Blackbird (a Sometimes Never novella) (8 page)

      I grasp handfuls of hair and tug.

      “I thought I’d surprise him a couple weeks ago. I went over to his campus. I just needed to see him… He didn’t know I was there, so I watched him, waiting for him to notice me.” I shake my head and fist my hands. “He was laughing and talking. All these people—all these girls were surrounding him. I realized that he could have any one of those girls. Hell, Guy, I think he could have all of them. And all I could think is
why me
? Why would he be with me when he could have these beautiful, normal girls that don’t hurt themselves? Girls his mom would like. That Kellin wouldn’t be afraid of. That he could have a good life with.”

      Guy clears his throat as he regards me. “Mason loves you. He wants
you
. He doesn’t want other girls.”

      “Yeah, but why? I feel like he’s only with me because he has this need to save everyone.”

      “No,” Guy says, his voice harsh. “He was head over heels before he knew about your demons. Jesus. Why are you trying to kill this?”

      I gape at him, speechless.

      “Seriously, Hope. This is such bullshit. You drop everything and everyone to move out here for him and then you pull this? Give the man some credit. He’s been with you for a year—” His eyes go wide with realization and I duck my head.

      “You dumbass. Get the hell up. We need to fix this now.”

      I shake my head. “It’s too late. We can’t go back from this.”

      “Shut up. You don’t get to talk anymore. I am so mad at you.”

      The door cracks open and I’m expecting to see Chase, but my gaze locks on Mason’s green eyes and my entire body trembles.

      “Chase called me,” he explains softly.

      “Ah, good,” Guy says. “Get over here. You two need to talk.” He stands up and as he passes Mason, he pauses. “If you can manage to not murder her, I’ll buy you dinner. If not, I’ll see you in ten to twenty.”

      Mason cocks a brow and reluctantly lowers himself beside me.

      “Hey,” he utters.

      “Hey.”

      Guy closes the door behind him and Mason and I sit in silence for a moment as I try to gather my thoughts. I inhale until my chest burns and let it out in a rush. My body won’t stop shaking and I close my eyes.

      “Is is too late for us?” I ask him.

      “No,” he answers immediately and I open my eyes. He’s watching me and there’s something in his gaze that makes my heart flutter.

      I lean forward, needing to feel the soft warmth of his lips. I mean for it to be a quick kiss, just something to give me the courage to say what I need to say, but Mason has other ideas.

      His hands grip my neck almost painfully, holding my mouth to his, and his tongue brushes over my lips. When I take a surprised breath, he uses it to his advantage, slipping inside and deepening the kiss. I shiver and a sound bubbles up my throat. 

      Mason growls and his mouth moves against mine fiercely.

      “Do you still love me?” he whispers into my lips.

      “Yes,” I moan.

      “Then it’s never too late.”

17 Mason

One year later

      Because our one year anniversary was spent apart—I still count it even if we were kind of broken up—I’ve made sure that our second anniversary will be memorable in a much better way.

      I fill our apartment with tulips because Hope isn’t into roses—she insists they smell funny. Bringing in pieces of our first date, I light candles, and set our dinner of mushroom ravioli on the table. For desert, Oreos.

      Just to make her smile, I leave a trail of Skittles leading from the door to the table just a few feet away. Then I put on her favorite love song playlist.

      When I hear her key in the door, I glance around quickly and take a deep breath. 

     
This is it
.

      I’m met by a huge grin. She lets her eyes drift through the room before returning them back to me.

      “Happy anniversary,” I choke.
Shit
. My hands won’t stop shaking. My knees are even trembling and that just pisses me off. I need to quit being such a pussy.

      “Are you okay?” she asks, moving toward me with concern. “You’re really pale.” She straightens suddenly, placing her hand on my arm. “Are you shaking?”

      I grab her face and pull her into a long kiss. As her taste touches my tongue, I feel myself relax. Her body molds to mine, her leg sliding up to lock around mine. I love that I can still affect her like this.

      We break apart and I grin at her. “I’m perfect,” I murmur. Guiding her into the chair, I brush her hair back so I can fully see her face. “I made you dinner.”

      “Did you put vegetables in it?”

      I nod. “Mushrooms.”

      “Freaking fungus.” She beams at me. “Happy anniversary, Mason.”

      “Two years,” I say.

      She tilts her head to the side, studying me. “Two years,” she agrees. I sit down across from her, but I can’t eat. I’m pretty sure I’d just choke on it, or puke.

      Hope narrows her eyes and crosses her arms on the table. “Okay. What’s wrong? Is this the year
you
freak out?”

      I bark out a laugh. She has no idea. “No. Not freaking out.”

     
Liar. Liar. Liar
.

      “Okay… Well everything looks great. And just so we’re clear, I’m totally eating those Skittles, floor or not.”

      I laugh again, the sound full of the nerves I can’t shake.

      “All right,” Hope hisses. She stands up, placing her hands on her hips. “What’s going on? You look like you’re dying over there.” She takes a shaky step toward me. “Cheese and rice, Mason. I’m the only one around here who is allowed to get crazy. If there’s two of us that’ll just be too much insanity in one room. We’re on a budget—I can’t afford straightjackets.”

      I give her a crooked smile and stand up. God damn I love this girl. “I have a gift for you.” I take the little papers from my pocket and grab her hand. As I slide the Starburst wrapper ring onto the finger of her right hand, I take a breath, holding it for a moment. “This is what I was going to give you last year, but… Well you know.”

      She smiles sheepishly. “Yeah. I know.” With a twist of her wrist, she admires the silly paper ring.

      I lower myself to one knee, and her eyes widen. Her left hand is trembling as badly as my entire body is when I lift it toward me. “And this is what I got you this year,” I whisper as I slip the small diamond engagement ring past her knuckle. I gaze up at her, holding her blue eyes. “I’ve loved you ever since the moment you kicked Christian Dunkin’s ass. I’ve never stopped and I never will. I know this is early—we’re still in school—but I figure if I ask now, that gives you time to freak out, and maybe by our third anniversary we’ll be able to make the engagement official. I guess it’s typical to be engaged for a year or two, so by our fifth anniversary, we’ll have graduated, you’ll be ready, and we can get married.”

      She lowers herself in front of me. “You’ve thought this all out.”

      I nod. “Pretty much, but it’s all subject to change. If you want to go to Vegas tonight, I’m game.”

      I’m still shaking. She still hasn’t said yes. Of course, she’s still here, so there’s that.

      “I don’t need to wait until next year to make the engagement official. We can do that now. But you’re right, a wedding better wait until after graduation. I don’t want to piss your mother off again.”

      I freeze, my eyes flicking over her face. “Is that a yes?”

      She laughs softly, her gaze now glossy. “It’s a hell yes.”

      I tug her into me and our mouths meet fiercely. “I can agree to that. We can forgo the whole graduation party and just throw one hell of a reception.” 

      I run my palms down her sides. She moans and shoves my shirt up. I pull back and raise my hands, helping her get it over my head. She reaches for hers and I stop her, shaking my head.

      “No,” I utter hoarsely. I look down at her Beatles tee shirt and grin. “Leave that on, Blackbird.”

      “Kiss me,” she sighs.

      And so I do.

About the Author

      Cheryl McIntyre is a mother of three. When she isn’t chasing kids, she enjoys reading and listening to music. If there isn’t a book or an iPod in her hand, she must be writing or sleeping. She is also the author of Sometimes Never, and the paranormal romance, Dark Calling.

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