Lemonade (WLGYL #2)

Chapter 15-Present

I woke up in the morning with an undeniable feeling of dread. Liam was leaving for vacation today. He'd be gone for two weeks, leaving me really alone with Mason this time. "I'll FaceTime every day," Liam promised when he left my apartment. At my pout, he amended, "And I'll bring you back a gift."

I grinned, but I couldn't help but immediately feel terrible. I didn't know how awkward it was going to be with Mason, and I didn't trust myself around him, either. Not because I thought I would do something; I would never do that to Liam. But because I didn't trust my brain around him. I didn't trust the things my heart would do, or what feelings would show up. It was better to shut out that part of my life completely.

Leaning over the edge of my bed, I opened my nightstand drawer, searching through the miscellaneous crap I kept in there. It had to be here somewhere. I put it there when I first moved in and hadn't looked at it since.

After a few moments of rummaging, under an empty pill bottle, I found it. It was a small box, and nestled inside, amongst tissue paper, was a lemon necklace. My lemon necklace. The one that Mason got me years ago. When we had been dating, I had worn it every single day without fail. Even after we broke up and I was in denial, I still wore it. For the past two years, however, it had been hidden away from my line of sight, because I knew that if I looked at it again, I wouldn't be able to stop myself from thinking about Mason.

I quickly closed the box and shoved it back amidst the junk. Instead, I grabbed a different jewelry box, this one from Liam. Inside was a dainty necklace in the shape of the state of California; he said it was to remind me of him and of our life here. I put it on with a smile. If Liam couldn't be here physically, I could at least wear his necklace. It eased some of the dread I felt.

When I finally got out of bed and made my way to the kitchen, it was already 11 o'clock. I slept in way too long on weekends. I glanced over at Mason's room, but the door was open and he was nowhere to be found. Strange.

With a bowl of cereal in my hand, I looked outside the living room window and, of course, he was standing on the sidewalk below, clad in a cutoff and shorts with one earbud in his ear and the other in his hand. He was talking to some girl in a ponytail, walking her Pomeranian. I raised my eyebrows. Interesting.

Mason said something to the girl, who laughed, before he turned around and headed into the building. I quickly moved away from the window and sat on the couch, turning on the TV before Mason could walk in and see I was spying on him.

A few minutes later, the door opened. I placed my spoon back in the bowl and said, "Hey," trying for an air of nonchalance. Instead, my voice came out in a squeak. Subtle, Emma. Now he definitely knows you're guilty.

If Mason heard a difference in my voice, he didn't say. "Hey." His gray cutoff shirt was sweat-stained and, in one fell swoop, he grabbed the collar and pulled it over his head, leaving him shirtless. I gulped. Seriously?

"You never told me it was so hot in LA," he said breathlessly. He was filling up his water bottle, his back to me. Outside the window, many stories below, it was hard to tell the details of him. Now, I eyed his muscled arms, the sweat on his shoulder blades, his rumpled hair. I was feeling a bit breathless myself. Lord, help me.

I took a deep breath. "I thought that was common knowledge," I said, forcing my voice to remain even. How did he have this quick of an effect on me? I took another bite of cereal, forcing my eyes back on the TV where a sitcom was playing.

Mason plopped down on the couch next to me, his arm resting along the back of the cushions, too close to my shoulder for comfort. I eyed him warily. He was staring at his phone, his water bottle in his other hand. When he noticed me looking, he raised his eyebrows. I immediately blushed.