AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Her eyes are a pale blue, with light reddish eyebrows of a true strawberry blonde. But her lashes are thick and dark, and obviously fake; I can tell because one of the corners is slightly off-kilter.
I don’t tell her because I get the sense that would embarrass her, and I don’t want to make her uncomfortable.
“You might not like what you hear,” I warn her instead.
“And I might like it better than some of your lines,” she retorts with a quirk of her lips.
“Hey!” I rear back, hand on my chest. “I’ve got some very good lines.”
“And I’d rather just getyou. No lines. Truth.”
Because that’s what this is turning out to be tonight. Me. And her.
I’m surprised how much I’m enjoying it. Enjoying her—a woman who clearly didn’t think much of me at the beginning of the evening.
Now? I think I’ve changed her opinion of me. “Fair enough. Only truth tonight?” I hold out my hand, and Fiona shakes it, her grasp firm and assured.
That’s when I realize I like this girl; like the inside even as much as the outside.
And that thought is absolutely terrifying.
Chapter Five
Fiona
“Whatdidyousacrificeto play ball?” I prompt, leaning my chin on my fist. The nightclub, with the pounding music and lively dance floor, fades into the distance as I study Mase like he’s a problem I can solve.
He needs to be sorted correctly, categorized properly, because I’ve had it all wrong.
It took only a few minutes after we sat down for me to realize I judged him too harshly. I hate when I realize I’ve done something wrong, especially something like this. I’ve spent the last couple of months standing by Bexley as social media pokes and prods her life, the world feeling the need to comment, at least on the part of her life they found through social media.
My social media.
Because Bexley has never had any use for posting pics and reels on Insta, Suitor fans—and the haters—ripped apart my feed to find information on her and Grayson. I was judged, choices questioned, my very appearance criticized. Eventually I had to shut down my account. I, of all people, should understand that everything on the Internet is not how it really is.
But there’s so much good stuff about Mase.
Good, as in juicy dirt, like his relationships with supermodel Elena Park and Olympic gymnast Willa Simone, not to mention the scandal with pseudo-celebrity Emelia. I’ve seen Mase in a suit at the Met Gala, shirtless walking along a beach, and jumping off a yacht off some Greek island.
That picture went viral because Mase happened to be sans bathing suit at the time.
My cheeks heat up just thinking about it. What am I doing sitting in a booth with him? Or, better yet, why is he still here with me?
“You really want to know?” Mase asks skeptically.
“You say that like no one wants to know the real you.”
“Why would they when the stuff they read is so much more interesting?”
It’s like he’s reading my mind. “I like a good story, especially romance,” I say, veering away from the made-up stories on the Internet, and focusing on my favourite type of fiction. “I’m all about romance—ill-fated love stories, enemies to lovers, heartbreak, unrequited love—“
“Don’t forget your wolf shifters.”
“You can never forget wolf shifters. But I’m a smart girl, and most times I prefer fact over fiction. At least about what I read online.”
Mase smiles ruefully and his eyes are wary. “My family thinks I gave up too much to play ball. That I should be doing other things, better things, than working on my hobby.”
“They call playing professional sports a hobby?”
