Chapter 10
Mason
I woke with a start. The room was dark.
For a second, I didn’t understand why. My brain felt slow, heavy, like I’d been dragged up from deep water. Then it hit me. I’d slept through the afternoon.
“Shit.”
I fumbled for my phone on the bedside table, squinting at the bright screen. 7:56 PM.
My stomach dropped. There was a message from Levi.
Be there in 5.
Sent over an hour ago.
“Shit,” I repeated, louder this time.
I scrambled out of bed, grabbing the first shirt I could find and pulling it over my head as I stumbled toward the door. I didn’t even bother checking the mirror. My hair was probably sticking up in every direction.
As I hurried down the stairs, the sound of a video game filtered up from the living room, filled with bright electronic music, the revving whine of engines, and bursts of groaning and cheering.
“—no, no, drift now!” someone yelled over the chaos.
“That was my boost!”
“You cut me off!”
I slowed slightly at the bottom of the stairs and peeked into the living room.
The coffee table was a mess of takeout containers, half-empty boxes, and scattered sauce packets, with soda and beer cans pushed to the edges. The TV flickered with a chaotic race of cartoonish go-karts speeding through a bright track, items flashing and flying across the screen.
Nico and Tony were sprawled on opposite ends of the couch, each eating straight from their takeout boxes while clutching controllers. Levi sat on the floor, leaning back against the couch. Two others sat nearby, one broad-shouldered guy focused intently on the screen, the other leaning forward and animatedly pointing at it.
Nico spotted me first. “Hey, you’re finally up!”
Everyone glanced over briefly.
“That’s Griffin,” Nico added, nodding toward the broad-shouldered man. Griffin barely acknowledged me, too focused on the race.
“And that’s Michael,” Nico continued, gesturing at the other guy.
Michael gave me a quick nod before immediately turning back. “Brake—brake—okay now boost, boost!”
Griffin grunted in concentration.
Levi’s amused gaze slowly slid over me, from my messy hair down to my bare feet. His eyes lingered for half a second at my waist, and I realized my shirt had ridden up, exposing a strip of skin.
Heat rushed to my face.
I tugged the shirt down quickly, trying to smooth it out, then ran a hand through my hair, which probably only made it worse.
On the TV, a triumphant jingle played as the race ended.
Michael pumped his fist in the air. “Yes!”
Nico groaned. “I hate this track.”
