Song: Chasing Fire - Lauv

*

Mason

We reached the apartment in just over fifteen minutes, like I'd promised.

Ever had obviously been uncomfortable with those heels she'd chosen to wear. She kept making a small, pained noise every two minutes.

I had begun to inwardly flinch with every tap it made on the surface of the street, feeling the pain with her.

Heck, I would have offered to carry her, but with that red dress of hers...it was something both of us didn't need.

She had worn a dress for him.

I had gone batshit crazy when I saw her walk out with Caleb. Caleb of all people.

Seeing her with that goddamn red dress...

Another part wanted nothing more than to pry away Caleb's inconvenient fingers from hers when they had their hands clasped together.

He was comforting her, protecting her...from me.

And I would have been fine with it. He was everything she needed. I would have let him try for her in peace after today, like he so clearly wanted me to.

Caleb was different to me in the sense that he had clear goals, and an objective mind. Once he wanted something, he would go out of his way to get it. He knew how to prioritise.

But he'd left her.

He'd left her at that bar, alone.

I knew she was there, but it was difficult to keep an eye on her with so many moving bodies while she was so far away.

When I finally found her, her hair was undone, her face covered in tears, and that douche was gripping on her arm and touching her chest.

I exploded.

I knew Caleb would be annoyed that I brought Gabby along with me. I just wish that vexation hadn't been reflected in Ever's eyes as well.

What was wrong with me?

Why did I care what she felt for me? I found myself going over every single word I'd exchanged with her, over and over.

She already thought I was an asshole, so there was not much I could lose.

As for that fucking tool that tried to touch her...

I would have killed him.

I would have ripped him apart with my bare hands if I could help anything.

Seeing the look of pure fear on her face made me inexplicably angry.

It made me angry because I knew true fear all too well, and I would not have wished that sort of feeling on anyone.

But I quickly realized that there were smarter ways to deal with problems. I had Logan take a picture of him, and let him run away on his pathetic little legs.

After all, there was only so far he could run.

She was quiet for most of the time we walked back to the apartment. Again, it hadn't felt right.

I knew that I had planned to stay away from her, to protect her from myself, but she was like a ray of sunshine and I was so very, very cold.

So starved of warmth, and attracted to her in more ways than one—ways I failed to understand no matter how hard I tried.

So when she asked me to teach her self defence, my impulse reaction was to say yes. But instead I'd spewed out some shit about not being professional enough.

And she hadn't taken any of it.

Ever was persistent and stubborn, but maybe that was what I wanted. What I needed.

I agreed. It was inarguably one of the most stupid and selfish things I had done in my life, but I agreed.

Because as much as I wanted to stay away, life seemed to be the ocean that was constantly reeling me back to Everly Reed; the golden shore.

The silver doors of the elevators snapped me from my thoughts, bringing me back to reality. I reached for the button — at the same time she did.

She pulled away like I had some sort of disease.

I didn't know whether to laugh or be offended.

We stood next to each other in the elevator, the silence deafening.

The sight of our opposing white apartment doors greeted us. We both stopped, and I turned to face her.

She was just standing in front of me, unmoving.

"This is where we part," I said, unable to keep the corner of my mouth from lifting.

She nodded, swallowing. I was about to swipe my access card when her voice stopped me.

"Mason," she said.

I turned, waiting for her to continue.

"Thank you," she said, her voice clear and cheeks a stunning shade of pink. "I know I say that a lot and I mess up things a lot too, but really, thank you."

When she stopped, I was still staring at her cheeks. She noticed, and I blinked, clearing my throat.

What she said finally sunk in. Did she think it was her fault?

"You didn't mess up," I replied, my voice low, "and you did nothing wrong. Never blame yourself for someone else's wrong choices, you hear me?"

Her smile was small, as though she was trying to hide it when she nodded, but I caught it anyway. I swiped the card, and entered my place before I did anything stupid.

God. That smile—it damn near killed me.

It was lethal.

I needed a doctor. Was my heart supposed to be beating this fucking fast?

I had given myself to girls before. Countless times. And those feelings that came with it, pleasure, power, little bits of temporary bliss—I'd felt them all.

But nothing—nothing had come close to what I felt when I held Ever against my chest. I was on fire for her. Me, the cold, reckless asshole of the century.

I couldn't shrug off her scent. Berries and jasmine—she didn't even have to touch me to get me high.

I sat down, running a hand through my hair to keep myself calm.

It was an upper class club, I thought. The idiot that assaulted her had to have had some sort of status to enter, but obviously no manners to show for it. If I was going to get him, I had to be smart. And quick.

Caleb had a high position in our father's company. Valdez & Sons— as much as the title made me scoff—was a flourishing oil and gas corporation, but owned countless other companies, including technological ones.

I knew what I had to do, and as much as I didn't want to do it, I wasn't doing it for myself. I was doing it for Ever. It was something I hadn't done in almost two years.

I called my brother.

I didn't even know if he had my number saved on his phone. He answered within thirty seconds, probably taken by surprise to see my caller ID.

"Mason?" Caleb said, and like I'd predicted, his voice was stunned.

"Yes, it's me. I'd have loved to be a prank caller who threatened to kill you just to see your reaction, but alas, you had my number saved."

"Mason, cut the shit, man, I'm busy right now," he said.

I gritted my teeth. No one could get on my nerves like this guy. "I'm trying to get to the point, you fucker."

"Okay," he said, slowly, "you have thirty seconds."

"Shut the hell up, man. I have as much time as I want."

"Look, Mason, I don't have to listen to you—"

"You left her there alone," I said, "so you will listen."

I was getting a feeling he was really going to cut the call soon if I didn't stop trying to piss him off.

He sighed at the other end, waiting for me to continue.

"If I send you a picture, you can pull up everything about that person, am I right?" I asked.

"Yes," he said, after a while.

"I need you to do something for me," I said.

"What?"

"I sent you a picture. Of a guy. An absolute fucking dickhead of a guy."

"Mason—"

"Press charges," I said. "Find him and put him behind bars. For as long as possible."

The asshole who assaulted Ever would only get a few months of jail time and would probably have to pay a fine, but it was good enough.

I hadn't forgotten that bartender, either. "And you need to send a message to another one of my friends..."

*

Ever

When my alarm came on the next morning, I felt like fresh hell.

My eyes felt as though they were glued together, and my feet ached. I was pretty sure they had blistered. Those heels weren't by any means cheap, but I rarely wore them and they hadn't broken in yet.

So the last thing I wanted to do was wake up. Knowing painfully well that I would regret it, I tapped the snooze option to wake me up at 5:30 instead. Surely thirty minutes would be enough for me to get ready.

*

Thirty minutes was not enough for me to get ready. 

I scrambled out of bed, tripping over my sheets in the process. Glancing at the mirror, I quickly realized, was a big mistake.

I looked like a crack addict who just walked into a moving bus.  

My eyes had dark patches around them so I looked like a new and endangered panda species, and my hair was the equivalent of a male lion's mane.

Actually, scratch that, it was an insult to male lions around the world.

Resisting the urge to scream, I burst into the bathroom to brush my teeth. At this rate, I was almost certain my gums were going to disappear in a few years. 

Then I stripped and jumped into the shower. All hopes of getting out quickly vanished when the warm water hit my skin. It felt so good, I didn't feel like getting out.

The thought of Mason's pissed off face when I came out late flashed in my mind, and I widened my eyes, pulling down the towel and immediately drying myself.

When I got out, I checked the time on my phone.

5:55 am

Shit, shit, shit. 

I hadn't even dried my hair yet. 

Well, wet hair would have to do. There were no rules against it, anyway. 

I decided to wear a sports bra, because I didn't want my boobs bouncing all over the place.

I pulled on a pair of black leggings and shoved my arms through a SpongeBob shirt that said "Krusty Krab Pizza Is The Pizza For You And Me."

My eyes latched on to the black leather jacket slung over the chair. Mason's. He'd leant it to me last night. I picked it up and slung it over my arm.

Stumbling out the apartment, I met the gaze of a very amused Mason.

His eyes seemed to hold a sharp gold glint. He tilted his head as he caught sight of my pitiful appearance.

My heart seemed to jolt in its ribcage at the sight of him.

"You're eight minutes late," he said.

My eye twitched. Deep breaths, I reminded myself, deep breaths. 

"Yeah," I said tersely. "Sorry about that."

Mason's smirk was infuriating. "Cretin," I muttered under my breath.

He lifted his brows. "Nice vocabulary. Fighting the dumb blonde stereotype really hard there."

I bit down on my molars. "You weren't supposed to hear that."

"Unfortunately for both of us, I hear every word that comes tumbling from your lips, blondie," he mused.

His eyes lowered to my lips, then back up, and then he had the nerve to wink.

I ignored it.

"Oh, and you should really think twice before you sneak past my apartment door like some sort of modern-day Stalin," Mason leered. "I have security cameras."

Surely enough, when I looked above his door, there was a small black camera situated right above it.

My cheeks were ablaze, and I stood in front of him for a good few seconds, drowning in my own dry pool of embarrassment.

I'd been sneaking past his door for the past few days so that he wouldn't hear me and be reminded of my existence.

The whole thing seemed pretty counterproductive now.

"I have your jacket," I muttered, in a desperate aim to change the subject.

His eyes latched on to the jacket in my arm.

"Keep it," he said, "you're going to need it for the ride."

"Uh... okay." 

"Nice shirt," he muttered, turning his back to me and walking.

I followed him, ignoring his comment about my shirt. With him, I couldn't decipher whether it was a genuine compliment or just another jab at me.

"Where are we going?" I asked, widening my stride to keep up with him.

"The garage," he said, "I asked the boys to clear up for me."

I wasn't sure I wanted to go back there, to see all those sketchy guys who stared me like I was fresh meat.

Mason looked at me, his stance shifting. "Most of them aren't there. I'll be with you the whole time," he said.

I exhaled, his words offering some consolation. As much as I didn't want to admit it, I felt safe with Mason. And I had never felt more safe than when his arms were around me last night.

The thought brought a fresh bout of blood to my cheeks, and I ducked my head and scurried after him.

We came to an abrupt halt just before his motorcycle.

He'd really done a good job with it. It was perfect, and I couldn't even pinpoint where I'd bashed into it.

I really hoped he wasn't one of those guys who named his motorcycles.

"We're taking Rebecca," he announced.

I resisted the urge to slap my forehead in frustration. I guess I spoke too soon.

"Rebecca?"

"Yes," he said, staring at me while he  dusted something imaginary off the bike seat, "Rebecca. It's a long story."

I hated it when people did that. Obviously you had to ask, and they wanted you to ask too. I couldn't resist the temptation.

"I wanna know," I said, not caring that I sounded like a spoiled little child. "Tell me."

Mason's expression faltered. "You really don't want to know, blondie," he said.

"No," I said, "what part of 'I wanna know' did you translate to 'you really don't want to know,' huh?"

He looked at me, amused. "Fine, but don't say I didn't warn you."

I pursed my lips. The suspense was killing me. "Go on."

"There was this girl in high school. Sort of that girl everyone wants to be or fuck," Mason said.

I squirmed slightly, my cheeks warming, and he noticed. If I didn't know better I would say he was enjoying watching me squirm.

"Sorry," he said, sounding as close to sympathy as a Mason could sound, "do it with."

I narrowed my eyes at him. Like that was any better.

"Five cents if you can guess her name," he said.

I swallowed, knowing full well that I'd walked into this with open arms. "Rebecca," I mumbled quietly, the word stinging when I articulated it.

"Ding ding ding!" Mason mused. "We have ourselves a winner."

He dug out a coin from his back pocket and flipped it to me with ease. I caught it in the palm of my hand, stuffing it into the pocket of my leggings—they were my favorite pair, only because of the pockets, which were unusual for leggings.

"You still want to know?" he asked.

I didn't, but there was no going back. It was too late now. I nodded.

Mason bit back a smile.

"I had a small thing for her, and my friends found out and gave me shit for it. I asked her out and she laughed in my face. Unknown to me, she was with this Italian stud, and apparently my Mexican ass wasn't exotic enough for her."

I cringed. That was a bit harsh of her. I couldn't say Mason didn't deserve it, even a small bit of it, though.

"What did you do then?" I said.

His face lit up with a mischievous glint I knew could mean nothing good.

"I rescued this motorcycle from a junkyard, named her Rebecca, and rode Rebecca to work every day."

I coughed, thankful that the only thing I'd managed to shove in my mouth this morning was an apple.

"That is absolutely vile, Mason. What on God's green earth?"

He shrugged, running a hand through the hair at the nape of his neck. "I was an idiot back then."

"You're an idiot right now, too, but okay," I muttered.

He offered me a flat glare, and I grimaced, staring at the mechanical black beauty in front of me.

"I'm not sure I can get on this cycle without mentally scarring myself."

"If I didn't know any better I'd say you were jealous," Mason quipped.

What?

"I'm not jealous." I huffed. "Where'd you get that from?"

Mason's smirk was as deep as sin.

"Don't worry, blondie," he said, winking, "if you really want to, you can ride me later."

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