Royal Jester

20. Mason

Mason wondered if someone ever threw up from being so nervous. Because he sure as fuck felt like he was going to.

At first he wasn't even sure if he wanted to put his confession on one of the sticky notes; hell he still wasn't even sure that she would see it. There were so many sticky notes, so many random sentences that he had written that he was pretty positive she wouldn't even take the time to read more than a dozen.

He had rewritten that damn sentence at least ten times, and had to replace the sticky note three times after ripping them because of how aggressively he had been erasing the words.

Finally, Josh had decided enough was enough and taken the sticky note from him when he noticed Mason staring at what he had written for the twentieth time. Mason had protested at first, before realizing that at that point he wouldn't end up confessing at all if Josh hadn't taken it from him.

The idea started simply, he planned on writing I like you; simple and straight to the point. But the words didn't feel like enough; liking Paris was such a childish thing to say. It was so much more than a puppy crush, and Mason wanted her to know that.

He deliberated over a few other sentences, all compliments ranging from pretty to the most gorgeous to ever exist. Josh had been the one to throw that sticky note away.

He then thought that being so sweet wasn't really him. Sure it might've been what he was thinking, but Paris had never seen him show so much affection before and he was sure she would think it was a joke.

So Mason deliberated over the idea of just asking her out then and there with the sticky note, before he realized how fucking cheap that would be. It was almost as worse as getting broken up with over text. She deserved better than that.

Finally, he wrote the words I'm yours but then thought that might freak her the fuck out considering she didn't even know he liked her. So he finished the sentence with if you're mine; it was the best he could come up with. And then Josh had decided for him and taken the small slip of paper.

Now he was laying in bed, his mind reeling at Paris's sudden arrival and the possibility that she would see the sentence at any point now.

He wondered if she was sleeping yet. It would take quite a bit of time to take down and he knew that she was probably exhausted. He couldn't imagine that she would still be up so she had probably left the clean-up for the next day.

With that, Mason let himself relax. He still had a bit of time before she read it, even if she had come back earlier than he expected.

He had assumed she would be back tomorrow, probably noon at the latest because she was organized enough to not be back later than that, so to see her just casually standing in the living room made his heart race.

He had forgotten how fucking beautiful she was in person; no camera could ever do her justice.

He rolled onto his side, letting out a sigh as he closed his eyes and felt a smile creep onto his face. While they still spoke every day while she was gone, Mason was glad she was actually here.

He had an abrupt urge to touch her, to feel her. He wanted to caress her skin, feel the warmth of her body pressed against his. And he wanted to kiss her.

God, he wanted to kiss her so bad.

He envisioned the way their lips would fit, feeling his heart pound as he imagined how they would move together. He wondered how Paris liked to kiss, maybe she was passionate and loving, always making her partner sigh with complete bliss no matter how long it had lasted. Or maybe she was the complete opposite, preferring to be gentle and pouring all of her emotions into her movements to make sure that her partner knew how much she cared.