Mason’s hand is still on mine, and my brain is tangled from the many emotions being mixed like a blender inside my chest. Whatever the cause, I nod yes slowly, and slide my hand from his.
“So, yeah? After the show tonight—we’ll hang out? Just for one drink?” Mason’s walking backward, and he’s looking at me like he used to in my dreams. This entire week has been surreal, and I’m capping it off with a far-fetched fantasy. My smile is cautious, but it’s genuine. I’ve taken a leap—and there’s the possibility that I’ll go home to Claire tonight, and cry for an hour. Or, maybe I won’t cry. Maybe I won’t cry at all, but rather...
And I hate that feeling almost more than any other—I recognize it, it’s hope. Goddamned Mason Street has given me hope. He better not crush it.
Mason
I’m not that drunk. I’m pretty sure Avery thinks I’m as blitzed as Ben or the other guys. But I’m not even close. I had three or four beers, which for me is nothing. I’m in full control of this. I’ve watched that girl avoid me all night—and I know she was avoiding me. My mom’s not very good at secrets, and she asked me outright why Avery was so bent on her handling us boys tonight. I told her that Avery didn’t get along with Ben, but I know it’s also because she doesn’t want to be around me. Not after I watched her cry, and almost kissed away her tears.
The lights are coming on, and the jukebox music is the only thing left in the bar. Josh and Matt are nearly passed out at the table. I’m going to have to call them a cab to take them back to their apartment. Ben’s handling his liquor pretty well, but he’s busy flirting with the last girl who performed. I told him she didn’t look like his kind of girl—she was pretty innocent looking, more of a girlfriend kind of girl—but he didn’t care. He never does.
I was glad to see the boys. It’s been a couple of weeks since we all split, trying to make sense of the label dumping us. Matt and Josh drove around the country for a few days—they’re both originally from Indiana, so they spent some time with their families. Ben had planned on coming home with me, but he got hooked up with some girl in Texas and well….
I can see Avery moving back and forth, from the kitchen to the bar, and back again. She’s busying herself, helping out others on purpose, just to avoid spending time with me. I catch Cole’s attention while she’s in the kitchen.
“Hey, man,” I say, nodding toward the door. “She’s avoiding me. I just wanna talk. Help a brother out?”
Cole smiles big, and just gives me a nod, letting me know he gets what I’m asking. Cole’s a good-looking dude, and I feel okay admitting that. I wondered at first if he and Avery ever had a thing, but it’s clear they haven’t. And I don’t get the sense that there’s really any interest either way. When Avery comes back out, Cole stops her before she starts loading up more dishes for the back.
“Ave, if you do all my work, then I won’t have a job. So…how about you let me finish this up?” he asks. She turns to look at me immediately, and then back at Cole, biting on the inside of her cheek. She knows I put him up to this, she’s just deciding whether or not she wants to play along.
“All right, you sure?” she says, drying her hands on the bar towel.
“I’m sure, Ave. I’m sure,” Cole says, almost like he’s giving her permission. I see her shoulders rise and fall with her deep breath, and when she turns to me, she looks like she’s in line for the world’s scariest roller coaster.
“One drink. That’s it,” I say, walking closer to her and crossing my heart with my right hand.
“Fine, but I get to pick the drink,” she says, moving away from me and behind the bar. When she comes back with two Cokes, I just about lose it.
“Ha! Seriously, this is your idea of a big night out. Damn, girl…I’ve gotta teach you a few things,” I say, lifting the straw and inspecting it. “Is that…a bendy straw?”
“It sure is,” she says, bending hers and taking a big sip. Shit, her drink is already a third of the way gone.
“Alrighty then. Well…how about we shoot some darts,” I ask, trying to come up with anything that will slow her ass down.
“Sure. Whatever,” she says, brushing me with her shoulder when she passes. She’s trying so hard to keep this front up. It’s really cute, but it’s frustrating as hell.
I follow her to the billiards room and open up one of the cabinets, pulling out the metal darts. Ray never went electronic with anything. He always said it ruined the authenticity, and I tend to agree. These darts are the same ones I learned to throw when I was nine years old. They’re still crazy sharp, though. I take a small sip of my Coke and laugh under my breath. I should have known Avery would have found a way around this—a loophole!