Mason’s dad’s eyes grow big. “Wow. I bet you’re so excited!”
Luca nods at him, continuing to color.
For the next hour or so, Mason’s parents and I have a great conversation. I’d seen them briefly at his and my brother’s college graduation years ago but was never formally introduced. They are both so friendly and kind. I’m embarrassed to say that I’m surprised by how nice they are because of the way I’ve always labeled Mason.
My mom leans closer to Terri and Mason’s dad, striking up a new conversation.
A buzzing on my side alerts me that I have a text.
Mason: That fucking dress.
My stomach drops, forcing a sharp inhale. Fuuuuuuck, Mason drives me wild. I need to send him a witty response, but I can’t think straight. Squeezing my eyes together, I respond.
Me: You don’t like my dress?
I keep my head angled downward, clutching my phone in my hands, only lifting my lashes to frantically search the restaurant for him. My gaze curves around the bar, immediately falling onto a pair of emerald eyes pinning me from a short distance away. They’re the only part of him I see as he’s wearing all black, blending in perfectly with the shadows of the dimly lit restaurant.
My heart races, feeling the heat of his glare blazing through me. He’s leaning against the wall in the hallway that leads to the back office and kitchen. He has one leg crossed over the other, using one hand to text while the other is tucked into the pocket of his black dress pants.
Mason: It would look better bunched up around your waist while you’re bent over my bar.
Frozen in place, my face flushes while my focus pops from one person to the other at our table, suddenly feeling like everyone can see his messages as well. I smile nervously as they all talk amongst themselves, drinking wine and eating—obviously unaware of my rapidly increasing body temperature and general tension.
Me: It’s embarrassing how bad you want me.
Mason: You’ve become an addiction that I cannot deny.
Me: You need a life and maybe some more friends. It’s a lot of work being your addiction.
Mason: Somebody’s feisty tonight. I’m not going to feel as bad now when I rip that tight dress off you later.
I bring my eyes back to his; he’s still staring at me leaning against the wall. I bite the side of my lip, grinning through it. Just then, our eye contact is broken when a tall, blond man with a black collared shirt like Mason’s steps right in front of him, obstructing our view of each other.
My fucking brother.
For the rest of the evening, I only catch glimpses of that blonde woman near Mason a few more times. The raging jealousy I feel is out of character, and I’m annoyed by its appearance, especially over him. He’smyfuck buddy, not hers.
After Luca gets his unnecessarily large ice cream sundae, my parents eventually take him back to my condo, where they’ll put him to bed and then stay until I get home. Lina, Avery, and I hang around the restaurant a little longer, chatting and enjoying cocktails.
Mason: Are you up?
I take a minute to stare at my phone before responding. He seemed pretty flirtatious with that girl at the restaurant tonight, and for some reason, it’s still bothering me. I shouldn’t feel this way, but how could I not? I’ve never been in an arrangement like ours before. Sure, I’ve had one-night stands. Surprisingly, that’s not been a problem. Most of the time, I’m the one pushing the guy away to keep things separate from Luca.
I bet he’s texting me because the random girl from his restaurant won’t put out. But me? I will. Because I want to be fucked by Mason. He makes me come harder and deeper than I ever have. That shit’s addicting. I swallow my pride and remind myself that I am benefiting from this arrangement too.
Me: I am.
Mason: Can I come over?
Me: Luca is home. I don’t want him to see you here this late.
Mason: I’ll be quiet. I promise.
Me: I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to come up though.
I sigh to myself, feeling disappointed.
Mason: Too late. I’m at your door.
