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Knowing that I couldn’t do just that made it worse. It made me want to kiss her more. Out of nowhere. Accidentally. Mid-laugh. Mid-sentence. The first time I saw her. Just before goodbye.
Any one of those situations would work, but I couldn’t.
It was off-limits.
Intimacy was. She’d made it clear. I’d agreed. I respected her wishes on that, and I figured she was probably mortified at the fact she’d accidentally kissed me.
She blushed at the slightest thing as it was—something like last night probably had her cheeks on fire all damn night.
The thought of that made me snort. I didn’t care what she said. She looked fucking adorable when she blushed, and I wouldn’t change my mind no matter how many times she argued with me.
There wasn’t long left of this charade. After the party tomorrow night, we only had two or three weeks left, and we didn’t even really have to see each other.
It wouldn’t be hard to get through. All we had to do was keep our distance. I had a feeling that would be a lot harder for me than it was for Lauren. She was controlled, and I… was not.
At all.
I was definitely more of an impulsive person, which made it all the more impressive that I hadn’t grabbed her and kissed the fuck out of her last night. That was what I really wanted to do, and it was a damn good thing that we had today to not see each other at all.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I put down the sandwich I was halfway through unwrapping and pulled it out, brushing dust from my jeans.
LAUREN: So… About last night.
I grinned. I should have figured this would come sooner rather than later.
MASON: What about it?
Her response was immediate.
LAUREN: It never happened.
MASON: What never happened?
LAUREN: You know.
MASON: I definitely don’t.
LAUREN: Don’t fuck with me, Mason.
MASON: I’m not. I don’t know what you’re talking about.
LAUREN: The kiss, jerkface.
I shook my head. She was usually as sharp as a knife, but fuck me dead, sometimes she wasn’t all there.
MASON: I know what you’re talking about.
LAUREN: Then why would you say you didn’t?!?!?!
MASON: You said it never happened. I was playing along.
LAUREN: Oh.
LAUREN: Well, this is awkward.
MASON: Not as awkward as what didn’t happen last night.
LAUREN: True. Look, it was an accident. I went for your cheek.
MASON: I know. Don’t sweat it. I’m not going to jump your bones because we both went for the cheek, Lauren. I’m capable of controlling myself.
LAUREN: I never said you weren’t.
MASON: If I weren’t able to control myself, I’d have fucked you ten times already.
I tore a bite from my sandwich with a grin as time ticked by without a response from her. I couldn’t touch her, sure, but it didn’t mean I couldn’t screw with her a little. In fact, messing with her was becoming a favorite hobby of mine. One I’d miss when this little charade was all said and done.
She was the easiest person to wind up—it was like hitting a light switch and boom, she was riled. And when she got like that, her eyes shone, and she turned into a little spitfire.
Fuck.
I had to stop thinking like that.
How had I gone from being vehemently against a relationship to this? To thinking about Lauren this way?
Thankfully, my phone buzzed again, which meant I didn’t have to think anymore about it.
LAUREN: Is that really appropriate here? If you’re trying to rile me, it’s not working. All you’re doing is making this more awkward than it needs to be.
MASON: You sound riled to me.
LAUREN: I’ll rile my foot into your balls.
MASON: Feisty.
LAUREN: You’re insufferable. Don’t you have anything better to do?
MASON: No. I’m on my lunch break. Don’t you? Or are you binge-watching on Netflix again?
LAUREN: I don’t have to explain myself to you.
MASON: You’re binge-watching Netflix.
LAUREN: I was. But Henry’s sitting on my head and I can’t get the remote.
MASON: You really need to do something about that cat.
LAUREN: Absolutely not. He’s a great judge of character. The head-sitting is a thing.
MASON: What does it mean?
LAUREN: That he’s an unruly little fucking asshole.
MASON: How does that play into him being a great judge of character?
LAUREN: Omg can you stop dissecting everything I say? You’re a builder, not a psychologist. Go and fix it, Bob.
MASON: Did you just use a Bob the Builder reference on me?
LAUREN: Depends if you can fix it or not. Does your digger talk like Bob’s?
MASON: I can’t talk to you when you’re like this. It’s impossible.
LAUREN: That is the word on the street. For a difficult and impossible conversation, call Lauren Green.
MASON: I’ll be sure to write that on the wall of the next public bathroom I use.
LAUREN: Don’t forget my phone number.
MASON: It’s already on the internet.
LAUREN: I need a new number.
MASON: Good. Get one in two weeks. That’s how we break up. You get a new number and ghost me.
