Sure enough, the moment Mason steps through, the detector flashes red and blares loudly. A crowd of curious heads snap toward him, and I know he hates the added attention. A security guard waves him to the side, and the rest of us shuffle forward without issue. We wait just past the gates as he gets a thorough pat down, his jaw tight, eyes fixed on some distant point beyond the crowd.
When he finally rejoins us, his shirt is rumpled and there’s a flush creeping up his neck.
“Let’s find our seats,” he says briskly, ushering the girls toward the escalators.
We climb to the upper level and wind our way through a sea of fans, creeping at a snail’s pace until we reach our section. The girls claim the three seats in front and start trading handmade friendship bracelets with nearby fans. Mason and I take the two just behind them, the arena buzzing around us.
I glance over. His shoulders are hunched, hands clasped tightly between his knees.
“You okay?” I ask quietly.
“I’m fine,” he says, but his voice is tight. “Crowds just make me uncomfortable. And I hate when my diabetes turns into some kind of public spectacle. Feels like everyone’s staring, even when they’re not.”
A frown tugs at my lips. “I’m sorry, Mase.”
The lights dim suddenly, a wave of screams erupting from every corner of the arena. Maddie turns around, eyes sparkling. “The opener is starting!”
Mason forces a smile for her sake, but when his gaze drifts back to the stage, I see the truth in his posture. His shoulders are locked, spine rigid, every muscle strung tight beneath his shirt.
A boy with an acoustic guitar takes the stage. I vaguely remember him from some TV talent show a few years back. His voice is decent, and I recognize one of his songs from the radio.
“I’m gonna grab a beer. Want one?” Mason asks abruptly.
“Um, sure. Thanks.”
He grunts in response, sliding past the knees of the people in our row and disappearing into the crowd.
During the next song transition, Maddie turns toward me, narrowing her eyes. They’re the same color as Mason’s. “So… you and Mase have gotten pretty close, huh?”
I swallow. “Um, I guess so.”
“He told me you’re only in Claremont Shores for the summer, doing research.”
“That’s right.”
Her brow arches. “And after summer? Still gonna be…friends?” she asks slowly.
My pulsestutters. Mason hasn’t come out to her officially, but the way she asks makes it obvious she knows—and doesn’t care. I bite the inside of my cheek.
“It’s complicated. We’re both… really busy.”
She frowns, like she’s about to press, but the opener announces this is his last song and Harmony Heartz is next. She and her friends erupt into squeals, bouncing in place.
Mason reappears, balancing two sweating cans of beer. He hands me one without meeting my eyes.
“Thanks,” I murmur.
The lights cut out completely, and the crowd erupts. Spotlights sweep the stage, bass thundering through the floor. Multi-colored laser beams scatter across the arena. Then five Harmony Heartz boys rocket onto the stage platform in coordinated outfits.
The girls in front of us lose their minds.
The first song kicks in— an upbeat pop tune about being young and free. I don’t know the words, but my foot taps along despite myself.
I take a swig of beer and lean toward Mason, raising my voice over the screams. “Okay… I’ll admit it. That one—” I nod toward a tall member with shaggy brown hair and a sharp jawline— “is actually really cute.”
Mason snorts, but it’s short, sharp. He glances at me incredulously. “Seriously?”
“Don’t give me that look. I Googled them before we came—the youngest is eighteen. They’re all legal.”
