Sometimes Never (18 page)

             
“I’ll take what I can get.”

             
“You aren’t going to tell anyone, are you?” I have to ask. I trusted Park and that didn’t work out so well.

             
He stares at me, an unsatisfied expression on his face. “I can’t promise you that anymore than you can promise me you’ll stop cutting.” He tugs on my hand, pulling me into a hug. “I won’t say anything unless I feel like I have to.”

             
I nod against his chest. “I’ll take what I can get,” I mimic him.

             
“Don’t keep shit from me anymore.”

             
I nod again.

             
“I love you, craziness and all.”

             
I huff out a surprised laugh. “Love you too. Pushiness and all.”

             
He releases me and steps back. “You should talk to Mason.”

             
“One step at a time, dude.”

             
He chuckles and shrugs. “He’s a good person. And he cares about you. The dude has been seriously mopey since you’ve stopped talking to him. Just think about it.”

             
“Are you talking to Park?”

             
Guy clears his throat. “Uh, no.” I arch a brow. “He’s supposed to be my best friend and he didn’t tell me what you were doing. That’s fucked up on a whole different level.”

             
I don’t say anything else because I’m not going to try to talk Guy into forgiving Park. That’s his business and I’m still mad as hell at Park anyway. But I want him to realize he shouldn’t be telling me to do something he isn’t willing to do.

             
“I will though. Once he suffers long enough to know not to pull that shit again.”

             
I smirk, liking the sound of that. “That’s exactly what I’m doing with Mason.”

21

Mason

             
I stayed away from Hope’s house all weekend and it freaking sucked. I spent my time lying around watching made-for-TV movies with Mom and playing video games with Kellin. Mom was ecstatic yesterday when she got the whole day with us. I was miserable, not that I don’t like hanging out with her, but there is only so much Lifetime a guy can take. And I just missed Hope.

             
She has been on my mind way more than is considered healthy. I text Guy probably fifty times to check on her. He was cool about it, but I’m expecting harassment charges to be pressed any moment.

             
When I get to school I automatically look for her car. It’s habit now. And though I know she isn’t going to acknowledge me, I wait by the doors for her. It’s fucking pathetic, standing there like a dog, hoping she’ll throw me a bone and look in my direction.

             
I do it anyways.

             
Today I’m trying something new. I’ve given her space. I’ve even kept my mouth shut for the most part. That didn’t work.

             
I don’t hide it as I watch her walk up the steps toward me. Her eyes meet mine and I hold them, putting everything I’m thinking into that gaze. At least I hope that’s what I’m doing. I hope I don’t look like some creepy, psycho, stalker.

             
Her cheeks turn pink and she drops her eyes. I chuckle lowly as she passes. Yeah, I think I may have played that right.

*******

              In Biology I place the daily denied candy on her table. Usually I sit down and mind my own business. This time I wait until she looks up at me and then I smile at her.

             
“Hey, Hope,” I say softly.

             
“Hi, Mason.”

             
I didn’t expect that and it throws me off. “Did you just talk to me?” I know I sound shocked, but…I am.

             
She laughs quietly. “Yeah. I said hi.”

             
“Hi.”
Hi?
I need my ass kicked.
Talk to her, dumbass
. I sit down and turn sideways in my seat. “How are you?”

             
“Better. I had a good weekend.”

             
What does that mean? I’m glad she had a good weekend, but is it because I left her alone? Are she and Park back together? “What’d you do?” I ask. God, I sound like a douche bag.

             
She laughs again and my stomach tightens in response. “Not much. Watched TV, played Candy Land like forty-four times.”

              “Even your games involve candy?”

             
She smiles, but doesn’t answer because Mr. Roberts starts class. I’m happy as hell the rest of class until she slips out as soon as the bell rings. The candy I brought her still sitting on the table.

             
When I get to lunch I sit with my locker groupies. They’re more than happy to oblige since I’m not blowing them off for once. I’m barely listening to them as I watch the doors.

             
Hope never shows and by the time I get to Art, I’m a little irritated. How long is she going to make me suffer? Can’t she kick me in the balls and forgive me. I think I’ll suggest it to her.

             
Note to self: Never piss Hope off again.

             
“You can come back to the lunchroom,” I start as soon as I sit down. “I moved tables.”

             
She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear and the fine strands slip right back into her face. I fist my hand in order to restrain myself from fixing it. “I told you not to worry about moving. I’m not avoiding the cafeteria just because of you.” Her eyes flick over my face and settle on my mouth. I swallow with difficulty as she licks her lips. She’s trying to kill me.

             
“Ah, but I’m part of it.”

             
She shrugs, smirking. “You were. I’m trying to get over it.”

             
I don’t fight the grin, but I don’t push my luck either. I keep my mouth shut and work on my project.

*******

Kellin made me late this morning and I missed Hope before school started. I nearly run to Biology in my hurry to see her. I drop a pack of Skittles in front of her. Her gaze lowers to the candy and she pushes herself up straighter, dropping her feet from my chair. I chose this particular candy purposely; wanting to remind her of that moment she decided she liked me. I see it in her eyes—she’s thinking about it as she reluctantly tears the package open and puts one in her mouth. A purple one. She doesn’t thank me or even acknowledge me, but it’s a start.

             
I take my seat and sigh. I swear her eyes are burning a hole in the back of my head. Good. I turn around and catch her gaze. “Do you have an extra pencil I can borrow?” I have about ten pencils in my backpack, but it’s a reasonable excuse to talk to her.

             
She places another purple Skittle on her tongue, holding my gaze. “Yeah.” She rolls her pencil across the table to me.

             
“Thanks,” I say and turn back around.

             
The pencil smells like raspberry lotion. I have absolutely no intentions of returning it now. Not when a part of her is so clearly on it. I hold it under my nose knowing I look stupid as hell, but I don’t give a shit. The girl next to me glances over and giggles. Yeah, she giggles. I can’t freaking stand gigglers. I just look at her.

             
“Are you smelling your pencil?” she asks with another annoying giggle.

             
“It smells like raspberries,” I say loud enough for Hope to hear me.

             
“Let me smell,” the girl, Carly, I think, says. She moves as if to take it and I pull back. And then I realize I’m protecting a
pencil
. Seriously? I have got issues. And Hope thinks she’s fucked up? She cuts herself because it’s her way of dealing with the messed up shit she went through when she was a little kid. All things considered, I don’t think that’s all too crazy. But sitting here sniffing a pencil, refusing to share it as if this girl could alter the scent somehow, that’s just...insane.

             
Carly scrunches her brows, obviously thinking the same damn thing. I’m still not willing to share, though. She rolls her eyes and turns her attention to the front of class. “Whatever then.”

             
Hope snorts behind me and I smile. A yellow Skittle lands on my book in front of me and I slap my hand down on it before it can roll away. I glance back at her as I pop it into my mouth. She leans forward, so I lean back.

             
“It’s black raspberry vanilla,” she says quietly.

             
I grin wider. “I like it.”

             
“I’ll remember that,” she states, and the tone of her voice sends a pleasant chill down my back. I let my head fall back on her table and stare up at her. She puts a Skittle in my mouth and pushes my head away. When I sit up, I catch another eye roll from Carly. I smile at her, chewing on what I assume is Hope’s peace offering, or at least acceptance of mine. Finally.

             
“Are you, like, with her?”

             
My smile falters and I raise an eyebrow. “What?”

             
Carly huffs and rolls her eyes yet again. “Are you dating Hope Love?”

             
I glance over my shoulder. Hope’s head is down as she scribbles in her notebook, but I’m fairly certain she heard the question. I look back at Carly. “No, but I’m working really hard on it,” I admit. “First I have to get her to forgive me for being an asshole.”

             
Carly’s eyes go wide in surprise, then disgust. And I have never, ever wanted to hit a girl, but I kind of want to at least trip this one. “Gr-oss.”

             
I shrug my shoulders. “Actually, she’s delicious, but I have a very selective taste pallet.” And clearly I lose Carly. English is apparently a difficult language for her to understand. Her eyes squint in confusion and Hope snorts again.  I almost want to thank Carly for being such a pretentious bitch, but Mr. Roberts walks into the room and begins class. Doesn’t matter. I got Hope to laugh twice and very possibly forgive me.

             
Best day in over a week.

22

Hope

Carly Reeves is a bitch.

             
I want to punch her in her stupid face. I would do it too if it weren’t for the little detail that I just came back to school last week. Of course, if she glares at me over her bony shoulder one more time, I don’t think it will matter much to me.

             
Mason shifts in his seat, blocking my view of Carly. Purposely, I’m sure. I throw another Skittle at him. It hits him in the head and he turns around to look at me. That adorable dimple is out and I bite down on my lip. I’m still mad at him for how he acted at Alec’s party, but he was right. How can I be mad at him for not trusting me when I obviously don’t deserve it? And to be completely honest, I’m actually kind of glad he knows my secret. We are definitely having a discussion about his overpowering me. I don’t like that shit and I won’t put up with it.

             
His eyes focus on my mouth, take in the way I’m biting my lip, and like he knows what I’m thinking, he licks his own lips slowly. I drop dead. Well, not really, but damn. Our first kiss flashes in my mind and I want to do it again. Like right now.

             
He turns back, trying to pay attention, I guess. I keep staring at him. His dark hair is shiny. Remembering how it felt to run my fingers through it… I clear my throat to cover the sound I involuntarily make. Why am I lusting over him in the middle of Biology? I’m mad at him. I mean, I think I am. I was.

             
He leans back and stretches his arms over his head and my eyes run over his nicely shaped, sun-kissed arms. A piece of paper falls from his fingers right in front of me. He did not just do the 90’s stretch and note drop. I’m smiling. He is so cheesy.

             
I unfold the paper and feel my cheeks rise higher.

            
 
I HOPE I DON’T PISS YOU OFF MORE, BUT I’M GOING TO FAIL THIS CLASS. AFTER YOU TORTURED ME FOR OVER A WEEK, ALL I CAN THINK ABOUT IS HOW CLOSE YOU ARE AND HOW MUCH I WANT YOU TO ASK ME TO KISS YOU AGAIN. PLEASE TELL ME THAT WILL HAPPEN EVENTUALLY.

             
I don’t write him back. Instead, I tuck the note into my book—I’m keeping that shit. He doesn’t need confirmation that we’re in the same state of mind. I shove a handful of candy in my mouth and attempt to listen to the lecture.