We had been walking for a while, strolling casually, too tired to move any faster when Mason suddenly said, "So was it all you thought it would be?"
I glanced at him, hands tucked into my pockets, and shivered out, "What?"
He gave me a one-shouldered shrug, his eyes following his steps.
"Today, England, exchange." He shrugged again. "Everything, I guess. Was it what you hoped it would be?"
He looked at me with genuine curiosity, and my chest gave a small flutter.
I looked down and thought about his question.
"More," I finally replied. "It's been more that what I thought it would be. Probably the best couple of weeks of my life."
Mason's warm eyes caught mine and he smiled; a sincere smile that I couldn't seem to look away from. "I'm glad."
We fell into a comfortable silence again, content amidst the buzzing atmosphere. My eyes strayed over our surroundings, enjoying the way the city's lights illuminated the night around us. There was something eccentric about the evening.
However, at the same time, I couldn't act oblivious to the temperature. It was cold. I would never admit it to Mason, but he had been right. I was freezing in the coat I was wearing, which had definitely been made more too look good rather than keep a person warm.
I thought of Kate begrudgingly as I remembered her practically forcing me to buy the damned thing back home.
But rubbing my hands up and down my arms, along with my rattling teeth, eventually caught Mason's attention.
He smirked.
Asshole.
"Looking a little cold over there, Pierce," Mason commented, flicking his eyes down my body.
"You should get your eyes tested then, Tanner," I replied just as sweetly, dropping my hands from my arms.
Mason's smirk grew, though he kept his eyes forward. "And you wonder why my ego is so big when you're constantly proving me right."
"Sh-shut up."
I cursed myself silently for the shiver that gave me away, but Mason only chuckled.
"Always so stubborn," he said, though there was a softness in his voice that made the remark sound more complimentary, rather than the insult he was intending.
"Here," he said, removing the dark grey scarf from his neck and gently wrapping it around my own.
My insides warmed at the sweet gesture, but I managed to appear unaffected. "I thought it was my pneumonia?"
Mason's lips turned up briefly into a smile, before he gave a small shrug. "You've made me go soft, Pierce."
I let out a breathy laugh and looked down. God. God. What was he doing to me?
How was it possible that this was Mason Tanner? How had things changed so much in just a couple of weeks?
As we started walking again, I couldn't help but think about this version of Mason, kind and sweet, and compare him to the one I had known in the past. How could he go from hating me to this? My thoughts were then bombarded with another question, the one that had baffled me for years on end. Why had Mason hated me in the first place?
I glanced over at him, silent for a few minutes as I tried to work up the nerve to ask. "Hey Mason? " I said abruptly, my eyes focused on the ground.
"Yeah?" he replied, throwing me a quick glance. His hands were in his pockets and his whole demeanor gave off a sense of calm.
I took a big breath. "Why did you hate me?"
The look I received from Mason was quick and shocked, his movements faltering slightly. "What?"
I guess I could have had a little more tact.
I shrugged, trying to remain casual, and carried on walking in order to prove so. "I mean, why did you hate me so much? You know, back at home?"
Mason turned to look straight ahead, an impassive look on his face. "I didn't hate you."
I felt a spark of annoyance at his stiff tone, as well as his reply. Of course he would be difficult about this. My laugh in response was strained. "Yeah right. C'mon Mason, you and I both know that you've never liked me. Don't deny it now."
He dug his hands deeper into his pockets and I was surprised by the stony expression that had settled onto his face. He then bit out, "I'm not denying anything. I'm just saying I didn't ever hate you."
I frowned, trying to keep my growing frustration at bay. "Okay fine. You didn't hate me. You just strongly disliked me. Now those technicalities are cleared up, can you answer the question?"
He let out a huff of annoyance.
I carried on however. "Why though? I genuinely want to know what I did—"
"Jesus, Rose, do we really have to talk about this now? Here?" Mason had stopped walking altogether and was now facing me. I was taken aback by the anger radiating off of him, and for a moment was reminded of the Mason I had known a couple of months ago.
During the past few weeks I had forgotten about those cold sneers and sharp insults, becoming familiar with this new, likeable Mason. The guy who was quick to make me laugh and had carried me home only the night before.
But now, seeing him like this, jaw hard and eyes glaring into mine, I took a step back.
I did, however, keep my eyes steady on his, not wanting to show my intimidation.
"Yes. We do. I don't know why you're turning it into such a big deal—"
Mason cut me off with a sharp laugh and I tried not to flinch at the sound. "I'm making a big deal out of this? You're the one stopping us in the middle of the damned street demanding answers—"
"Because I want to know them!" I snapped back, losing my cool.
How had things transformed so quickly? One minute he had been lending me his scarf and now he was the world's biggest ass again.
Mason went silent for a second, taken aback by my outburst. He glanced around at the attention we were starting to attract and lowered his voice a little. "Look Rose, maybe we should—" He started to reach for my wrist, but out of anger I jerked it away, taking a step away from him.
"No," I spat, suddenly emotional. "No." I blinked rapidly, cursing the burning sensation in my eyes. It always happened when I got angry.
Mason noticed my unshed tears and his face morphed into an expression that I couldn't quite place. Guilt, conflict, but something else entirely.
"Rose," he uttered, taking a tentative step towards me.
I retreated, keeping my face down and biting the inside of my cheek to regain some composure.
There was a minute of silence between us. We stood there, not talking, peoples' laughter and conversations floating around us; a painful reminder that we had been in that same state only a couple of moments ago.
"I can't."
I looked up at Mason. Not because of what he'd said, but because of how he'd said it. Never in my life had I heard so much helplessness and pain packed into two small words.
His features were struggling with desperation, his eyes wide with an emotion close to panic, and his mouth pulled down into a twisted grimace. "I can't, Rose," he repeated, his voice hoarse, his dark gold eyes begging me to understand. "I want to tell you. You deserve for me to tell you, God, you deserve so much more than how I've—"
He broke off, running an unsteady hand down his face. "Please. Please try to understand. I can't... I just— I can't. I'm sorry. Jesus—" He took a shuddering breath and instantly I cut off his jagged, desperate sentences by placing my hand on his arm.
"Okay," I said gently, but with enough conviction to calm his growing panic. "Okay. You don't have to tell me. Relax, you don't need to tell me anything."
I could feel his entire body shaking under my hand. Suddenly I was transported back to that moment in the common room a few weeks ago when Mason had lost himself. I had laid my hand on his, waiting for whatever strong emotions that were controlling him to pass.
He brought his head up, his eyes raw, but intense on mine. "I'm sorry," he said again, his voice hoarse and low.
"It's okay," I murmured back, but inside I felt a sharp twist of pain.
And it was in that precise moment I realized I cared for Mason. I cared for Mason Tanner.
I quickly withdrew my hand, stunned at my own sudden realization.
Mason noticed the quick movement but I pretended he hadn't and stared straight ahead, feeling dazed.
I took a shaky breath, feeling overwhelmed by what I was feeling.
I glanced at him and nearly flinched at the wave of emotions rocketing through my chest. He was so handsome. Smooth and firm and strong. A ridiculously attractive boy with an easy smile and a carefree attitude. I didn't know why or how or when I had grown feelings for him, but they were there, so blatant and strong, that I felt like a fool for not picking up on them earlier.
"Rose... are you okay?"
Mason's low voice pulled me out of the turmoil of my thoughts. I looked into his eyes and gave him a tight smile.
"Yeah. We should probably head back though."
I had only taken three steps when Mason's warm hand wrapped around my wrist, and I was once again halted. I closed my eyes briefly at the contact of his skin on mine, but then opened them again, turning to send him an inquiring look.
His face was serious and his eyes were steady on mine, but there was something pleading in his expression. "Please don't be mad at me Rose."
"I'm not mad." I had my eyes trained on his hand, which was still gripping my wrist.
"Rose, you can't even look at me." His voice was heavy with regret and I almost felt bad knowing it was my fault for bringing it up in the first place. But I couldn't take any of it back now; not the words I had said or my feelings for him.
I let out a defeated sigh before bringing my head up and looking him square in the eyes. "I'm not mad Mason." I glanced fleetingly away. "I'm... I'm— I don't know what I am."
I let out a breath, feeling conflicted and confused, and began to speak more words, spurred on by my restless emotions, desperate to get make him understand. Or maybe I was just trying to understand.
"I just— I guess it just sucks, you know? Caring for someone and knowing they can't talk to you about—"
"I talk to you," Mason protested.
I shook my head. "Not really, not about real stuff. I know you love football, I know what your favourite color is, I know the things you allow me to know. I've told you everything. Everything. God Mason, I even told you about my dead dad."
Mason flinched, but I couldn't stop talking. I couldn't stop the words from coming because it was freeing, liberating to speak to my mind.
"And I've never pushed, not once. I never asked again about those pictures in your house. I didn't push you to tell me about your dad or why you treat him like shit. I didn't push you to tell me what the hell happened that day when you sent a mug flying across the room and I'm not going to push you now."
I took a breath. And then my eyes found his. They were dark, glinting with guilt, and it was obvious why. Because despite what I felt, he still wouldn't tell me– couldn't, maybe— and it was hurting him too.
"So I'm not mad, Mason," I uttered, my voice drowned out by the city. "It just hurts."
I was met by silence. Mason's eyes were distant now, trained on something behind me, frowning thoughtfully. Before I had the chance to guess what he was thinking, his gaze met mine again, catching me off guard.
"Why?" he asked, voice low. "Why now, all of a sudden, do you care?"
I blanched. "I— I've always cared—"
"Yet you never tried to ask me, in all the years of knowing me?"
"Well you've never been the most approachable guy," I spat, angry he was suddenly spinning this onto me.
He shrugged, his eyes focused on my face as though he were trying to figure something out. "Yet still. Why now—"
"Why the hell do you care Mason?"
"Why are you so getting defensive?"
"I'm not getting defensive—"
"I'm just trying to understand—"
Rage coursed through me like a flame.
"Understand?!" I exlaimed, losing all control. "You want to understand? I care for you Mason. I care for you."
Mason's entire body stilled in front of me as my words made their impact, as he finally understood the full connotation of them.
"And... and I feel like I'm wasting my time on something that is never going to change," I finished hoarsely, suddenly overwhelmed with tiredness and the longing to speak to my mom.
There were a few beats of silence between us before Mason finally recovered from my words. "You're not wasting your time."
I let out a bitter laugh. "Right."
"You're not."
I just shrugged and began walking again.
But for the second time that night, my wrist was yanked back and I was prevented from walking.
"Jesus, Rose, does everything have to be a debate with you?" Mason groaned, his eyes flashing with irritation. He took a quick step forward. "What the hell do you want from me anyway? A Goddamn poem expressing my feelings?"
The look I gave him was withering. "You think this is a joke?"
"I think you're being dramatic."
My vision was turning red. "And I think you're completely terrified, and have been for a long time, of letting anyone in."
My words threw Mason off guard, his mouth slackening slightly and his eyes rounding with shock. He stared at me, dazed, and I stared back, before slowly his expression darkened, and something dangerous settled in his eyes.
"Screw it," he muttered, his eyes roaming my face as though he were looking at it for the first time.
Screw it? Screw it?!" I yelled, acting like a mad woman. "Well you know what? Screw you Mason Tanner—"
In a split second, Mason caught the hand that was flying towards his face and, with a quick tug towards him, silenced my shouts of anger by pressing his lips to mine.
I froze.
My body, my mind, my breath— everything. Just. Froze.
My mind moved like thick honey, sluggishly, trying to piece together what had happened. What was happening. I felt numb, unable to comprehend that Mason was kissing me. Somehow, we had gone from a yelling match to this and... and now Mason was kissing me.
And just like that, the shock evaporated and I felt everything.
I felt Mason's lips soft but firm against mine, his heart thumping right through his chest and into mine, his hand still wrapped tightly around my wrist while the other cupped my cheek, his thumb running along my jaw, tilting my head up to meet his.
A feeling of warmth blossomed within me, and finally my body found the capability to respond. But just as I began to lean into his touch, Mason pulled away, obviously aware of my body's lack of response.
He looked down at me with shadowed eyes, a tuft of blond hair hanging low over his forehead. His expression was one of shock, like he couldn't believe what he had just done, as well as a faint disappointment.
"I'm—" He cleared his throat as a faint flush spread across the top of his cheekbones. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—"
This time I was the one to shut him up. I reached up onto my tiptoes and silenced his mouth with my own, clutching his shoulders close to me.
Mason only took a second to respond, before wrapping his arms around my lower back, holding me tightly to his body, as though I might try and run away. His lips moved expertly against mine, and I enthusiastically followed, keeping up with his quick and fierce pace.
Kissing Mason was beyond explainable. I had kissed other guys before, but none of them had ever made me feel what Mason was making me feel. He made me hot and exhilarated and desperate for something I hadn't even known I'd wanted. I sunk deeper into his embrace, loving the feel of his palms on my lower back and loving the heat that came off of them.
When Mason nipped at my bottom lip with his teeth, a shiver of pleasure ran up my spine, and I quickly snaked my arms around his neck, tugging at the soft hair that lay against his nape. Mason must have liked that because he made a low noise in the back of his throat before tilting his head and bringing a hand to the back of my neck, deepening the kiss.
My face was burning with heat and my legs felt flimsier than noodles. I couldn't get enough. All I could think, breathe, smell and taste was Mason.
Finally I broke apart, purely for health reasons, and turned my face to take in gulps of oxygen.
Mason leant down and placed a soft, open mouthed kiss against my jaw. My eyes fluttered shut at his touch.
We stayed like that for a while, our chests heaving, our arms entangled, and our faces close, cheek touching cheek.
Our breathing began to gradually slow and it was then that Mason spoke.
"You know," he murmured huskily, his lips brushing my ear and sending goosebumps down my spine.
I tensed slightly, suddenly nervous of what he was about to say.
"You know we just full-on made out in the middle of the street. In Central London."
I needn't have worried. Leave it to Mason to evaporate any sense of awkwardness. I let out a breathy laugh, curling my arms tighter around his neck. "You always have been attention-seeking."
I felt Mason's grin rather than saw it. His hands slowly slipped down to my lower back and I let my eyes flutter shut at the security of his palm against my lower back.
"All I'm saying is that it's a little hypocritical of you since you've condemned me for PDA in a library before. A private one, I might add."
"Really?" I asked, pulling my head back to look at him. "You're really going to talk to me about kissing another girl right now?"
Mason's eyes glittered with humor and my heart almost broke as I took in his strong and perfect features. "You're right," he admitted, bending down to brush his lips against mine, his eyes burning amber. "You'll have to excuse the lack of my usual charm right now. I'm finding it difficult to think."
I smiled against his lips. "I know thinking isn't one of your fortes." I breathed, letting my eyes shut as Mason leaned his forehead against mine.
At that he poked me in the ribs, making me squeal and jump away from his embrace.
Just like that the mood had broken, but I didn't mind.
Suddenly the rest of the world came back to me, the cars and people and traffic lights, and I stood there staring at Mason, a smile tugging at my lips. He did the same, his eyes slightly hooded, and his lips pursed into an almost rueful smile.
"We should probably head back," I stated after a moment, my cheeks suddenly coloring under Mason's gaze.
He ran a hand through his already tousled hair, and gave me a nod. "Yeah, okay."
I raised an eyebrow at him. "You're not going to grab me by the wrist again are you?"
He sent me an innocent smile. "You're not going to attempt to slap me for a third time are you?"
The corners of my mouth quirked up against my will. "That depends whether you decide to act like an idiot again or not."
Mason rolled his eyes before strolling past me, his hands in his pockets and a boyish grin tugging at his lips. "I knew kissing you would inflate your ego."
I narrowed my eyes at his back.
I carried on looking at him as he walked, confident and comfortable in his skin, walking like he owned the whole damn street. I couldn't help but smile.
Wrapping my arms around myself, I dipped my head and buried my nose into the softness of Mason's scarf, inhaling his sweet scent. My moved across the bustling city before settling on the London Eye in the distance. It stood tall and large, rotating slowly and purposefully, watching the city beneath it. I felt warm inside.
"You coming? Or are you planning on setting up camp on the sidewalk?"
I turned to face Mason before rolling my eyes at his comment. However, I made my way to his side.
Looking up at him I said, "You know someone once told me that sarcasm is the lowest form of wit?"
Mason flashed me a sideways glance, his lips tugging up into a smile.
"Well that someone obviously wasn't very funny then."