Louder Than Words (Fall For Me) (6 page)

CHAPTER 16

As I said, the wanting to make
Clark drool was totally a pride thing—on many levels. One being
,
Kirstin seemed sort of smug that she was dating the guy I
used to be quite crazy about. Two, the guy I used to be quite crazy about was
now dating a “sort of” friend that was smug about dating him. Stuff like that
sort of made my claws come out.

So, though I felt sort of creepy
asking Mason for the date—I couldn’t help myself. I did it. Because while
I knew my dress would make
Clark
drool, I knew Mason would make
Kirstin
drool.

And he did … big time.

We showed up at the party and Kirstin’s
eyes lit up. I swear
,
they turned all sparkly and
me-likey
.

Ha!

“This is my
boyfriend
, Mason,” I told her and Clark with a smile, snagging
Mason’s large warm hand in mine. But then,
WHOA!!!
H-o-l-y Smokes!! Unexpected sparks and tingles shot through my body.
Sparks
and tingles!! I swear.
Just from holding Mason’s hand!

Um,
what???

Wait,
no!! No, no, no!! What the—???

The intoxicating sensation raced up
and down my freaking insides. Totally wreaking havoc with my heart and concentration.
I mean,
hello
. Who expects that?
Flippin’ sparks and tingles (!!!)—
just
from
holding a boy’s hand? I’d held tons of boys’ hands. Oodles. Gobs.
But never this.
Never,
EVER
this.

Mason’s eyes narrowed and his lips
parted slightly—like maybe he felt it too. Or probably he was just curious
by my over the top reaction to his simple touch. You know, my sudden ragged
breathing. (Panting.)

Whatever. I tried ignoring it all—the
tingles … and the tickling in my stomach, and the pounding in my
heart—all of that stuff. I was on a mission.
A mission
that did
not
involve tingles
or pounding hearts over
Mason’s
touch.
It was a mission to save my pride. That was it.

Yet suddenly, the night got even
hotter. Fast.

Mason shocked me by totally playing
his part to the hilt.

“Hi,” he said to the dazzled couple,
putting his strong, yummy
Mason
arms around me (!!!).
(He
never
did that
before—ever!) Instantly I was jealous of Liza and all of his other many,
many girlfriends. Being in Mason’s hot arms—feeling his warm, tantalizing
breath heat up my neck, and his soft, tempting lips brush absently against my
now feverish and ultra-sensitive skin—oh, my gosh! It was total heaven.

I swear—my knees buckled and
I practically swooned at his feet. I kid you not—swooned!! (And I’m so
not
a swooner. I swear!)

Meanwhile, (while I was off in
La-la land over Mason’s heavenly embrace) Mason chatted with the love-birds flawlessly,
being completely, totally all boyfriend-like—running his rough but
oh-so-divine-and-gentle hands through my hair, and down my arms—so perfectly
acting like we were the perfect, happy, so-in-love couple, and he was such the
enamored boyfriend, unable to take his hands off his alluring, mesmerizing
girlfriend. (Me!!!)

Kirstin’s eyes were glued to Mason
the whole time he talked—to his hands in my hair and his lips on my head,
and his left cheek’s adorable dimple that was so incredibly breathtakingly
amazing that it brought all girls—
all
girls—to their knees.

With a beguiling smile
Mason
answered Kirstin’s inquiring unending questions, wrapping
his heaven-inducing arms around my waist as he did so.

Kirstin eyed him like candy and he
pulled me in even tighter. So close!! So knowing how to masterfully play his
part to the aching, yearning fullest—play the adoring boyfriend who lives
and breathes only for me—his goddess-like girlfriend that he can’t keep
his hands off of.

He was perfect.
Beyond
perfect. (Gave me goose
bumps and wave after wave of unexpected delighted shivers and trembling
butterflies and heart-stopping thrills.)

But Kirstin and Clark? Not so much.
So not perfect.

I don’t know if it was because they
felt they needed to show us up, or Mason’s attention got them all whipped up
and wild, or they are just absolutely inappropriate. But they suddenly started
totally making-out—right in front of us—gag!

Mason looked from them to me like,
Um
...

“Hey, this is our song,” he said,
his eyes cutting to them again for a moment—in case they were able to
hear over their loud lip mackin’ and moaning. “I’m going to go dance with my
girl.”

He led me away from the
tongue-wrestling couple, probably realizing my heart had stopped. And I
couldn’t breathe.

Mason practically held me up,
gently, carefully leading me over to the dance area. Without a single word, he took
me in his arms again (heaven!). Instantly, the haunting (traumatic) scene of
Clark kissing my ex-cabin-mate dissolved as my cheek met Mason’s inviting,
chiseled chest.
Purrr!!
My heart slammed
against my ribcage. Hard. Then started pounding wild. Not because of the
backstabbing couple, but because of my dance partner—Mason.

Mmmm.
I was truly in heaven … and I was freaking out. I mean, what was going on?
Mason’s mere touch practically had my skin on fire. And the way he held
me—so perfect and possessive—it took my breath away.

Still, we danced—sensual, and
slow and perfect—because I couldn’t bear to take my cheek off his hard,
firm chest. Couldn’t
possibly
bear
it. Though his arms around me like that
was
making my
breathing so hard and my head say,
Uh-oh
.
And then soon it was screaming,
“Run
away,
Summer
! This was only to keep your pride, not
lose your heart
!—
especially not to MASON who
LIVES in your house and kisses a new girl every weekend.”

Still, I didn’t move one tiny inch
away from Mason. Only clung to him, hypnotized by his strong, delightful hold. Reveling
in it.

HOWEVER …

Annoyingly soon Clark and Kirstin
were slow dancing beside us. Close, because the place was packed.

They were still making out.
Groan!

That
gave me the power to move.

“Um, I have to go to the bathroom,”
I told Mason.

It was a lie. I just needed to get
away from them—and him.

I felt sick. I mean
,
they were in love—or something. And
me and Mason
were just faking it. Well, he was faking it. I
wasn’t sure what
I
was doing
anymore. That was the problem—well, a huge portion of it.

I just needed to get away from the
situation for a moment so I could get a grip. And breathe.

But Mason followed me outside.

“Are you okay?” he asked. He gently
ran his hand down my arm—giving me goose bumps.

Ugh! What was happening???

I stepped away from him. “No. I’m
not. Can we go home?”

He shrugged, gazing at the distance
I’d put between us, looking perplexed by it. “Sure. It’s your party.”

“Thanks for taking me,” I
whispered, my voice hitching a little, “—and being my date.”

He took my hand in his again, being
supportive. He grinned impishly, “Sure. That’s what brothers are for, right?”

I laughed. Because it was so messed
up. “Um, I don’t think so.”

“No?” He gave my hand a gentle
squeeze, his lips twitching up at the corners—so not missing the irony.
“Oh, I thought I read that in the handbook.”

CHAPTER 17

We have to ride the bus home from Kirstin’s
party—’cause, you know, we’re not quite sixteen yet, not old enough to
drive. When we get off the bus, it’s about a two-mile walk home. I’d be nervous
about that, because it’s nighttime and dark out and everything, but I’m with
Mason and he’s huge. So any scary guys had just better watch out—’cause
Mason can clobber them. And he’d be happy to do it. He likes to fight.

As we’re walking home, we come
across Jake from school—he’s with two big guys that eye me like I’m what
they’re out looking for.

I hide behind Mason while Jake
tells him about a party that one of the guys from the hockey team is having. I
so don’t want to go.
At all.
But I can tell Mason
does. The guy is his good friend. And Mason had just gone to a party for
me—one where he’d had to fake like my boyfriend. I owed him. Big time.

“You want to stop by the party?”
Mason asks me once Jake and his thugs finally move on their way—though
they keep looking back at me. Making me want to crawl into Mason’s shirt and
hide. Instead, I try to concentrate on what Mason’s saying—his wanting to
coax me to go to the party.

“Um …” I can’t really tell him no …
can I?

He nudges me playfully, knowing I
don’t like the guys on the hockey team—none of them but him. (Look, I was
almost thrown into a van. Big guys scare me.) “We don’t have to go.” He messes
up my hair playfully. “You can say no.”

I bite my lips together, knowing I
should be a bigger, braver person. But I really can’t stand the hockey guys.
Still, I find myself saying, “Whatever. They’re your friends.”

He tilts his head like, really?
You’ll come?

“We’ll just stay a minute,” he
promises. “We’ll just say hi, and then leave.”

But of course when we get to the party
we can’t just leave. Everyone has to chat with Mason—Mason is cool. And
loved.
By thugs.
And party girls. And everyone.

I see one too many girls hanging on
him and I go outside. No one’s out front. They’re all either in the house or in
the backyard playing football. Or soccer. Seriously, both games are going on.

I sit on the front steps and try
not to think about Clark and Kirstin kissing.
Or the many,
many girls that I saw hanging on Mason in the house.
I feel alone.
And lonely.
But I know Mason will be out soon. He doesn’t
really like me at parties. ‘Cause he feels obligated to keep an eye on me. I
don’t think he likes to be a babysitter any more than I like having one. Yet he
always invites me to his many, many parties. Well … he used to. I can’t really
say he does that anymore.

But anyway, here I am sitting on
the front steps—trying not to think about earlier tonight when Mason’s
strong arms and gentle touch had made me all gooey. I mean, what was that
about? Sure, I’d had a weird little tiny crush on him forever. But it had all
been fantasizing and completely safe—‘cause it had always, always,
always
only been in my head. So
this stuff was scary.
Because this was for real stuff.

Of course, I guess seeing him at
this party helps. Brings reality crashing back down. Mason isn’t someone for me
to do anything more than dream about—and really I shouldn’t even do that.
Duh.

So, I’m getting lost in my sensible
thoughts when suddenly there’s this guy, Drew. He sits down beside me.

“Hi Summer,” he says. I can smell
beer on his breath. Gag.

I used to think Drew was cute …
until I dated him. Now I think he’s a total loser dirt-bag. So, I’m not exactly
pleased that he’s now sitting next to me, breathing on me.

“You kind of hurt my feelings when
you broke up with me.” He says this with a completely straight face, like he
wasn’t a cheating scum-ball. Then he adds with a dopey grin, “I never got a
goodbye kiss.”

Okay, I admit it—I have
issues with guys. I do. I admit that. I date. A
lot
. Not for long though. Ever. I go through guys like Kleenex. Use
them up and throw them away. (Those are Blake’s words, not mine.) I don’t ever
intend to do that to guys though. Ever. I just have trouble finding the right boy.
Good guys are hard to find. I mean, good ones that aren’t semi-related to me.

My mom has the same trouble. (Well
not the related part … I hope.) But so, I don’t hold out much hope for finding
“true love.” But I do yearn for it. So … I’ve made some mistakes. Well, a
lot
of mistakes. Drew is definitely one
of them.

He scoots closer to me, looking
hopeful. His voice goes husky, “Can we have that kiss now?”

“No way.” I push his smelly beer
face away from me—semi-teasing, but really not teasing at all. I want the
guy gone. Away. Now.

“Come on, Summer.” He grabs onto my
wrists, suddenly loosing any playfulness.

Chills slither down my spine.

Heaving and gasping, I try
squirming away from him, but he’s a big guy. The more I try to fight him, the
tighter he holds on to me. Instantly, he’s kissing my neck, then my mouth. Everything
inside me twists with fear. I push and kick, but it’s doing nothing.

Nothing!!!

And it’s like I’m being shoved into
a van all over again. I can’t breathe.

But suddenly—Drew is thrown
off me.
Violently hard.
By Mason.
Mason growls, and starts wailing on Drew, slugging the lights out of him.

Drew yelps, then starts blathering
in between Mason’s punches, “She overreacted—I swear. I was just kissing
her—that’s it!”

Mason kind of picks him up, and
throws
him. “Didn’t seem like she wanted
you kissing her.” He starts wailing on him again.

Whoa! He’s mad.

I try to get out of the way of
their scuffling, but I’m still breathing hard and seeing black and somehow I
stumble down the porch stairs—like crash down it and splat and land with
a huge, painful, stars-seeing whack on my head.

I don’t exactly pass out, exactly …
but the rest of it’s a blur. Mason stops beating on Drew and races as quick as
lightening down to me. His eyes are so full of concern.

He gently picks me up, cradling me
in his arms. “Are you alright?”

I nod, feeling like a dork. But my
heart is pounding and it’s only half because I’m scared to death at what had
just happened, Drew turning all psycho and forcing gross kisses on me. But my
heart is also pounding at Mason’s tenderness and the great care he takes as he
carries me home.
All
the way home.

Mom’s on a date—so not around
when we get to my house, which is good since this may not look so good—me
having to be carried home from a party.

Mason sets me down on the couch and
gently looks over my injuries. Sucking in his breath at the gash on my head. I
know he feels guilty. His eyes wash over me and I know he hates himself for
leaving me alone at the party.

“I’m so sorry, Summer,” he says for
the hundredth time, his hands running through my hair in this gentle,
I-want-to-take-away-your-pain kind of way.

“I’ll get you some pain killers,”
he tells me, and that sounds good, because wow. I hurt. All over.

He carries me to my bed, then comes
back with pain medicine that the doctor gave him when he had his latest hockey
injury.

“I’m only going to give you half a
tablet,” he says. “This stuff is pretty strong. I mean like, it’s going to
knock you out.”

That sounds good too. Sleep.
With no pain.

He grinds up the half-of-tablet into
a glass of soda for me since he knows I hate to swallow pills—even half
ones (because it’s really big). Then he coaxes me to drink the medicine
concoction—the whole thing. It takes awhile. He keeps saying, “Drink a
little more,
Summer
.” Then he reminds me, “A little
more.”

He’s worried for me—I can
tell. He looks at my scratches and bruises and winces—every time.

“The medicine’s probably going to
work on you really fast,” Mason says. “Since you never take anything
medication-wise. And you weigh, nothing.”

“Thank you for saving me,” I
whisper, the medicine already working. I feel drowsy.
And
woozy.
And sort of … good.

He gently brushes the hair out of
my face. “You’re welcome.”

“Can I do something?”

He leans back. “Probably.”

I edge towards him and press my
lips against his—
Mmmm
. His
mouth is so warm and soft.

For a moment, it seems he’s kissing
me back. A moment. Then he gently pushes me away and runs his hands through my
hair. “Anything but that,” he says softly.

“Why?”

“Because … you’ll be embarrassed in
the morning. Lay down. Go to sleep.”

“Lie down with me.”

“No.”