Page 83 of Most Valuable Player
Mason’s eyes sparkle. Either my words resonate with him or this is the best soup he’s ever devoured. “Liam would’ve called me needy,” he says with a smirk.
“Helping you when you’re sick is bare-minimum relationship behavior.” I wrap an arm around Mason, hugging him closer before pulling his legs sideways into my lap. “Iwantto be here. Iwantto help you get better. Plus, I get to spend time with you, so I’m winning all around.”
Mason squirms and covers his face like I’ve humiliated him.
“What?” I demand.
“Nothing. I just want to kiss you.”
“So do it.”
He swats a scolding hand against my chest. “You’ll get sick!” he says irritably. “Bad enough I’m basically sitting in your lap. You’re inhaling all my death fumes.”
“If I get sick, you’ll just have to return the favor and spoon-feed me,” I say, shrugging as I shovel more soup in his mouth. “We’ll be boyfriends by then, so it’ll be expected of you.”
Mason nearly laughs into his palm but catches the habit last second, lowering his hand to his lap. “You’re certain I’ll say yes.”
“There’s no reason to say no,” I point out. “Now that you know I have a thoughtful personality to go with my immaculate body and sparkling eyes.”
Mason bows his head in agreeance. “Yes, Your Majesty, thou art truly a flawless being graced by the gods.”
“…You’re teasing me.”
“Not I.”
I humph, jamming the spoon back in his mouth so he can’t make another snide remark. But when I draw it out, he has more to say.
“There’s something I don’t understand.” He shakes his head with bewilderment. “You’re actually a good person under…the nonsense. Why are people always breaking up with you?”
I didn’t expect the conversation to turn like this. Mostly, people just stick to assumptions. But I’m comfortable around Mason, even if he likes to jab me with his cruel words of sarcasm. “People usually break up with me because they think I’m not into them,” I admit, clearing through an incoming rasp in my throat. “They ask me out because I have this reputation for being fun and spontaneous and sex driven. But I’m not very physical with them, and if I am, I’m not into it. They end up feeling like I’m not actually interested in them, and usually they’re right.”
Mason’s mouth opens slowly for the next spoonful. “Then you’re not sexually attracted to people very often?” he wonders.
“Almost never.”
“Almost?”
“Well.” I rub the back of my neck, then mumble, “There’s you.”
Mason’s cheeks color once again. I’m sort of becoming obsessed with the sight. “Like, you want to have sex with me?”
“I…Yeah. I’m pretty sure.” I’ve never really fantasized about sex, but every time I’m close to him, and our breaths are heavy and short, and his eyelashes are long and his snarky voice is in my ear and his skin is slick, I want to pursue him further. “Like, I want to make you feel good.”
Mason frowns through another spoonful of soup. “I’d never want you to feel obligated—”
“It’s not like that,” I say quickly. “I’d want to do it. Because I’mgetting to know you, and I’d like to make you feel…safe. With me. I think it would feel, like, nice. To know you trusted me enough. To let me. Do that. To you.”
I don’t know. Why my sentences. Are fractured. Like that. Probably because I’m not sure how to explain myself. Whenever I’ve had sex conversations with my partners, it often ended in frustration or tears on their end, like I just called them hideous. Even just encroaching on the subject makes me squirm.
“So the difference between me and everyone else is what?” Mason’s head tilts sideways, curious. “You feel closer to me? Like, emotionally?”
I nod, hoping it doesn’t sound silly. Mason smiles again, tickling my chin with his thumb. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but thanks for being willing to fuck me, Cameron Morelli.”
I choke on my inhale. “I’m being sincere!”
“I know, and it’s making me want to kiss you even more.” The amused twinkle in Mason’s eyes flickers out. He buries his head into my shoulder, sighing. “I started hating sex after a while. I thought as I grew older, I’d understand what was so good about physical intimacy. But the issue wasn’t just my age, was it? It was…”
“He didn’t take care of you,” I say softly. “Just used you to take care of himself.”
