Sometimes Never (24 page)

             
“Fuck you. And fuck Mason. I hope you’re both fucking happy together.” The line goes dead and I stare at my phone.

             
Well that went well
. But at least it’s done. He has his closure. I have mine. The girls at school will have theirs.

             
I sit on the step and text Mason.

             
Me: U STILL UP?

             
Him: YEP. WHAT’S UP?

             
Me: JUST THINKING ABOUT U.

             
Him: REALLY? WHAT ABOUT ME?

             
I smile as I key in my next text. Me: I CAN’T GET THOSE BOXERS OUT OF MY HEAD.

             
Him: COME OVER. I HAVE ANOTHER PAIR.

             
Me: RIGHT NOW?

             
Him: YES. PLEASE?

             
Me: REALLY?

             
Him: DON’T MAKE ME BEG YOU.

             
I bite my lip. I’m already outside. Everyone else is in bed. I doubt they’d miss me. I text Guy to cover for me before I respond to Mason.

             
Me: DIRECTIONS?

27

Mason

              It takes Hope ten minutes to get here. I open the door before she has a chance to knock. I don’t want Kel waking up. She smiles at me and I have a sudden bout of nerves. This is the first time she’s seeing my house. I move out of the way, giving her space to get through the door.

             
There are still boxes piled along one wall, waiting to be unpacked. Her eyes brush over them. She circles the living room, her fingers skimming across the couch, the desk, the ancient computer.

             
“You want something to drink?” I ask her because my throat feels too dry.

             
She nods. “Some water?”

             
I turn into the kitchen and she follows me. “Oh, wow. Your kitchen’s really clean,” she observes.

I chuckle. “It’s just the three of us. Mom’s usually sleeping or working and Kel and I are at school or your house. Pretty easy clean up.”

              She takes the glass I offer her. I gulp mine down while she sips hers. “Where’s your room?”

             
I stare at her over the rim of my glass. She does that thing that drives me crazy, dropping her lashes leisurely and looking at me through them. I take the glass from her, setting both on the counter, and take her hand. She pauses halfway down the hall and I think she’s changed her mind, deciding she’s not ready to be alone in my room with me, but when I look back she’s examining a picture on the wall.

             
“Your dad,” she says. It doesn’t sound like a question, but I nod. “You look just like him, except the hair obviously. Does your mom have your dark hair?”

             
I nod again and she moves around me. “Which one?” she whispers.

             
I point at my door and watch as she opens it, moving inside. I reach for the light switch at the same time she does and I hear her quick intake of breath as our hands meet in the dark. “Sorry,” I say barely audibly.

             
She takes another step in and let’s her gaze drift around my small space. Her fingers trail over the books and movies on my shelf and she smiles. It’s mostly horror, her favorite. She moves on to the shelf of CD’s. “Hey, you know
Dead End Days
?”

             
“Yeah. I’m from Illinois, remember?”

             
Hope scrunches her nose.
So freaking cute
. “He’s from Ohio. The lead singer is, I mean.”

             
“But he lives in Chicago now,” I correct her. “I’m surprised you know them.”

             
“Female drummer. Of course I know them. Great band.”

             
“Yeah, it is.”

             
She finally turns to the bed and walks right over to it, kicking her shoes off and sitting in the middle. “Great bed,” she says so softly I almost miss it.

             
I swallow hard. “Yeah, it is.”

             
I watch as she lies back on my pillow. Her shirt rides up as she rests her arms above her head just like she did the first time I saw her. Hope lying on my bed is the most perfect thing I have ever seen. Straight out of my fantasies and into my room. “It smells like you.”

             
I dip my chin. “What do I smell like?”

             
Propping herself on her elbows she manages a slight shrug. “Like boy soap and fabric softener. I like it. It’s nice.” Hope gazes up at me, her eyes boring into mine with fascination. “Why am I here, Mason?”

             
That throws me off. I stare at the exposed strip of pale stomach. It amazes me that this little piece of skin can turn me on as much as seeing her at the pond in her underwear, dripping wet, her hair sticking to her... “What was the question?”

             
She sits up. “I was promised shamrock boxers. Are you going to deliver?”

             
“I can’t get in that bed with you,” I say as it dawns on me. “Being good, remember?”

             
Peering up at me, Hope slips out of her shirt. The light pink bra she’s wearing makes her look so girly. So soft. So incredibly gorgeous. I realize I’m not breathing and suck air in quickly. Extending her arm, she drops the tank top to the floor and lies back once again. “And you remember I didn’t ask for you to be good. I want you to touch me.” Dear, God. She has no idea how much I want that too.

             
And then she throws my words back at me. “Don’t make me beg you,” she breathes.

             
Her words set me on fire, causing my body to burn with need. Nothing could stop me now. I crawl up the bed, moving over her little by little, dropping kisses on her legs. Taking my time on her smooth stomach. Paying special attention to her belly button. My fingers graze the indentations between her ribs.

             
Her breathing speeds with every move of my lips. I meet her eyes as I reach for the front clasp of her bra, giving her time to tell me to stop, but she doesn’t. Her chest rises faster and faster and I’m about to lose it just watching her reaction to me. I slide the lacy material away and taste her bare skin, my eyes still locked with hers. With one last kiss, I let my gaze drop and my hand replaces my mouth. My thumb skims her tightened pink nipple.

             
Hope wiggles under me while pulling on my shirt at the same time. She works us into the position she wants and draws my mouth to hers, whimpering as our tongues meet, and my eyes threaten to tear up.

             
Warm hands slip under my shirt releasing a loud moan from me. Somehow she gets my shirt off with minimal separation. Her knees shift to either side of my hips. I fall into place between her legs and she makes a sound in her throat.

             
As she glides her hand between our bodies and unbuttons my jeans, it occurs to me that I’m letting her guide. I’ve never done this before, letting someone else set the pace. I’ve just done whatever felt good and the girls seemed to enjoy it. I’ve never been led. And I really like it.

             
I move my hands everywhere, desperate for the sensation of her body against my palms. Hope pushes my pants down as far as she can and I scramble out of them. It’s obvious how much I want her, the sudden restriction of my boxers evident. She squirms out of her shorts and I sink into her. There’s not enough fabric between us. I can’t handle this much longer. It’s becoming too great a need to join our bodies. I want her. I want her right now. I pull back and rest my head at her neck. She smells like raspberries and I think I die a little inside.

             
“You feel so good,” I groan. It’s difficult to breathe and I really don’t want to say what I know I need to say. “We should probably stop.”

             
“No,” she pants. “I don’t want to stop. I want you. I need you.” Her voice is breathless, cracking over several words. Pleading almost desperately.

             
Shit
. I have no willpower. Not when I know exactly what she means. “We don’t have to do this,” I protest, but it sounds weak even to my own ears. I want to. So badly.

             
“I know.”

             
“It’ll hurt,” I explain. I don’t want to hurt her. Didn’t I just promise her I wouldn’t?

             
“I know,” she repeats. Her hand cups my jaw, thumb caressing my cheek. “But in a good way and our next time will feel better.”

             
Our next time. I’ve never had a next time with somebody. And now my mind is filled with all our next times. I desperately need to know what her face looks like in the height of physical pleasure.

             
This is real.

             
“I need to say it. I know I said I wouldn’t say it anymore, but I need to know you understand before we go further.”

             
She blinks slowly and fixes her eyes on me. I can feel her heart slamming against my chest. I press my palm to her skin, mesmerized by the power. Hope trails her tongue along my throat before pressing a kiss there. “I love you, Mason,” she whispers. “I don’t know how this happened to me, but I’m trying not to fight it anymore.” Her eyes shine as they find mine again. “Make love to me.”

             
I try to say something, but I have no voice. Too fast. This happened too fast. She’s going to regret it tomorrow and then she’ll disappear from my life. But she said she loved me. She said it. Not candy. Not Skittles. Me. She said Mason.

             
I grin at her, unable to pry my eyes away. “I love you too.”

             
And this all seems wrong. I love her. I want better for her. Should her first time be here at midnight in my messy room? No. It should be—I don’t know… In a nice hotel. With candles and roses. I glance around. Not here in this shitty house.

             
Hope ushers my attention back to her and I sigh. “It’s not supposed to be like this. Your first time needs to be special.”

             
“This is special.”

             
I shake my head emphatically. “No it’s not. You deserve a nice place. Nice things.”

             
She laughs, her lips turning up in a way that makes me want to kiss them again and again. “The place doesn’t matter. It’s the person. It’s you and it’s me. That’s the important part. I happen to love where I am. In your bed that smells like you, surrounded by the things that make you you.”

             
This is why I love her.

             
This is real
.

             
I reach under the bed where I hide the box of condoms from Kellin. This is happening. My hands are shaking, my heart pounding, matching hers.

             
“Tell me again,” I say just above a whisper. I need to hear it. I want to hear it over and over.

             
“Lost for you. I’m so lost for you,” she sings quietly and then presses a kiss to my cheek letting her lips brush down my chin. “I love you.”

             
“I love you, Hope.”

28

Hope

The contrast between my creamy arm resting on Mason’s dark golden chest is the most compelling thing I’ve ever seen. There’s a strange beauty that I cannot tear my eyes away from. Another difference between us that somehow compliments the other.

             
Mason’s soft breathing, the slow rise and fall of his chest, his familiar scent, it all lolls me into a peaceful bliss I’m unaccustomed to. The low ache in my body is a far away thought. I’m happy. The realization is startling. Over and over, he makes me feel. He makes me enjoy feeling.

             
I rest my chin on my hand and smile at him. His fingers stroke the hair away from my face and he smiles back. He looks content. Happy, like me. That realization is even more startling. I make him feel good too. In some distant part of my brain I know this shouldn’t be so shocking. Most people feel good all the time. Most people aren’t like me. Am I becoming part of the average? My normal has always been abnormal. I like it there. I’m pretty much the only affiliate.

             
Eh. I don’t care. I’ll give up my membership to the lonely hearts club for Mason. I’d much rather be here with him then go back to empty. Empty or overloaded. Same difference. Here is nice. Here is good.

             
“What are you thinking about?” Mason asks brushing the tips of his fingers over my shoulder and leaving a trail of goose bumps.