in myself to be upset about it. We were both idiots, really, and we'd proven that time and time again, especially when it came to each other. Hell, maybe that was alright, because now we were being idiots together instead of just at the same time.
"Mmm, that's a far better thinking look than I'm used to seeing on your face," he said with a grin. "Feeling better?"
"A little," I said with a sigh. "Just...drained."
"That's fine, let's go to bed," he said, standing up.
"Uhh…" I began, glancing over my shoulder toward the bedroom.
"Tosleep," he said. "I'm not being a horndog."
