Blackout

Original Edition: 20 | Magnetic

"Different how?" I ask, after a pause.

He watches me a moment longer, before his mouth slides up into a smirk, and it seems as though he changes what he was about to say. "Well, you're not a murderous psychopath like the rest of our friends, for one."

"You never know," I say, reaching for my glass of wine and taking a sip. "I could be."

"That's very true," he agrees, grinning once more, and removing his arm from the back of my chair.

Leaning back, I study him again, biting the inside of my lip. "Tell me more about you," I urge, reaching up to tuck some of my hair behind my ear. "The favourite colour thing is all I got. What's your family like?"

Mason laughs, and my mouth spreads into a close-lipped smile, enjoying the sound. I wish he would laugh more often, wish I could remember a time where he laughed freely, before everything went to shit.

"Well," he says. "My dad's a piece of shit, and he ditched my mom and me a long time ago. He still shows up every now and then, but I wish he wouldn't. My mom's new husband isn't horrible, but her taste in men leaves much to be desired." The words themselves are concerning, but the way he says them is light, and unconcerned, an edge of dark humour to his voice. "I'm counting down the days until graduation when I can finally get the hell out of here."

"I'm sorry to hear that," I murmur sympathetically, my eyebrows furrowed, and he shrugs nonchalantly, reaching for the wine bottle and topping up his glass. "Apparently I am also a member of the Shitty Dads Club."

"Yeah?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

Grimacing, I crinkle my nose, regretting my decision to bring up Andres, since thinking about him only reminds me of my own foolish actions. "He cheated on my mom," I say, sighing. "I guess I'm a piece of shit too. The apple doesn't fall too far from the tree."

He's silent for a few moments, his face solemn, before looking at me with a hint of curiosity in his eyes. "What's the deal with that whole situation?"

"It's complicated," I mumble, "and messy."

He pauses. "Were you in love with him?"

"I don't remember," I say honestly, shaking my head. "I don't know. I trusted him."

"Hm," he hums, watching my face intently and waiting for me to continue.

I consider the situation, staring at the kitchen counter with pursed lips. "I feel like maybe... he was the only guy I knew that was genuine. And I mistook that comfort for romance," I explain, not realizing this is how I felt until speaking it aloud. "He told me we were best friends before everything. I believe it."

"Makes sense," Mason murmurs. When I meet his eyes, I'm surprised to see that they're filled with kind sympathy, instead of judgement. "You can't help how you feel."

"No," I remark, raising an eyebrow. "But you can control how you react. That's the part where I fucked up."

"We all fuck up sometimes," he tells me, lips lifting in small smile. "That's what second chances and forgiveness are for."

I feel my mouth curving into a smile to match his."You know, you're actually not a bad guy," I say. "We just needed to get a little wine in you."

"Don't tell anyone," he teases, and I roll my eyes amicably.

Turning to the clock on the wall, he sighs, leaning back and running a hand through his hair. "Shit, when did it get this late? I should really get home."

I blink at him. "Um, no," I say bluntly. "You've had way too much wine, you're not driving."

"Alina," he protests, and I give him a serious look.