Page 63 of Fun and Games
"Depends on your definition of relationship," he said.
"Are there different definitions?" I asked.
He pressed his lips together.
"You can use whatever definition you want," I told him.
"At one time I might have said I've had two," he said. "But I know better now."
I cocked my head at him. "How do you mean?"
"I thought we had something," he said. "Both times, I thought it was for real. But in the end, they didn't really care about me. They cared about what I could do for them."
A pang of sympathy went through me.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I remember you said before it was hard to trust people's intentions."
"It's fine. I know better now." He quirked a sad smile. "Don't ever get with singers who are trying to make it big."
"Did they want you to give their CDs to producers or something?" I asked, making an assumption from what little I knew of the industry.
"That's how it works, I guess." He nodded at me. "Your turn. Truth or dare."
"Truth." I thought it was only fair that he get a chance to ask a probing question, too.
"Why do you always move around so much?" he asked.
A lump formed in my throat.
It was similar to the question he'd asked before.
What are you running from?
"I want to experience things," I said. "I want to live life to the fullest. I don't want to miss out anymore."
"That's not the whole reason, though, is it?" he asked astutely.
"I couldn't—" My voice failed me. I tried again. "After David passed, I couldn't stay. I had to get away for a bit. I needed space to clear my head. To deal with my grief." I blinked my stinging eyes rapidly, hoping they weren't glossy with unshed tears. "Your turn."
"Dare."
Mason waited patiently for me to gather myself. At least I had an idea of how to turn the game around.
"I dare you to message the last person you texted and write them the nastiest dirty talk you can," I said.
Mason cringed.
"Do they have to think I sent it to them on purpose?" he asked.
"I'm not that mean," I said. "Afterwards, when they're shocked and appalled, you can explain you meant for it to go to someone else."
"You're the worst," Mason said, but he pulled out his phone and tapped. He groaned. "The last person I texted was my accountant to confirm an appointment."
I burst out laughing, slapping my hand against the table repeatedly until I couldn't breathe.
"Oh god, that's even better than I could have hoped for," I gasped through the laughter.
"Well, I was considering finding a new accountant anyway," Mason muttered.
