Louder Than Words (Fall For Me) (7 page)

CHAPTER 18

It’s morning and I’m sitting at the
kitchen table eating cereal with Mason. We’re just sitting
together—eating. He’s reading a sports magazine. And I’m just reading the
cereal box—that’s all I can handle. My head still hurts from my fall.

Last night is hazy—at best. I
was woozy after the fall, then completely out of it after the pain medicine.

Suddenly though, it hits
me—out of nowhere. “Did I
kiss
you
?!
”

My question makes Mason stop eating.
He looks up from his magazine. His eyes flicker to mine.

His answer is a slow nod.

Oh
man
.

Heat and blood fill my cheeks—and
whole body. “Did you kiss me back?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

His jaw muscles tick. “Because
you’re my sister. And that would be wrong … and gross.”

“Oh.” All the air is knocked out of
me. I swear. I slink back in my chair, turning away from him. “Okay,” I
whisper. “Right.”

The thing is, I was starting to
remember last night a little clearer—remember all of it. The dancing. And
the way he made me feel wrapped in his arms.

“Summer. You were drugged and hazy
… and drugged.”

I look up at the ceiling, then back
at him. “Did you like it?”

I ask—have to
know—because it sure didn’t seem like that at the party—that my
kiss would be gross to him.
Far from it.

When he doesn’t answer, only stares
at me, I ask again. “Did you like my kiss?”

“Summer, don’t do this.”

“Did you
want
to kiss me back?”

His jaw muscles tick. But his
answer is another slow nod.

Tingles gush through me.

“Do you want to kiss me now?”

“Stop,
Summer
.”

I lean towards him, run my fingers
through his hair and he closes his eyes. I kiss his lips softly and I hear him
moan, just slightly, but he sounds tortured … or tantalized.

It’s shocking that this is
Mason—big, tough Mason—and his lips are so soft.
And
wonderful.
I’ve never felt such perfect, kissable lips before. Never.
Not in my whole, entire life of kissing. It’s just like in my dreams. Only …
Mason doesn’t kiss me back.
At all.
He sits motionless
… as though he’s stopped breathing. But I can feel his heart pounding in his
chest, pounding hard.

But he
Doesn’t
.
Kiss. Me. Back.

Reluctantly, I pull my hands out of
his soft hair and look up at him curiously. “Did you like that?”

He licks his lips, making them
glisten, then nods his head, so slight.

Heat rips through my body and I’m
completely breathless—because what I see in his eyes is pure hunger. It
makes my insides tremble and my brain melt to goo.

Mason cups my chin. My heart pounds
and my pulse thumps and I’m seeing stars. “I liked it a lot, Summer,” he
whispers in my ear. “But is that really what you want?”

CHAPTER 19

Up in my room, I pace. I know I’ve
crossed a line. I’m a weird-o idiot. I kissed my brother. Okay, he’s not really
my brother. He’s not even my stepbrother. But in a way he’s more than that. In
a way, Mason is my everything—my protector, my brother,
my
friend. And I blew it. I kissed him. Kissed him when he
didn’t even want me to. And he didn’t kiss me back.
Because
it was wrong to do it.
And I’m an idiot.

I don’t even know why I did it. Was
I just curious to see what Mason’s lips would feel like? Was I “experimenting”?
Or was it more just because he said it would be gross to kiss me? Maybe I had
to prove to him that it wouldn’t be—that sounds like me.
Only … yeah.
He didn’t kiss me back. So maybe it
was
gross to him.

Whatever.

What I’m really worrying
about—really and truly—is that maybe (
maybe!!
) I kissed him just because I wanted to make sure I could
wield some sort of power over big, tough Mason. Work him up a bit. Geez, I sure
hope it wasn’t that. I hope, I hope, I
hope
.

Mason means way too much to me to
play around like that … only is that what I did?

I scrambled up from the kitchen
table as soon as Mason had asked me if that’s really what I wanted—him to
like my kiss. He had gotten a phone call right at that moment, been distracted,
and I bolted up to my room.

Now I’m pacing. And shaking. What
have I done? I’ve ruined everything! I can’t go around kissing Mason. That was
so much a mistake.
A crazy, crazy mistake.

CHAPTER 20

Mason

It took everything I had inside me
to keep from kissing
Summer
back. I knew if I
did—if I let myself kiss her, I’d never stop. And I knew she didn’t want
that. I had no idea what she actually wanted, but it wasn’t that.

Summer was too pretty for
her own
good. Too tempting. She drove guys wild—and
that was when she didn’t even try.

But that kiss—oh
my gosh
. Summer didn’t know what she was doing to
me—she had no idea. If she hadn’t stopped when she did, I was going to
tangle my hands in that soft blond hair of hers and kiss her until we both
couldn’t breathe. Man, I couldn’t even breathe as it was. I’d sat there in some
sort of heaven in hell. I mean, the kiss had been heaven, but keeping my hands
off her had been hell. And when she stopped kissing me—pure torture. I
swear
,
I could have bashed my head through the nearest
wall.

Thank the stars, this chick,
Roxy,
I met at the last hockey game called me when she
did—right after the kiss. Otherwise, I was going to call
Summer
out on the make-out—and that would have been
bad. Whatever’s going on with us—
Summer
and
me—we aren’t ready for it. Well, she’s not ready for it. I’ve been ready
a while now. Waiting. Hoping. Praying. And that kiss sure didn’t help settle me
down. It gave me a taste of what I’ve been longing for. But the thing is, it’s
not the same for
Summer
. Summer is restless. She
doesn’t know what she wants.

It’s just unfortunately, I
do—Summer.

So, I took off when Roxy called
(not that Summer stuck around to notice). Summer ran upstairs, breaking my
heart.

All I know now is, I’ve got to keep
away from
Summer
.

Until she knows what she wants.

CHAPTER 21

SUMMER

After I did the phenomenal stupid mistake
of kissing Mason, he avoided me. Not that he seemed to want to be around me
much lately anyway—I mean, even before the kiss. He was always running
off with other girls ever since he’d been sick a couple months ago. I have no
idea what that was about—his sudden interest in every party girl on the
planet. But I knew what his avoiding me now was about—my stupid kiss.

And boy! It was stupid to kiss him.
Now I didn’t just have to dream about it. Now I
knew
what his soft, dreamy lips felt like—heaven. And other
boys’ lips were so not. They were too wet, or too dry, or chap or hard or …
whatever. They weren’t Mason’s perfect, luscious lips … so they sucked.

Believe me, I tried to find some
other great lips, though. Tried hard. It wasn’t like I
wanted
to fantasize about Mason kissing me with those amazing, dewy
lips. I didn’t.
At all.
It was embarrassing. And so
not like me. If I want a boy, I get him. I just do. But with Mason it was
different.
Of course.
I couldn’t go after him. Mason
was totally off limits.

So, I had planned to avoid him
every chance I got … until I realized
he
was avoiding
me
. That changed things.

Finally, almost a whole, entire
month later, I called him out about the kiss.

“So … what?” I said as I watched
him ignore me in the kitchen as he made a thick, meaty sandwich. “Now you’re
never going to look at me?”

His hands stilled. And his brow
rose.

He gave me a lazy grin, cocking his
head towards me. “I’ll look at you,
Summer
. Is that
really what you want? Me ogling you?”

Ugh. Okay, he had me. Now it seemed
more like he was calling
me
out. He wasn’t putting out mixed signals—I was. If he ogled—no, I
wouldn’t want that. Definitely. No. But I didn’t like being ignored either.

I drew out a breath. “Mason, I miss
you.”

“Summer,” his voice went gentle.
“I’m right here.”

I knew he understood—even if
his words didn’t make it sound that way.

I swallowed. “But … it was like I
used to be special to you.”

His eyes stared into mine,
unwavering. “You’re still special to me,
Summer
.”

“But before I kissed you—it
was like I was your favorite.”

He said softly, “You’re still my
favorite.”

He ran a hand over his face. “But
you get guys too easy. You don’t know what you want—” then he added
quickly, “—and don’t tell me it’s me. If you do, I swear—I’m going
to do things you
don’t
want me to do.
Start saying things you don’t want me to say. Summer … you can’t play around
with me. I live here.”

Just then he got a phone call.
From a girl.
Of course.

His
eyes flickered to me. “Look, I’m going to take this call,
Summer
.”
A lock of his hair fell over his right eye. His fingers weaved through the
strands as his gaze stayed locked on mine. He raised his brow. “It doesn’t mean
you’re not my favorite—it just means this is someone I can touch.”

CHAPTER 22

So, almost an entire year went by
like that—Mason avoiding me. And me … confused. Desperately. I missed him
so much. Just hanging with him. Keeping him company while he practiced making
shots, or at the batting cages, or going to him for advice when I had a problem
with a guy. (Which by the way, I always did. Constantly. Have problems with
guys, I mean. Maybe because of him—Mason. I mean, maybe I subconsciously
compared every guy to him and they just didn’t measure up. Well, anyway, I was
starting to worry that was my problem—
that
I had
a bizarre “thing” for Mason that was boarding on insanity. I mean, ’cause, you
know, I knew I could never have him. Because he was basically my brother … just
not quite.)

I stared at him now in the kitchen as
I waited for my insta-tan to dry. He was slathering a mound of ketchup and
cheese-glop on his heaping plate of French fries.

“That’s gross,” I informed him.

“Yeah well,
that’s
—” he gestured to my bikini clad body,
“—not.”

Heat rushed to my cheeks.
Oh!!

“I was just trying to get an indoor
tan—before I hit the hot tub.”
With Justin.
(I
didn’t add that last part—the Justin part. Mason and I never talked about
who
we were dating anymore. Him, because I think he
knew I didn’t want to hear about it due to severe trauma to my heart. I’m not
sure why I didn’t tell him about my dates, though.
Just
because … I guess.
I really wasn’t quite sure why. The topic just seemed
kind of taboo. Or anyway, hard to choke out.)

I went on to explain, my face still
burning hot, “The tan stuff needs to sink into my skin. I didn’t want to get my
clothes all sticky.”

I rambled on and on, trying to explain
why I was standing in the kitchen at seven-thirty—
at night
—in a bikini.

Inwardly, I groaned. Then grimaced.
“Should I change?

Mason didn’t look up from his magazine.
“If you don’t want me ogling you.”

My lips parted.

A hint of a grin played at the corners
of his gorgeous mouth, though his long-lashed eyes stayed locked on his
magazine. His brow rose. “Look, just fair warning.”

Ugh! I was going to get all sticky.
I was
not
looking forward to it. “Do
you want me to change?”

His lips twitched another adorable
grin. “Is that a trick question?” His eyes danced as he finally looked up at
me. “Look Summer, I’m a guy. I know you don’t think of me that way—usually.
But I’m not related to you … and you’re not exactly unattractive.”

I could feel myself blush. I couldn’t
help it. And I couldn’t help being flattered—whether he was teasing me or
not. I mean
,
Mason was a total hottie.
And dated girls older than him.
Girls out
of high school.
In fact, I didn’t even really think he
looked
at high school girls anymore. Not
as more than just little toys.

I mean, there was a time he had
said he liked my kiss—that he wanted to kiss me back—but that was a
long time ago. And he’d changed a lot. Got all this experience with older girls,
while all I’d done was had bad experience after bad experience with stupid,
immature high school boys—players and dogs.

So, I didn’t feel Mason and I were
on the same level. Not when it came to dating or experience or attraction.

So, yeah, his teasing gaze had me
on fire.

Thank goodness, my cell phone
buzzed right then.

For once it was me that got a call
to interrupt our conversation. And it was from a boy—Justin.
My date for tonight.
He was having
me and
some friends
over to hang out in his indoor hot tub while we watched
movies (in his
indoors
hot
tub!!) And we were going to play pool and air-hockey and all the other fun
things he had in his family’s fancy recreation room. I was stoked.

“Who was that?” Mason asked when I
got off the phone. “You look sad.”

I sighed. “I am. Wanna go dancing?”

A smile crept at the corners of his
mouth. “I could do that.”

“Um …”—deep blush—“ … would
you mind pretending to be my date again?”

His smile didn’t fall. It just sort
of twitched, like the idea was amusing. “I could do that, too.”

I’m sure right at that moment he
was thinking of me exactly as a little kid sister—one that was forever
needing petty little nerdy fake dates. Groan.

The thing was
,
Justin had called me to tell me he didn’t think I should come over. My latest
ex
-boyfriend, Ian, had called Justin and
told him that I didn’t really like him (Justin) that I was just using him (Justin)
to get over Ian.
Which I so totally wasn’t.
I was so
far “over” Ian that I never even gave him a second thought. But I didn’t want
to get into that with Justin. If he wasn’t going to trust me—that I was
over Ian, then well, I didn’t want to deal with it. There was too much drama
with ex’s and soon-to-be-ex’s in my life. It was bringing me down, big time.

So, that might
have explained why I looked so sad—that and because I love indoor hot
tubs.
But to top off my look of sadness,
right
after Justin called—cancelling our date (though
it was more like he just wanted me to reassure him that I was totally into him,
but I couldn’t exactly do that because, well … I couldn’t) but anyway, right
after his phone call, Ian texted me. It said,
“Big plans for tonight?”

Like he knew he got Justin to
cancel on me. And that he was able to ruin my night.

I texted Ian back now,
“Yeah.
I have big plans. Huge plans. I’m going with my DATE dancing!”
Then I
added a texted happy face, and the biting (to Ian) words:
“Life is AWESOME.”

Ian texted me back. Immediately.
“Where are you going dancing at with your
‘date’?”

He put the word “date” in quotes.
Like he didn’t believe I really had one. Like not even
I
could come up with one so fast.

I let out an exasperated breath,
then
replied,
“Not that it’s any of your business, but
we’re going to be dancing up a sweat at Becca’s party.”

“I’m going there,”
Ian
texted back
. “I’ll see you with your ‘date’.”

“Why??? It will just make you
cry. Stay home and save yourself from jealousy and sorrow. I repeat: Stay home,
Ian.”

“Only if you’ll come over.”

I blinked at the strange message. I
mean,
What
the—???

What a weirdo. First he tried to
ruin
my plans, and now what was
his message supposed to mean?

Boys are weird.
And
creepy.
Bleck
.

“Look,
Summer
,
you don’t have to make up a date,”
Ian texted after only a brief moment.
“Just come over. I miss you.”

I blinked again.

Ian was cute—extremely
handsome in fact.
And the captain of our school’s basketball
team.
But apparently, he had taken one too many basketballs to the head.
Either that—or he
believed
what
all the little freshmen and sophomore girls whispered about him. But those
girls were inexperienced—and had never actually dated the jerk.

“You’re delusional,”
I
texted quickly.
“First you try to
ruin
my night—then you tell me you miss
me and want me to come over???? Don’t go to the party, Ian … go to the doctor.
Get your head checked.”

“Wow. You really don’t want me to
go to that party. Why
is
that,
Summer
? I’m
going to go there, though. Definitely. To see you and your ‘date’.”

I rolled my eyes.
“Fine.
But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”