Page 62 of The Young & the Sinner

Olivia

No lightfrom the outside and none on the inside. Even the moon was hidden amongst the clouds. I let out a small yelp, calling Mason’s name.

“Olivia?” He was somewhere in the living room. I got up and moved toward him. I misjudged the length of the couch, when three steps in, my hip bumped against the hard armrest. I let out painful cry, and fell, head first, to the ground.

Luckily, I moved at the last minute and it wasn’t my head that received the most impact from the fall, but my shoulder.

“Ouch.”

“Olivia, are you okay?”

Mason sounded closer now, but I still had no idea where he was. Tears stung my eyes and I hated the feeling of helplessness that was, once again, bearing me down.

“Mason?” Even I could hear how clogged my voice sounded. There was no mistaking that I was crying.

“Are you on the ground?”

I took a deep breath before I spoke. “Yeah, I fell.”

“It’s okay, stay where you are. I’ll find you.”

It wasn’t long after he said that that I felt something touch my hand. I pulled away, thinking it might be a rat, which, in hindsight, I knew was a ridiculous thought. We didn’t have any rats in this house. But then my hand was pulled back and I was in Mason’s arms.

I wasn’t usually so emotional, but being in his arms made me cry harder. Mason wrapped me tightly around him, and I buried my face in his chest.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. Don’t cry. I’m here now.”

I wrapped my arms around his waist and held onto him for dear life. He was here now. And he was rubbing my back in comforting circles, letting me cry into his chest.

After several minutes, my cries turned into hiccups, and I grew embarrassed. I wanted to leave my face buried in his chest for the rest of the night. I prayed the electricity wouldn’t come back on, because then I would have to face Mason again.

I was eighteen years old, and yet I acted like an eight-year-old because the power went out. What was Mason thinking of me now? So much for wanting him to see me as the mature woman I could be.

My arms tightened around him. “I’m sorry.”

My voice was muffled through his shirt, but he heard me anyway. “Why are you sorry?”

“For crying on you. For acting like a big baby.”

“Hush now. I don’t mind that you cried all over me. And you’re not acting like a big baby. You’re just scared.”

“Of the dark.” Which was even more ridiculous when I said it out loud. I hadn’t been afraid of the dark since I was ten. I knew there wouldn’t be any monsters coming out of my closet to get me just because it got dark.

Mason clutched my shoulders and gently pulled me back. I couldn’t even see his profile it was so dark, and I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. “The dark is a pretty scary thing,” he said seriously.

I smiled, even though he could see me. “I guess it just took me by surprise.”

“I know, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. Max had called me sweetheart before, but it sounded so different coming out of Mason’s mouth. My heart thudded in tandem with the rain on the rooftop, so loud in my ears I was surprised he couldn’t hear it.

“Thank you for coming over today. I don’t know what I would have done right now if you weren’t here.”

My words seemed to be affecting him, because I felt his grip on my shoulders tightening. “I’m glad I’m here.”

I leaned forward and he didn’t stop me. I wanted to kiss his cheek in thanks, like I had done in his car many, many nights ago, but I miscalculated, because I got his lips instead.

It took me a few seconds to register. It didn’t feel real that my lips were actually touching his, and that he wasn’t moving me away. We held still for several long seconds, and when I finally pulled back, my lips felt warm.

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