Loving Mason (Imperfect Love Book 2)

by Molloy, Ruby

  “You always talk to yourself?”

  I squeal and drop my keys.

  He’s sitting on the front step. There’s no porch surrounding our door and he’s wet, as in, saturated, rain dripping from his chin, wet. His jeans are stuck to his legs and there’s a pallor to his skin that tells me he’s cold and he’s been that way for a while. Rising to his feet, he slicks back his heavy quiff when it falls into his eyes. Several strands remain hanging, droplets forming at their tips. It looks beautiful. He looks beautiful.

  He moves closer, and I have time to back up a step, to consider my options, but I waver too long. He’s staring down at me, his eyes narrowed with concern.

  “You okay?” he asks.

  His question slays me. My gaze shifts, searching for something, anything, that will grab my focus because I wasn’t expecting his concern. Anger, maybe. Recriminations, yes. But concern? No way.

  “You wanna look at me for a sec?” His voice is ragged and I gaze into confused brown eyes. “A fucking text, Frankie? That’s all I deserve? A shitty one liner telling me we’re over?”

  “I’m sorry.” And I am. I’m so goddamn sorry. Seeing him here, now, it’s absolutely clear that whatever it is we have, it’s worth keeping. I was crazy to have listened to Josephine’s taunts. “I’m sorry, Mason―”

  “What happened?”

  I shake my head, torn between manic laughter and tears. “It was me and my stupid thoughts! Thinking about you and Nora, and letting someone screw with my head until I couldn’t think straight.”

  He frowns. “That shit again? That’s what this is about? You having doubts? Fuck, I already told you!”

  I’ve said the wrong thing. I can feel the change in him, feel his withdrawal.

  “I know, and you’re right, you’re absolutely right, it’s just ... I had these crazy thoughts going on in my head about how I’m me and you’re you and then this girl at Uni made a bitchy comment about Nora and you ...” I trail off because Mason isn’t looking at me and I’m not even sure he’s listening. He shakes his head as if to clear his mind, and I know I’m not going to like what’s coming my way.

  “I’ve been thinking all kinds of shit and that’s the reason you decided to call time on us? Fuck!” He walks away a few steps, changes his mind, and returns. “I can’t ...” He bites back his words, but they tumble free anyway. “I can’t do this shit. It’s not like I wanted to get involved. You forced your way in, with your fucking grey eyes and your cute smile. You think I want this? You think I wanted to have feelings for you? Fuck no! I don’t do this shit.”

  I hear him. I guess Laura next door does too because her curtains twitch, and Keith is heading our way, his strides long, though unhurried. Carred’s kept him informed of who can and can’t have access to the house and though he’s seen Mason before, he hasn’t seen him quite like this.

  “You okay, Frankie?” Keith’s posture is wary, his stance as wide as his shoulders. With his beaten face, clipped words and muscular build, he could easily be ex-army.

  I’m about to say yes, but Mason doesn’t give me the opportunity.

  “Of course she’s fucking alright. You think I’d hurt her? Who the fuck are you, anyway? One of McGuire’s goons?”

  I can see Keith deliberating over whether to take Mason down. Keith is wider than Mason, but I’ve seen Mason fight and I know he’s fast and mean. Right now, however, he’s freezing cold and he’s shivering. Maybe Keith feels sorry for him because he stands aside and says, “Go home, son.”

  Mason shakes the water from his hair, his fingers ploughing through the wet strands. His hands are shaking. “Already gone,” he says.

  ♥ SEVEN ♥

  Crumbs

  Frankie

  Josephine’s vindictive campaign against me has amplified. Prisha, who’s also taking Criminology, comes up to me and removes a photo from my back. It’s an image of a girl who’s clearly suffering from an eating disorder. Dressed in cotton underwear, her skeleton is clearly visible beneath her skin. Prisha, embarrassed on my behalf, gives me a sympathetic hug.

  I know I don’t look like that. I know this for a fact. There’s flesh on my bones and I have breasts, even if they are miniscule. But that’s not what’s troubling me. What’s troubling me is that Josephine is upping her game. She’s jealous of me and Mason, oblivious to the fact that there is no Mason anymore. I could tell her this in the hope her abuse will cease, but where’s the satisfaction in that? And, who knows, maybe she would continue anyway.

  I haven’t yet told anyone about what’s happening. As far as Nora and Ella are aware, there has only been that single incident in the canteen a couple of weeks ago. They don’t know about the sudden glut of emails in my spam box relating to weight gain products. Or the post I’ve received from a private clinic specialising in eating disorders. To be honest, her bullying is the least of my worries.

  The Police haven’t been able to find my mum and I’m in the middle of my exams, which means most of my free time is occupied with research and revision.

  And then there’s Mason.

  It’s weird how I’ve been able to move on from Sid, and yet with Mason ...

  It’s not like we were in a relationship or anything. As Ella bluntly pointed out the other night, one round of sex and a few brief encounters does not fall within the parameters of a relationship.

  Refusing to self-indulge for a moment longer, I tune back into the endless lecture on Crime and Mental Health. When it’s finished, I pack away my laptop in my Animal backpack and zip it closed. Looking round I realise I’m the last to leave. Everyone else is way ahead of me, queuing to get through the doors. Dumping my coffee cup in the trash can, I aim for the exit. It’s only three o’clock, but that was my only lecture for the afternoon. Time to head home.

  It’s raining, the drops so fine they’re like mist. My hair is soaked within seconds and there’s no point running when home is twenty minutes away. I’m wearing black opaque tights, a pair of loafers and a short black jersey dress that swings around my thighs. At least it did until it became heavy with rain and started sticking to my thighs.

  I make it as far as the High Street, head down, minding my own business, when I hear a car horn. I don’t pay attention, assuming it’s aimed at someone else, but when it sounds again I glance up, curious.

  A white SUV has pulled over to the side of the road. The passenger window is lowered and I can see Mason sitting in the driver’s seat. I can’t hear what he’s saying, but he’s gesturing for me to come over. I walk towards him slowly, taking the opportunity to drink in the sight of him. He pushes the door open for me.

  “Climb in,” he says.

  That’s all he says, just ‘climb in’, as if it’s been days, not weeks, since we last saw one another.

  I don’t think twice. I clamber up and close the door behind me, while Mason presses the control to roll up my window. I can smell his rich, beautiful scent and I inhale slowly, filling my lungs with his unique aroma. He’s wearing black jeans and a black, button down shirt. His quiff is immaculate and he now has a full-on beard. It suits him. It’s dark and thick, and trimmed to perfection. I want to touch it with my fingers. He looks amazing, but the skin beneath his eyes is a little puffy, as if he’s tired.

  He’s watching me with obvious humour. I guess I must look a mess. I don’t know if my mascara is waterproof, but judging by his expression, I guess not. Plus, I know what I look like with wet hair. Pulling down the visor, one glance in its mirror is enough to show that it’s worse than I thought. My blonde curls are dishwater brown and the mascara is definitely not waterproof because a river of black is spiralling down my cheeks. “Bugger!”

  A childish giggle permeates from the back and I spin round to see Mason’s nephew, Josh, perched on a booster seat. His cheeks are scrunched up in a wicked grin that proves beyond doubt that he’s related to Mason. “That’s a naughty word,” he says. Obviously this is the funniest thing he’s heard all day.

  “
Sure is,” Mason agrees.

  “Uh, sorry ...” I mumble.

  “Are you going to punish her?” Josh asks, looking hopeful.

  “You think I should?”

  Josh laughs. “Yeah.”

  Mason’s eyes linger on my mouth. “You heard him. Punishment it is,” he says. He leans closer and I know he’s going to kiss me. His beard is soft and warm against my cold skin, but it’s his mouth I’m concentrating on. It’s only a brief kiss and it’s over too soon. Way, way too soon. But it feels wonderful. Josh is giggling and Mason is grinning, though he’s trying to hold it back. “Let that be a lesson to you,” he admonishes.

  Now it’s my turn to grin, but the bigger mine grows the smaller his becomes. His eyes are serious when he finally looks away. “You heading home?” he asks.

  “Umm, yes.”

  “I’ll drop you off. I’ve just collected Josh from school. My sister, Carolyn, has flu and her husband’s in Tokyo on business. Josh and I are going to see a movie and grab a burger afterwards.”

  “You are? Cool. Which movie?”

  He tells me and I want him to extend an invitation to me, but it’s not forthcoming and I feel like an idiot for even contemplating the idea. Once he pulls out into the traffic I spend the journey conversing with Josh, who tells me he’s the fastest runner in his class and that Jemma Archer has a crush on him. I consider confiding that I have a crush on his uncle, but settle for telling him I can wiggle my ears.

  “No you can’t!” he laughs.

  “Sure I can.” I lift my wet hair and show him. He laughs and touches his own ears.

  “Mine won’t work,” he says and I burst out laughing.

  Mason shoots me a glance, as if he can’t quite figure me out.

  The journey takes fifteen minutes. Normally it would be ten, but the school traffic is slowed further by the rain. I could have walked home almost as fast, but I wouldn’t have received a kiss from Mason or met his nephew.

  When we reach my house Mason doesn’t walk me to my door or ask to see me again. I say goodbye to Josh and wait on Mason to say something. Anything. But he’s silent, that quiet humour shining in his eyes once more. He knows I’m uncomfortable and he’s enjoying it. But that’s fine. I got a ride home and a kiss.

  I’m stupid enough to accept the crumbs he offers.

  ♥ EIGHT ♥

  Harry’s

  Frankie

  Kayla, Ella and Nora are waiting impatiently in the hall. All I have to do is fix my hair and I’m done. But my hair doesn’t want to be fixed. It would rather do its own thing, which is be a frizz-ball for the day. Squirting more product into my palms, I comb my fingers through my hair and pray this does the trick.

  It does. It works. My frizz is sedated and I can go join the girls.

  Yay!

  “About time,” Ella says. She’s gone for the biker babe look. Her retro leather jacket and boots give her an edge that only she can pull off. Nora is dressed in a dark green jumper, skinny black jeans and red converses. I’m wearing black denim shorts, with black opaque tights and black converses. My jumper is red and it has an over-sized hood with fat black pom-poms that hang down the front. I was aiming for the cute, rock chic look, but checking out my reflection in the hall mirror, I think cute is the best I can hope for.

  Kayla is the odd one out. She’s wearing boots with heels and a dark red jersey dress that ends mid-thigh. She looks sexy as ever and I admire her for not changing her style to match ours.

  “Ready?” I ask. The collective sigh I receive is not unexpected.

  “We’ve been ready for ten minutes,” Kayla moans.

  “Well, come on then. What are you waiting for? Let’s go have lunch!”

  I lead the way, pushing my arms through my jacket as I walk down the path. Laura is bringing in shopping from her car, laden down with two bags in each hand.

  “Hi girls. Going anywhere nice?” she puffs.

  “Lunch at Harry’s,” says Ella. “The guys aren’t coming, but they’re paying.”

  “Is there alcohol involved?”

  “Sure is,” Nora says.

  “Have one for me will you?”

  “Will do.”

  There’s not enough room for all four of us to walk side by side on the pavement. Nora and Ella walk up front while Kayla and I traipse behind. Her heels might look great, but they’re not designed for walking fast.

  We haven’t seen each other for a couple of weeks. We’ve both been preoccupied with our exams and now we’re researching for our dissertations. Kayla’s taking Spanish and History of Art. Her father is Spanish and she lived in Spain until she was fourteen, when her parents divorced.

  “How’s things? Have you heard from Jono?”

  “Good, thanks. Jono and I have been texting each other. It’s tough, you know? I miss him and he misses me. He says he’s trying to give up the weed, but I’m not sure how that’s going to work out since his housemates are always on it. He wants to meet, but I don’t know. What if he looks at me with those blue eyes of his and I’m hooked again?”

  I get what she’s saying. Jono might look a little boyish with his outgrown hair and over-sized clothes, but when you look closely, he’s downright gorgeous. “Maybe you should go out on a date or two before you see Jono again. Get a taste of what’s out there.”

  “Ha! And when am I supposed to have time for these dates? I have a twelve thousand word dissertation to finish between lectures.”

  “Tell me about it. I didn’t go to bed until three a.m. I think my first drink at Harry’s will have to be caffeine based.”

  “Damn, why can’t I look as good as you when I miss out on sleep?”

  Our conversation temporarily halts while we concentrate on crossing the road. It doesn’t take long for someone to stop for us. Kayla’s sexy outfit is probably the reason for this, seeing as the guy who stopped can’t stop staring at her. Kayla is oblivious, as always.

  “What about you?” she asks. “You heard from Mason?”

  “Yeah, last week. He gave me a lift when it was raining.” I tell her what happened and she’s instantly angry on my behalf.

  “What the hell was that about? I can’t believe he kissed you but didn’t ask to see you again. What a jerk! Seriously, Frankie, you’re well shot of him!”

  It’s a shame I can’t feel the same way. I still think about him; I still think about his naked body on top of mine, which is ridiculous because it was one time and that was weeks and weeks ago.

  When we get to Harry’s, it’s busy. The tables are thick pine, not a single tablecloth in sight, and the atmosphere is loud and boisterous. Their staff are young and quirky and we’re shown to our table by a purple-haired girl with multiple ear and facial piercings.

  We order two bottles of wine as soon as we’re seated. As Ella said to Laura, Carred and Cooper are paying so we can relax and enjoy.

  Once our food has been ordered, and the wine is flowing, we catch up on what’s been happening. When it’s Nora’s turn she smiles and there’s a pink blush to her cheeks. She looks happy, but it’s more than that. She’s not quite as crazy as she used to be. She looks content.

  “Come on,” I urge. “Give it up. What’s happened?”

  “How do you know something’s happened?”

  “Uh, how about because you can’t stop smiling and you look all dewy?”

  “Dewy?! What the hell is dewy?”

  “Nora! Just tell us already!” I say, rolling my eyes.

  “Give!” Ella says emphatically.

  “Okay, okay! Me and Carred ...”

  She pauses and we groan at the suspense.

  “I’m moving in with him as soon as I finish my degree!”

  It all gets a little over excited from there on in. Heads turn in our direction as we erupt into cheers and clink our glasses as we drink to Nora and Carred, totally caught up in her pleasure. I’ve seen where Carred lives. His house is ugly as sin, at least on the outside, but there’s something about it I
can’t help liking. And once you step inside, it’s a whole different story now that Carred’s moving on with the decorating.

  We order joint starters and I tear into the focaccia, dipping it in the little blue and cream dishes filled with olive oil and balsamic vinegar. My lips are slick with the oil and I’m licking them when my eyes are drawn to a family being seated by the purple haired girl. Their table is two rows down and one column over from ours. I immediately realise my mistake. It’s not a family. It’s Mason, Josh and a woman. Josh is seated next to Mason, who is sitting directly opposite the woman. She’s smiling, obviously happy to see them both and I get the impression it’s been a while. Her fingers stroke Josh’s cheek and she gazes at him with fondness and something akin to regret. Her hand moves on, over to Mason’s, where’s his is resting on the table. They link fingers, leaving them joined as they place their order.

  Fuck!

  Kayla, Nora and Ella are oblivious to my shock, still caught up in Nora’s excitement. There’s nothing for it but to gulp down my wine. Unfortunately, that get’s their attention.

  “Chilli!” I gasp by way of explanation and they fall for it, even though there’s not a single chilli seed in sight.

  “You want some food with your wine?” Nora laughs.

  I laugh too, topping up my glass while they eat, drink and talk. I keep my eyes from straying to Mason’s table, pretending to concentrate on the immediate talk around me, though all I can see are Mason’s fingers linked with hers.

  Shit! I run through all the possibilities and the only one that presents itself is the fact that they know each other, as in they know each other really well, because who the hell links fingers with someone they’ve just met, or someone who’s just a casual acquaintance? This woman means something to Mason. And he means something to her!

  Unsurprisingly, my appetite has vanished. When our main courses arrives I fork through my beautiful carbonara, trying to loosen my throat so I can swallow its lush creaminess.