Page 64 of Mason
I hold it up in front of me. It’s huge.
“It’s still going to be really big on you.”
“I’ll knot it. It’ll be fine. In fact—” I set the T-shirt on the bed and peel my tank top off.
“Ah, fuck.” Bear blows out a hard breath as I grin and pull the worn shirt over my head. It hangs down below my shorts. A gruff noise escapes him, an animalistic grunt of approval. He rubs his hands over his face, shooting me a wolfish look. “I’m going through my drawers tomorrow and finding everything that’s too small so I can see you in all of it. Because… fuck, Lennon, I’ll be thinking of you exactly like this every goddamn time I see you in one of my shirts.”
“I will happily wear anything you give me.”
He tips his head to the side. “Not to bring down the mood, but”—his eyes slide to the box still sitting next to the dresser—“is there really that big of a difference?”
I inhale sharply, staring at the box of clothing Duke had bought for me. Chewing on my lip for a few seconds, I take the time to consider his question. “There was when I thought it was other girls’ leftovers that he was giving to me in front of everyone with the implication that he was doing me some big favor.” I scrape my teeth over my bottom lip, hoping Bear gets what I’m saying. “It just— It hit wrong. I do know now that some of my assumptions were incorrect.”
Bear nods. “I’d probably like seeing you in all that stuff, too.”
“I’ll think about it. Promise. For now”—I scoop the bottom of the shirt up until it’s at my waist and gather it at the side, knotting it off—“how’s that?”
“Perfect.” Bear’s hand finds my hip and tugs me close. “Mason and Duke are taking you to the game with them. Do me a favor and stay with them so I don’t worry about you while I’m playing.”
“Will do. Is there assigned seating, or is it a free for all?”
He grits his teeth a bit. “You guys can sit wherever, and there are seats reserved for you down on the fifty yard line, but you might be expected to visit the VIP box where the OG Bastards will be. Duke and Mason should go with you, though. Don’t go up there on your own.”
“Okay. So… Tristan and your dad?” My interest piques, especially since he doesn’t seem to be super excited about me meeting his father.
“Yeah. Derek Pierce. He doesn’t miss a fucking game. Just look for the huge guy who can’t stop talking about the score of the game and the point spread. But honestly, steer clear if you can.”
I don’t miss for a second the way his body has gone rigid like his father isn’t someone he likes discussing. “You two have issues.”
Bear gives a tight nod. “Don’t worry about it. There are also one or two former KU players from Bainbridge Hall who like to sit up there, along with their wives and girlfriends. You’ll see. Honestly, sit where you’re most comfortable. I just want to know you’re there.” He leans in and brushes my lips with his. “I’ll be looking for you.”
THIRTY-THREE
LENNON
Holy shit,this whole college football thing has been overwhelming, and not at all what I was expecting. I’ve only attended one or two high school football games. You know, the kind with the rickety bleachers and the concession stand in a truck off to the side—the sort of game where there weren’t very many spectators on the home side and even fewer on the visitors’. Half the high school team hadn’t even gone through puberty, so there was quite the range of sizes of players. I wondered at how some of the younger guys didn’t get crushed.
But this—this is no high school game. This is D1 collegiate football, played in a whole-ass stadium like I’ve seen on TV. It’s enormous. Then again, I suppose Kingston University has the money to not only support their football program, but also draw in the best players. And Bear? He’s good. I can tell, and I don’t even know exactly what he’s supposed to be doing.
I patiently watch the field, waiting for Bear to slip on his helmet and head out there again. I’ve never been much of a football fan, but this is a lot different than watching on TV. We’re at the fifty-yard line in some of the best seats in the house. Every grunted tackle, all the plays being called, the whistles of the refs, it all feeds into my experience.
I’m seated between Duke and Mason and am astounded by how many people know them. They’re like KU royalty, I see that now. The rest of the brotherhood are slightly lesser in status, but still, the swarm of people who’d greeted us in the parking lot had been insane.
Me? I’m the curiosity. Some of them genuinely want to meet me, and of course, Duke has introduced me as Tristan’s stepdaughter, so that gives me an immediate in with these people whether I wanted one or not. I’ve definitely attracted attention, most of it unwanted, never mind that it’s also unwarranted. Hoards of guys have popped over supposedly to say hello but mostly to give me leering once-overs—and I don’t think I’m imagining that there are a whole lot of hateful glances coming from the female football fans.
Apparently, I’m in the unique position of having been given something these girls want, even if it was thrust upon me. I’ve got to let the bad attitudes roll off my back. I was the one forced into living with these guys. I didn’t ask for this, and I wish I could stand up and shout it, but— Yeah. That’d be a bad idea. Speaking of, I glance up and over my shoulder to the seats further up in the stands. Exclusive seats—the spot where Derek and Tristan are seated and being waited on hand and foot by a catering staff.
Every once in a while, I feel their eyes on us down here, like we’re being observed—or maybe it’s only me being paranoid.
Mason has shifted his body so that he’s taken command of the armrest between us. He’s been mindlessly drawing on my thigh with his fingertip for the last few minutes. I don’t mind it at all, but Duke seems to. He’s given one furtive, irritated glance after another in Mason’s direction, but I hate to tell him… I don’t think Mason realizes he’s doing it. He seems to be somewhere in his head. His eyes track the plays on the field, but he’s not reacting to any of it.
A few minutes later, he shifts slightly, catching my eye before he glances at Duke, then back at the field. “So… got any plans for Monday, Duke?”
Duke’s jaw goes rigid, and he exhales sharply through his nose. “The fuck’s wrong with you?” he grits out. “You and Bear both need a class on how to not be such dickheads. Not everything needs discussing all the damn time.” His gaze lands on Mason’s hand, which has stopped drawing patterns on my leg and simply rests there now, his warm fingers lightly squeezing. Duke shakes his head, pulling out his phone, and focuses on it, even though I could swear he’s not actually seeing much at all.
I feel the anger, the agitation simmering in him. It’s gonna be ugly when it finally blows for real. That little outburst was simply a little steam escaping before the pot of rage boils over.
I must have missed whatever he’s referring to with Bear, but… I sneak a peek at Mason, who’s now working his jaw back and forth. Whatever Mason brought up seems big. And the weird thing is, it obviously has something to do with the anniversary of Juliette’s death coming at us like a runaway freight train. But shit, why does it feel even bigger than that?
