When Life Gives You Lemons [COMPLETE]

Chapter 2

My first few class periods of sophomore year went by in an uneventful fashion. So many Omigod, you look great!s and I missed you this summer!s were shared, as expected, but I didn't mind. I always liked the first day of school back after summer vacation; it was like a clean slate. A fresh start.

As the bell for fifth period finally rang out, I gladly left my seat in Algebra 2 to make my way towards the best part of the day: lunch. Math was never my strong suit, and I already thought Mr. Jefferies had it out for me; he'd called on me at least three times in ten minutes, and each time I had to stumble out an answer I wasn't confident in. If Jessie were there, she would've made a joke about how my dad was an accountant, but I couldn't add to save my life. I would've laughed and felt immediately better. But, sad as it was, I didn't have any classes with her this semester.

I dragged myself out of one of the school basements and down a hallway. The giant library awaited me at the end. A nice and quiet forty-five minutes in the library was much needed while I tried to finish whatever homework I had procrastinated doing over the summer and ate the sub-par grilled cheese I bought from the cafeteria.

Since it was a lunch period, the library was almost empty. I settled for a two-person table next to the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the school pond, overflowing from the rain last night. My phone buzzed with a message from Jess, a picture of her at lunch with a few of our other school friends, and the caption I hate you for ditching us!! I smiled, closing my text messages and instead scrolling for a song to play as I shoved my earbuds in my ears. With my music loud and my mind focused on the work in front of me, I was in the zone.

I started on my homework with one hand while, with the other, I suffered through my sandwich, an unholy combination of soggy wheat bread and plastic-tasting cheese, nothing like the divine creations my dad made. I should've packed lunch, but my memory was never impressive at seven in the morning.

Not too much time had passed when I finally finished my two pages of conjugating Spanish verbs. How didn't I finish that over the summer? I could've been out to lunch with Jessie instead of inside the library.

Although I liked the occasional alone time, I preferred to be around people, a personal side-effect of being an only child. If I had to be alone, though, the library was a good place to do it. Beneath my music, it was silent—the only sounds were pens on paper and the clacking of keyboards—but I still felt the calming presence of people nearby. All around me, bookshelves rose like skyscrapers, filled with stories of every genre, including a wide section near the door of non-fiction and autobiographies for school reports. Maybe I would check out a book sometime soon, something I hadn't done since at least the sixth grade. My mom was always trying to get me to read more.

I sighed and returned my homework to my folder. As I checked my phone, I noticed there were only ten minutes left in the class period. There wasn't enough time to meet up with Jessie, so I leaned back in the surprisingly comfortable chair, my favorite playlist still playing in my ears.

Until someone ripped out one of my headphones with more force than necessary.

"Ow!" I grimaced. "What the hell, asshole?" I shut off my music and looked up at the perpetrator of my pain, furious. Meeting my dark brown eyes, however, were a pair of honey ones I was oh-so-familiar with.

"Sorry, Emmy," Mason said with a sheepish grin. Emmy. It had been a while since he called me that. It was a nostalgic start to a random conversation with my childhood crush. Mason chuckled and ran a hand through his hair, causing it to stick up in a few places. He pointed down at the empty chair in front of me. "This seat taken?"

"Um, no, go ahead," I said as I watched him slink into the chair, dropping his backpack next to him. "Why are you here, anyway? Shouldn't you be out at lunch with your basketball buddies?" I raised an eyebrow. Although I was a nervous wreck inside, I learned from an early age how to act calm around Mason Masterson.

"Actually, we had a basketball information meeting during lunch today, so we couldn't go out. By now it's too late and I saw you through the door, so here I am. Is this a problem?" He stretched out his arms, his button-down riding dangerously higher on his flat, chiseled stomach. The traces of a v-line peeked out from between his pants and the hem of his shirt, and I averted my eyes, praying I wasn't blushing. Even if I could act calm, my body's responses to Mason would give me away.

I shook my head. If only he knew.

We sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes before I blurted out what had been on my mind earlier that day. "What were you and Alexis fighting about?" I blinked, mentally cursing myself for my bluntness. We'd never talked about his relationship one-on-one before.

After a momentary pause, he responded with, "We broke up." My eyes widened. I studied his face for any sign of emotion but was surprised to find none. In fact, he kind of seemed, well, over it.

"What happened?" My voice was shy. Mason was fairly used to my prying questions, so much so that I didn't think they even phased him anymore.

"I don't know, Em," he said, looking at me with something that I couldn't quite place in his eyes. "We kind of just grew apart. It doesn't really feel right with her. It was way over before it was officially over. I thought it was mutual, but I think she thought we could still work it out." He looked down at his hands. "She's pretty pissed."

"Well, yeah, I would be, too," I muttered, before realizing I'd spoken my thoughts aloud. Mason smirked and raised his eyebrows, egging me on. I backtracked. "I just mean, uh, it's probably hard going through any breakup, especially after so many years."

His smile faded. He nodded his head. "Yeah, it kind of sucks." Then he turned the conversation on me. "You've never had a boyfriend, have you?"

My cheeks warmed, and I looked away in embarrassment. "No, not really. Unless you count Jeremy Davis in the fifth grade."

"I don't."

"Then no. I haven't."

"Well, when you do, you know I'm going to threaten to beat his ass, right?" Mason put his hands up in a fighting stance, as if to prove his point. Oh great, the big-brother spiel.

I gave a meek smile. "I'd be worried if you didn't."

Mason looked as if he were about to say something else when the bell rang, and he noticed his friends still waiting outside the door in the hallway. He uttered a quick goodbye and sprung up to meet them, leaving me behind. And just like that, our longest conversation in months, probably, was over.