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I glanced down and realized I was wearing the t-shirt I’d borrowed from his room that morning I snuck out after the party. But how—
Hazy images filled my head. His scowl as he approached me at the bar. His strong arms lifting me off my unsteady feet. His warm muscular body enveloping mine, his steady breath fanning the back of my neck.
Dear God, Mason had brought me home, practically carried me up to my room, undressed me, and then spent the night.
Because you begged him to stay.
Embarrassment welled inside me, but it quickly softened into something else as I eyed the little paper bag. Mason didn’t only spend the night; he snuck out this morning to get me coffee.
Mason Steele got me hangover snacks and left me two Advil.
I didn’t want to read too much into it, but I couldn’t imagine he ran around campus doing that for many people.
Don’t do it, Harper. Don’t run away with yourself.
Mason had made his feelings on there ever being anything more between us perfectly clear. I had to respect that.
So I drank the coffee, swallowed the Advil, ate the gluten-free brownies, and allowed myself to text Mason a simple, safe reply.
Harper: Thank you. xo
CHAPTER21
MASON
I read her reply again.
Short and sweet and to the point.
So why did it leave a bitter taste in my mouth?
Shit. I hadn’t wanted to leave her this morning. To sneak out without waking her. But I’d made a promise to my brother, one I couldn’t break. So I’d managed to untangle Harper from my body, since she’d slept most of the night wrapped around me like a koala, and got out undetected.
I’d even managed to bring her some hangover supplies from Roast ‘n’ Go.
She’d looked so fucking peaceful, her golden hair spread out around her like a halo. Just the sight of her lying there in her small dorm-issued bed made my heart race in my chest like I’d done twenty laps around the rink.
“Mase, earth to Mason brother.” I almost jumped out of my skin when Scottie leaned over and nudged my arm with his controller. “You’re not paying attention.”
“Ow, what the hell, bud?” I glared at him.
“You’ve been staring at your phone for the last seventy-two seconds. Who is it—”
“No one.” I shoved my cell in my pocket and grabbed my controller. “Are we doing this, or what?”
“I was doing it,” he huffed. “You were the one not paying any attention.”
“Team stuff,” I lied. Because apparently, that’s who the fuck I was now. Lying to my brother. Lying to Harper.
Lying to myself.
“Prepare to lick ice.” He smirked as the puck dropped, and he gained possession, deke-ing around two of my D-men.
“Lick ice is not a—” I didn’t bother finishing my sentence because it would only go in one ear and out the other. “Not so fast, buddy.” My goalie saved the shot with his glove and quickly dropped the puck, swiping it to one of his teammates.
“Big hairy balls,” Scottie muttered, trying to get ahead of his players. But it was useless. My center was already in the attacking zone, ready to make the shot.
“And that”—I hit the button, a smug expression coming over me as I watched the puck sail past my brother’s goalie—“is how you do it.”
