How We Deal With Gravity (14 page)

“Avery, you know we’re like…in our twenties, right?” Mason
says, his dimples back again. I want to touch them. And now we’re inches apart,
and his bare chest is right here, up against me, pinning me to the door.

“I know, I just…” I start to explain my craziness, but he
stops me.

“I get it. It’s your dad. He scares the crap outta me, too.
He’d kill me, you know?” he says, raising one eyebrow. His body is still right
here—with me…against me. And now, it is all I can think about.

“He wouldn’t kill you, Mason,” I whisper, half trying to be
quiet, and half petrified by the feeling in my chest. Almost as if I’ve lost
control over my own body, my fingers slide up Mason’s side. I graze the
firmness of his stomach with my thumbs, taking my time to trace along the hard
lines of his abs and chest until I’m at his collarbone. I hesitate, the
reason-side of my brain questioning everything I’m doing, but then Mason’s
hands find my wrists, and he holds them in place against him, his feet closing
the inches now between us until I can feel every breath tickle my ear.
 

“You sure about that?” he asks, dragging those words out
slowly across his lips. The sound of his voice is different now. It’s not
flirtatious like before. This sound is deeper, hungrier—it’s suggestive
and luring, and it’s breaking down every defense I have left. My eyes are
trained on his fingers, his grip strong around my arms. That’s the only barrier
I have left, and I know the moment I look into his eyes, I will forever be
lost.

I consider every angle, avoiding the choice I want to
make—the obvious choice—until I no longer can, and I look up at him
to find his eyes waiting. His room is dark, and most of his body is cast in a
shadow, but the moonlight traces his face, illuminating his eyes. I know my
body is shivering, and I know he can feel it, but he’s looking at me like I’m
strong, like I’m his equal. His long lashes fall slowly as he shuts his eyes,
and his forehead moves to rest against mine.

“I’m battling here, Avery,” he says, his voice quiet but
rough. “I want to kiss you so goddamned bad. But I told you I’d wait until you
were ready. And tonight—”

I manage to free one of my hands from his grip, and I press
my fingers to his lips, stopping him from making any more excuses. I linger
there, feeling his lips open barely, his teeth grazing against my skin, and the
sensation forces my eyes closed too. I will never be ready to kiss Mason
Street. I won’t be ready, because I’ve spent a decade training myself to
not
want him. And then, when Adam left
me, he crushed my spirit, and my taste for passion went away with it.

But I feel like
this
Mason
might be my only chance—and I feel like if I don’t let down my guard,
just a little, he may never try. I’ve done regret, and I don’t like it.
 

“Mason, what happened earlier…tonight? That had no effect on
how I feel…” I swallow hard, willing myself to say the last few words, “about
you.”
 

I didn’t think it was possible for Mason’s muscles to get
any tenser, but they do the second I say that sentence. I force myself to live
this moment, to accept it, and I open my eyes slowly to find Mason’s reflecting
everything I’m feeling back at me.

“Avery…” he says, his breath barely able to complete my
name. His hands slide up my shoulders and neck slowly, until they cup my face,
urging my chin higher until our noses are touching. We’re so close…when he
licks his lips, I feel the tip of his tongue barely touch my top lip, and my
entire body is on fire, tingling with desire, and begging for his touch.

Every instinct within me is telling me to run, but I push
that urge down deep—this time, I let my heart have what it wants. When I
feel his warm breath against my lips, I close my eyes tightly in anticipation,
but his kiss doesn’t come—not yet. I feel his fingers slide back into my
hair, his right hand moving to the base of my neck while his forehead is still
against mine.

A tiny breath escapes me, and I know he hears it, because
the second it does, he moves his other hand to my shoulder and slides his
fingers slowly under the strap of my dress, lifting it and dragging the knotted
strings down the crest of my shoulder. His nose traces the line from my jaw
down my neck until his lips find my bare skin, where he leaves his first kiss—soft,
and sweet.

He does the same to the other shoulder, until the only thing
holding up my dress is the tightness of the fabric around my breasts. I feel
his hands begin to move around my body while his lips work their way along my
collarbone, and my pulse is racing with nerves, and want, and fear. He can feel
me shake, and just as his fingertips find the edge of my zipper, his lips hit
my ear.

“I’m going to kiss you, Avery, and it’s going to be the best
fucking kiss you’ve ever had,” he says, his teeth pulling on the edge of my ear
while he breathes. “But I want to feel your body, too. And this dress…as
adorable as it is…is just getting in my way.”

All I can do is nod
yes
.
I know if I try to speak, the words will fail me. I feel a chill along my spine
with every inch Mason lowers my zipper, until his hand glides over the bare
skin of my back. Seconds later, the dress falls in a pool around my feet. I’m
about to step from it and kick it aside, when Mason’s hands lift me to him,
gripping my thighs, until my legs wrap around him on instinct.

I’m nothing in his strong arms while he turns me slowly,
walking back to the mattress on the floor. Along the way, his hands slide
around my hips, and up my ribs, my legs squeezing him tighter to hold myself
up, and his thumbs rub softly over the thin fabric of my cotton bra until they
find the peaks of my nipples. He rests them there for only a few seconds, and I
feel his touch run right through the center of me.

Mason kneels down until my back rests on the mattress and his
body is hovering over mine, his lips yet to fully take mine in. I know it’s
coming, and for a second I have a flash of panic that he’s going to back away
from me and leave me there alone, embarrassed and rejected. But he doesn’t.
Instead, his forehead rests along mine again as he pulls my leg up high around
him, his fingers teasing to go further, but always staying just along the line
of my panties.

Just as I feel I may pass out from all of the near touches,
Mason lowers his lips to mine, his kiss at first soft, but growing with need
every second, until my top lip is trapped between his teeth. His tongue grazes
along my bottom lip, and I reciprocate until Mason can no longer handle it, and
he kisses me hard.

His tongue explores every bit of my mouth, tasting me and
urging me to do the same. As his hands slide up my leg, his fingers wrap around
the band of my panties, and in that moment, my mind is actually begging him to
rip them away. Instead, he continues to trail his touch along my body, stopping
to feel me just long enough and threaten to take our
kiss
a little further. He slides every finger up and over the
hardness of my nipple until I let out a small cry of pleasure, and only then
does he break away, lifting himself just enough to look down at me…breathless.

“I want you, Avery. I want every bit of you—you’re so
goddamned sexy and beautiful and amazing,” he says, his tongue held between his
teeth while his eyes follow the movement of his hands as they push my hair away
from my face and behind my ear. “But I only wanted a kiss tonight. And I know
you said you were ready…”

“Mason, I want this. I want you…” I start only to have him
stop my lips now with his hand.

“God, I want you to want me. And I think a part of you
does…and maybe a month ago…hell, a couple weeks ago? Yeah, that would have been
fine. I would have taken that sign, and torn the rest of your clothes away to
take you completely…not giving a damn about what it meant tomorrow. But here’s
the thing. I kinda give a shit about what this means tomorrow, Avery. And I
know…I know in here,” he says, gripping my hand, and holding it to his chest.
“I know tonight isn’t the night for anything more than kissing. But holy fuck,
was that some kiss.”

My entire body is pulsing with need, but my mind is washed
with relief, because I know Mason is right. And the more it sets in, the more
his words sink in.
Tomorrow.
Mason is
worried about
tomorrow—
with me.
All I can do is smile, softly and genuinely, as I lift my head to kiss his lips
one last time, this time gently.

I don’t even ask if I can stay, and instead, reach my arms
around his body until he’s on his back, letting my head rest in the crook of
his arm. Mason strokes my hair slowly, tucking it constantly behind my
ear—I think in many ways, keeping his hands occupied until he can calm
down himself. And I let him, his lips kissing the top of my head every few
minutes, reminding me where I am, until I drift to sleep.

Mason

His Tahoe was easy to spot. There’s only one decent hotel
this far north, so I took a guess this is where he’d be. I was right. I already
walked the perimeter of his SUV—no car seats or girly shit lying on the
seat. Not that it means he’s alone for sure, but I have a pretty good idea he
made this trip by himself if he’s so concerned about keeping Avery and Max a
secret.

I got here at about five in the morning, just as the sun was
starting to show over the peaks. Cave Creek is eerily quiet this time of
day—most of the drunks from the bars have long passed out and are off the
road; the rich assholes up the hill are not yet out for their jogs. I used to
like to sit out on Ray’s porch at this time. Things were always…
still.

This would have been easier if Adam’s parents still lived in
town. I would have just driven over there and drug his pathetic self out into
the street the moment I arrived. Instead, I’ve been sitting here in the hotel
parking lot for the last hour, spitting sunflower seeds out my window. I hate
sunflower seeds—you have to work too damn hard just to get to anything
worth eating. And they don’t even taste very good. I chuck the rest of the bag
out the window, deciding I’ll be long gone and don’t really care if Adam looks
like a littering asshole.

My adrenaline kicks in fast when I see his door open; I
force myself to breathe in slowly to keep my ass planted here in my seat. He’s
got a small roller-bag trailing behind him. He’s leaving town—I knew he
would. He took care of what he needed, got that off his conscience, and he’ll
let some lawyer deal with the rest.

I’ve flipped on how to play this about a dozen times, but
the closer he comes, the more worried I am that I’m going to miss my chance, so
I push open the door of the Mazda and just see what comes out first.

“Hey! Adam, right? Adam Price?” I can see a smidge of
recognition cast over him as I step closer.

“Do I know you?” he says, standing at the back of his SUV,
and fishing in his pocket for his keys. His preppy sunglasses are dangling from
his shirt collar, and I immediately regret not being able to knock them off his
face.

“Yeah, Mason…Street. We went to…” he gets it now, I don’t
even have to finish.

“Right, right. Street! Yeah, you’re doing that whole
rock star
thing. I heard some song of
yours, I think?” he says.
Fucking poser.
He hasn’t heard any of my shit because there’s nothing to hear unless you come
to a show. He thinks I’m on the goddamned radio because someone from high
school probably posted something about me on Facebook once. I just let him
believe it, whatever…maybe it will give me an edge.

“Yeah, well…so, you moving back to town?” I know the answer
to this question, but I just want to watch him lie. I don’t know why, but
somehow I feel like it will justify being allowed to punch him in the face.

“Ahhh nah. I was just visiting a friend,” he says, almost
like he believes it. “I’m heading out now, back to Florida. Getting
married…you?”

He’s got the hatch open, and part of me wants to bring it
down on his head, but I don’t. I have to be careful, choose my moment. “Just in
the Creek for a few weeks, you know…in between gigs, touring.”

He closes the hatch again, and he’s tossing his keys in his
hands, so disinterested in anything other than himself.

“So you’re getting married, then. Huh…that’s great!” I fake,
my insides about to boil over.

“Yep. She’s a single mom, kind of a sad story. But I love
her kids, you know?” Everything about what he says makes me want to hit him
harder, and I don’t know what
one
thing
is the worst. I’m so mad, I actually start to laugh, and pretty soon, I’m
laughing so hard I have to bend forward from my stomach cramping.

“What’s funny?” he asks. Dude’s so fucking clueless about
what’s coming at him next.

“Ohhhh, nothin’ man. It’s just…you. You are such a goddamned
fucking phony!” I speak through my laughter, and I’m pretty sure I sound like a
crazy man—exactly what I’m going for. The expression on Adam’s face melts
from someone having a great day—to a total nightmare—in about a
tenth of a second, and that’s my cue.

I’ve got him pushed against the back of his SUV in seconds.
His eyes are wide as hell, looking from side-to-side for someone to help, and
the fact that he’s sweating bullets right now, the moisture literally beading
up on his forehead in front of my eyes, has me so fucking happy.

“Wanna know what’s funny, Adam? I know a single mom, too.
And her story?
Oooooph
—it’s
really
sad. Strange thing, though, Adam.
You know what makes her story so absolutely fucked up?” he shakes his head
quickly, and I swear I think I smell pee dripping down his leg. “You, Adam. You
make her story sad. You’re an embarrassing man—if I can even call you
that. I’m sure you remember, but you have a kid. A
great
kid, not that you’d know, because you haven’t seen him since you
found out that sometimes being a parent’s fucking hard work!”

“Who sent you?” he shouts, his paranoia kicking in now.

“Nobody
sent
me
Adam. Like I said, I’m just in town…in between gigs. Taking care of some shit.
But I know Ray. And I know Avery. And I’ve…
been
around…heard
a few things. And I don’t like what I’m hearing, Adam,” I grit
through my teeth, my forearm still pressed into his chest, all of my weight
pinning him in place.

“So we’re going to make a slight change in plans. Number
one,
you
are going to get on that
plane and go back to Florida and never show your face here again. Two, you are
going to write Avery a letter, and in that letter, you are going to tell her
about what a small human being and giant piece of shit you are. You’re going to
grovel and apologize and tell her you’re going to tell your fiancé about Max.
And you’re going to do that, too. You’re going to do that because real men,
Adam? We don’t lie. We fuck up…we fuck up a lot. But we don’t lie.”

He’s nodding at me, and I ease up a tiny hair when I realize
he’s gasping to breathe. Then I continue. “You’re going to write another
letter. This one is going to be for Max. But you’re going to send it to Avery,
and she gets to decide when…and even
if
your
son ever gets to read it.”

“And finally, you’re going to keep depositing money into
Avery’s account. Not just because she deserves it—she deserves ten times
the amount you give her—but because Max deserves to get something out of
you, too. You’re Max’s dad, and everyone knows it, but you don’t get to be his
father.
So you just go do the right
thing, tell everyone the truth, and then stay the hell in Florida.”

I give him one good shove as I step away and walk back
around to the driver’s side of my car, but before I get there, I stop. “And Adam?”
I turn to look at his face, and I know he’s not moving from that spot for a
good hour. “You better do what I said, because I’m a crazy motherfucker, and
I’ll find you. Have a good flight.”

When I smile and slip on my own sunglasses, just to mock him,
I feel satisfied. I didn’t hit him. I wanted to, but once I started laying out
all his dirty laundry? Pointing out every failure? I knew I didn’t need to.
Sometimes, holding up a mirror to someone’s face is a lot more effective than
kicking their teeth in. Though, just
one
kick
might have been nice.

It seemed like an easy enough thing, when the idea popped in
my head in the middle of the night, lying there looking at Avery, so peaceful
and small and fragile. I’d hunt down Adam, put him in his place, and make sure
he never hurt her again. She’s a spitfire, yes—that tiny body can muster
quite a punch when it needs to. But underneath it all, she’s so damned
breakable. I know she hates when I call her
Birdie,
but looking at her, asleep on my arm, her tiny lips barely apart, whispering
breath…she’s like a hummingbird. Like a beautiful, precious hummingbird, and
all I want to do is make sure she gets to the next day, and then the next, and
then…

I’m falling for her. And it’s making my head all fucked up
because I’m going to rehearse with the band tonight, and when I came back to
the Creek I had only one mission—get this music shit straightened out,
get back on the road with the boys, and cut a new record deal. But then Avery
happened. And now, I have this
other
mission,
and it sort of hopscotched right in front of the music one the second my lips
hit hers. But I don’t know…I’m not ready to give up on the other things either.
And Avery is…
hard.

It’s late morning, and I know she woke up alone. I hate
that. I bet she has a million and half horrible thoughts running through her
head right now about me, but I had to slip out of there without waking her. She
would have stopped me from talking to Adam. And it needed to be done. If not
for her, for me—my anger over what he did was consuming me.

The smell of bacon hits my nose the second I open the back
kitchen door, and the crackling sounds like distant thunder. Ray’s back is to
me; he’s standing at the stove, frying up a batch, grease bubbling over the
edges of the pan with every snap and pop.

“Making a BLT. You want one?” he says, not even turning
around.

“Can you make mine a BL, hold the T?” I say, grabbing a beer
from the fridge and popping the top off to drop it into the trash.

“You got it. Coming right up,” he says, tossing two more
pieces of bread in the toaster. I keep pulling out my phone, trying to think of
a way I can ask Ray for Avery’s number, some reason I would need it, but my
heart literally races to the speed of a Ducati every time I try to speak, so I
just put it away.

“Here, bacon’s still hot, so careful,” Ray says, sliding a
plate my direction, and sitting down with his own across from me. “I’m heading
over to Dusty’s after this. You wanna ride?”

“Nah, that’s okay. I’m headin’ over to Ben’s for a while
this afternoon. Rehearsing for Friday,” I say, talking while I chew.

Ray just nods, taking a second giant bite out of his
sandwich. He keeps looking at me, then back at the bacon and bread in his hand.
I can tell he’s got something on his mind, but I never know if it’s going to be
a lecture about the guys or just some interesting thing he heard on the news.
Ray’s really the only father figure I’ve ever known, and frankly, sometimes the
man makes me nervous.
 

I can’t take the stress of his off and on stare, so I cram
the last quarter of my sandwich in my mouth, and take my plate over to the sink
so I can run upstairs, grab my shit and head to Ben’s.

“Hey, Mace…wanna tell me what Avery was doing leaving your
room at about six this morning?”

Fuuuuuuuuuck.

I spare a look over my shoulder, and Ray’s still nibbling at
his food, taking his time. I thought I was out of the woods when Avery was gone
when I got back. I knew if Ray saw how we were—
together—
he’d know something was up. I’m still not looking
forward to that—that first interaction after you’ve been incredibly
intimate with someone, especially when you have feelings for her, and there’s a
ton of shit that’s still unsaid. But I’d sprint over to Avery’s college right
now, pull her out of class, and have a long sit-down talk about our feelings
and what happened last night if it would get me out of this moment right here
in the kitchen with her dad. This moment…feels like it might kill me.

“What’s a’matter there, Mason? Cat got your tongue?” he
asks, his temper simmering just under the surface. I say one word out of place,
I’m pretty sure he’s going to slide that chair back into my shin and turn
around to knock out my teeth.

“Ray…it’s not…it’s not,” I’m about to say
what you think.
But I don’t know
what
Ray thinks. Hell, I don’t know what
I
think! I just know that what
happened with Avery last night wasn’t about me
getting a piece
. And it’s not just a one-time thing. And it’s all I
can think about.

“It was a long night Ray, and she needed someone…to talk to.
We
talked,
” I am such a goddamned
liar.

Ray slides his chair out and walks over to the trashcan
where he leisurely slides the crumbs from his plate. He is eerily calm, and I
swear I feel like I’m in some horror movie where the dude is going to jump at me
with a knife at any second. I’m careful to keep a good distance between us as
he walks closer to rinse his dish.

He hasn’t responded to me, not even with as much as a nod or
a smile. Nothing. I’d guess that he didn’t hear me, but I know he did. We’re alone,
in a quiet kitchen. Part of me thinks he likes watching me squirm like this.
Fine—let him make me squirm. Whatever it takes to keep him from knocking
me on my ass.

“When was your last long-term relationship, Mason?” he says,
still not looking me in the eyes. This is awful, and with every word he says,
the more miserable this conversation becomes. But it’s inevitable; at least, it
is if I ever want to kiss Avery again. And I do. I’ve never wanted anything
more. But this answer I’m about to give isn’t going to help.

“I don’t know…high school, I guess,” I say, knowing that the
longest I was with any one girl in high school was about a month—and that
was only because she didn’t want to break up before we won homecoming king and
queen.

“High school,” he nods to himself. He chuckles lightly under
his breath, shutting his eyes and shaking his head while he dries his hands on
the towel. “High school, Mason. You were a kid. And I gotta tell you
something—high school doesn’t count.”

I don’t respond, because he’s right.

“Mason, Avery was married. And the guy walked out on her.
When she needed a man, he turned out to be a boy,” his eyes are on mine now,
and my stomach feels like it’s full of rocks.