Sweet Obsession
Page 52
Boyfriend. I just said I had a boyfriend. I passed up sex because I have a boyfriend.
Segments of my earlier conversations in the bakery filter through my head. The noise from the busy street fades out to silence. Joey and Dylan’s voices are all I can hear as I close my eyes and steady my breathing.
“She was pacing around like a love-sick puppy waiting for him to come over.”
“You get this little smile on your face every time he comes in here, Brooke. Don’t act like you don’t more than like this guy.”
“Oh, my God, Dylan. She got jealous over this girl he was texting on Saturday night. You know what that means.”
“If you didn’t care, you wouldn’t be jealous, Brooke.”
Jealous. I didn’t get jealous. I was drunk. Anything I do or say under the influence of Billy’s martinis shouldn’t be held against me. I don’t even remember Mason texting anyone.
I picture his phone and the name highlighted on the screen.
Tessa.
Fuck!
A hand on my shoulder turns my head and pops my eyes open.
Mason’s concerned face studies mine, his hands reaching out to grab me. “Hey, are you all right?”
I step back, avoiding his grasp. “What are you doing here?” I ask, looking over at the building I just evacuated like it was going up in flames. I turn back to Mason and take in his attire.
Khakis and a nice button-down shirt. Not what I’m used to seeing him in during the week.
“Why aren’t you teaching a class? Did Vince call you?”
“Vince? Who is Vince?”
I rub my hands down my face. God, I am losing it.
“Nobody. He’s nobody,” I utter, letting my arms fall limp at my sides and looking up at him.
His bright eyes are filled with worry. I probably look like I’m having a nervous breakdown.
Clearing my throat, I ask again. “Why are you here, Mason?”
He moves closer, getting out of the way of other pedestrians on the sidewalk. Sunlight catches in his hair and lightens a few strands. “I was meeting with someone about possibly expanding into a chain. Just discussing ideas. I don’t really know if it’s something I’m serious about.”
I wet my lips. “Oh.”
Mason’s logo on store fronts around the city. I can picture it. Then merchandise. Water bottles and cute little tops.
He should expand. He’d be fantastic with it.
“Why are you here, Brooke? You look a bit . . . out of sorts.” He reaches out and squeezes my arm at the elbow. I don’t pull away from him like I did when Vince touched me.
After a year, I would still remember how this felt.
Swallowing through a heavy blink, I lower my gaze to a spot on Mason’s shirt. “I was making a delivery in that building and this guy I hooked up with last year asked if I wanted to go at it again. You know, have sex.” I briefly glance up at him.
He appears engrossed by what I’m saying, watching me with an absorbing look in his eyes. His jaw tight as if he’s clenching his teeth. His grip on my arm tensing.
I drop my head. “I told him I didn’t want to. That I had a boyfriend.”
“Yeah?”
I nod and step back. “I have to go.”
“Whoa. Wait a minute.” Mason grabs my arm again. His other hand cups my cheek. The corner of his mouth twitches as he stares down at me. “You said you have a boyfriend.”
I close my eyes. “I don’t know,” I whisper.
My heart pounds in my chest. The blood in my veins warms and heats my skin until a fine sheen of sweat builds on the surface.
“Brooke.”
I grab his wrist and pull his hand away from my face. “Stop. I need to go. I just . . .” I move back, but Mason seizes my waist and hauls me against him.
“What’s going on? Why are you panicking?”
“Because.”
I try and turn in his arms. I try and escape, run away from this, from my worry and the emotions I feel coiling around me and suffocating.
I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I suddenly feel so small and crowded in my own skin.
“Because why? Talk to me,” he pleads, bending to get closer. “Brooke.”
My name on his lips and the way he says it, like a familiar embrace, unlocks something inside of me. Another level of uncertainty. Something so overwhelming it roots itself deep in my soul and demands to be acknowledged.
Feel this. Do you know what this is, Brooke?
Panic collapses in on me. I gather a full breath into my lungs and push against his chest with every ounce of strength I have left. “Because I don’t know men like you!” I yell, my voice breaking and sounding as fragile as I feel.
Mason staggers back, eyes round and enthralling. The look on his face mirroring my own trepidation.
“I don’t understand what we’re doing and I just need a minute to breathe, okay?” Tears wet my cheeks. More threaten behind my lashes. “I need a minute,” I softly utter, wiping at my face and looking up at him.
God, what is happening to me? I’m yelling at everyone today.
He pinches his lips together through a tense nod, studying me with rapt attention. His eyes gentle yet gripping.
I try and compose myself. I manage to at least stop fresh tears from forming, but my chest feels tight and my hands are sweaty. I pray I don’t stroke out right here on the sidewalk.
Mason stares at me a moment longer, then looks over my shoulder and rubs at his jaw. “Why don’t we go grab some coffee? Sit down for a bit.”
I shake my head. “No. I need to get back to work.”
“Come on.” He reaches out for me, but pulls his hand back before he can touch my arm. He tilts his head with a tender grin. “Just a few minutes, yeah? I won’t keep you long. Just one cup of coffee.”
“I’ve already given you coffee today,” I reply, wrapping my arms around myself.
He seems to fight a much broader smile as he moves closer. “I know, sweet Brooke. But it’s either this or lunch, and I figured you’d be more agreeable to a quick beverage.” He sticks his hands in his pockets and jerks his chin in the direction behind me. “One more cup. If Dylan gives you grief about it I’ll say it was all my doing. That I kidnapped you and ignored your urgent pleas to return to work. You’ll look like the model employee, I promise.”
I bite the inside of my cheek and contemplate his request.
Coffee, then I can return to work. Do I even want to return to work? I’m beginning to think that maybe leaving the sanctity of my bedroom at all today was the biggest mistake of my life.
Everything seemed so simple this weekend. I was in my perfect little Mason bubble and everyone left me alone about it. I didn’t have to explain myself to anyone. I wasn’t being asked to define anything. Even though Billy and Joey were around Saturday night, they left the two of us alone and from what I can remember, I enjoyed myself. I usually do with Mason. But now the weekend is over. I’m being forced to analyze what I’m doing and what all happens in my perfect little bubble, and I don’t want to. I don’t even know if I can.
How am I supposed to explain this to people when I don’t know what’s happening myself?
I clear that question from my head and look up into Mason’s eyes.
Segments of my earlier conversations in the bakery filter through my head. The noise from the busy street fades out to silence. Joey and Dylan’s voices are all I can hear as I close my eyes and steady my breathing.
“She was pacing around like a love-sick puppy waiting for him to come over.”
“You get this little smile on your face every time he comes in here, Brooke. Don’t act like you don’t more than like this guy.”
“Oh, my God, Dylan. She got jealous over this girl he was texting on Saturday night. You know what that means.”
“If you didn’t care, you wouldn’t be jealous, Brooke.”
Jealous. I didn’t get jealous. I was drunk. Anything I do or say under the influence of Billy’s martinis shouldn’t be held against me. I don’t even remember Mason texting anyone.
I picture his phone and the name highlighted on the screen.
Tessa.
Fuck!
A hand on my shoulder turns my head and pops my eyes open.
Mason’s concerned face studies mine, his hands reaching out to grab me. “Hey, are you all right?”
I step back, avoiding his grasp. “What are you doing here?” I ask, looking over at the building I just evacuated like it was going up in flames. I turn back to Mason and take in his attire.
Khakis and a nice button-down shirt. Not what I’m used to seeing him in during the week.
“Why aren’t you teaching a class? Did Vince call you?”
“Vince? Who is Vince?”
I rub my hands down my face. God, I am losing it.
“Nobody. He’s nobody,” I utter, letting my arms fall limp at my sides and looking up at him.
His bright eyes are filled with worry. I probably look like I’m having a nervous breakdown.
Clearing my throat, I ask again. “Why are you here, Mason?”
He moves closer, getting out of the way of other pedestrians on the sidewalk. Sunlight catches in his hair and lightens a few strands. “I was meeting with someone about possibly expanding into a chain. Just discussing ideas. I don’t really know if it’s something I’m serious about.”
I wet my lips. “Oh.”
Mason’s logo on store fronts around the city. I can picture it. Then merchandise. Water bottles and cute little tops.
He should expand. He’d be fantastic with it.
“Why are you here, Brooke? You look a bit . . . out of sorts.” He reaches out and squeezes my arm at the elbow. I don’t pull away from him like I did when Vince touched me.
After a year, I would still remember how this felt.
Swallowing through a heavy blink, I lower my gaze to a spot on Mason’s shirt. “I was making a delivery in that building and this guy I hooked up with last year asked if I wanted to go at it again. You know, have sex.” I briefly glance up at him.
He appears engrossed by what I’m saying, watching me with an absorbing look in his eyes. His jaw tight as if he’s clenching his teeth. His grip on my arm tensing.
I drop my head. “I told him I didn’t want to. That I had a boyfriend.”
“Yeah?”
I nod and step back. “I have to go.”
“Whoa. Wait a minute.” Mason grabs my arm again. His other hand cups my cheek. The corner of his mouth twitches as he stares down at me. “You said you have a boyfriend.”
I close my eyes. “I don’t know,” I whisper.
My heart pounds in my chest. The blood in my veins warms and heats my skin until a fine sheen of sweat builds on the surface.
“Brooke.”
I grab his wrist and pull his hand away from my face. “Stop. I need to go. I just . . .” I move back, but Mason seizes my waist and hauls me against him.
“What’s going on? Why are you panicking?”
“Because.”
I try and turn in his arms. I try and escape, run away from this, from my worry and the emotions I feel coiling around me and suffocating.
I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I suddenly feel so small and crowded in my own skin.
“Because why? Talk to me,” he pleads, bending to get closer. “Brooke.”
My name on his lips and the way he says it, like a familiar embrace, unlocks something inside of me. Another level of uncertainty. Something so overwhelming it roots itself deep in my soul and demands to be acknowledged.
Feel this. Do you know what this is, Brooke?
Panic collapses in on me. I gather a full breath into my lungs and push against his chest with every ounce of strength I have left. “Because I don’t know men like you!” I yell, my voice breaking and sounding as fragile as I feel.
Mason staggers back, eyes round and enthralling. The look on his face mirroring my own trepidation.
“I don’t understand what we’re doing and I just need a minute to breathe, okay?” Tears wet my cheeks. More threaten behind my lashes. “I need a minute,” I softly utter, wiping at my face and looking up at him.
God, what is happening to me? I’m yelling at everyone today.
He pinches his lips together through a tense nod, studying me with rapt attention. His eyes gentle yet gripping.
I try and compose myself. I manage to at least stop fresh tears from forming, but my chest feels tight and my hands are sweaty. I pray I don’t stroke out right here on the sidewalk.
Mason stares at me a moment longer, then looks over my shoulder and rubs at his jaw. “Why don’t we go grab some coffee? Sit down for a bit.”
I shake my head. “No. I need to get back to work.”
“Come on.” He reaches out for me, but pulls his hand back before he can touch my arm. He tilts his head with a tender grin. “Just a few minutes, yeah? I won’t keep you long. Just one cup of coffee.”
“I’ve already given you coffee today,” I reply, wrapping my arms around myself.
He seems to fight a much broader smile as he moves closer. “I know, sweet Brooke. But it’s either this or lunch, and I figured you’d be more agreeable to a quick beverage.” He sticks his hands in his pockets and jerks his chin in the direction behind me. “One more cup. If Dylan gives you grief about it I’ll say it was all my doing. That I kidnapped you and ignored your urgent pleas to return to work. You’ll look like the model employee, I promise.”
I bite the inside of my cheek and contemplate his request.
Coffee, then I can return to work. Do I even want to return to work? I’m beginning to think that maybe leaving the sanctity of my bedroom at all today was the biggest mistake of my life.
Everything seemed so simple this weekend. I was in my perfect little Mason bubble and everyone left me alone about it. I didn’t have to explain myself to anyone. I wasn’t being asked to define anything. Even though Billy and Joey were around Saturday night, they left the two of us alone and from what I can remember, I enjoyed myself. I usually do with Mason. But now the weekend is over. I’m being forced to analyze what I’m doing and what all happens in my perfect little bubble, and I don’t want to. I don’t even know if I can.
How am I supposed to explain this to people when I don’t know what’s happening myself?
I clear that question from my head and look up into Mason’s eyes.
