He lowered his head and pressed his lips to mine.
My brain struggled to catch up. Was he…?
Oh my God.Mason was kissing me.
Shock cascaded from the top of my skull all the way down to my toes. His mouth was moving against mine, but I was too stunned to do anything but stand there and make useless observations. His lips were very soft. He smelled like home. Like campfires down in the pit, and morning dew in the field outside our high school, and Annie’s tar-black coffee. His hand was in my hair now, his other on the small of my back. It felt shockingly good. So good I couldn’t breathe.
And then it was over as suddenly as it had started. My eyes fluttered open to see his chest rise and fall. He was staring down at me, his blue eyes swimming with heat and regret.
My heart was about to jump out of my chest. “Mase—”
He shook his head, silencing me. “This is goodbye, Molly.”
I choked on what had to be impending tears. What kind of an ass-backward goodbye was that? That kiss felt like a beginning, not an end.
“Why would—”
“I shouldn’t have done that,” he said, running a hand through his hair.
That stung. Was kissing me so bad he regretted it immediately?
“You’re fucking stupid,” I bit out, channeling my pain into anger. “And one day, you’ll regret this.”
His nostrils flared, and for a moment he looked genuinely hurt. Good. Maybe he felt a fraction of what I did.
Without another word, I left his room, slamming the door behind me.
2
MOLLY
Lindsay accostedme as soon as I returned to the living room. “What happened?”
“They’re really dropping out,” I said numbly, my mind still replaying that kiss. I was questioning my resolve to not drink tonight. Maybe a shot or two would help take the edge off. I was in no headspace to study after what had happened, and if I didn’t have an excuse for not getting back to work, Lindsay would pick up on something being wrong. I didn’t want to tell her about the kiss. I wanted to carve the memory out of my brain and burn it on a pyre.
“You didn’t manage to talk any sense into him?”
“No.” I eyed the kitchen. “I think I want a drink.”
Lindsay didn’t argue. We got ourselves two shots of tequila, threw them back, and made disgusted faces at the taste. Neither of us were big drinkers, but I didn’t have time to regret my decision. The liquor burned its way down my throat and pooled at the bottom of my belly. Some of the dark haze around me lifted.
“Oh my God,” Lindsay whisper yelled into my ear. “Look! They’re going to play spin the bottle.”
I craned my neck to see what was going on in the middle of the living room. A space was opening up, and Brock was in its center, holding a half-full bottle of Jack above his head and inviting people to join in.
“Brock is playing.” She whirled around, her dark hair fanning out around her face, and gave me a significant look. “Please, Mol. We have to join in.”
I was already one unexpected kiss deep into the night, and I wasn’t in any rush to get another one. “I’ll pass, but go ahead.”
We pushed our way toward the sloppily formed circle, and I nudged Lindsay inside.
“You girls playing?” Brock asked. He was wearing his football jersey, and his auburn hair was slicked back with what seemed to me like too much product. I could smell the Axe body spray from a few feet away.
Despite all this, Lindsay was staring at him as if he was our Lord and Savior gracing us with his presence.
“She is.” I jerked my head in Lindsay’s direction.
Brock eyed us both and then shook his head. “You both gotta play.”
