The Art of Taking Chances Page 13

  Mason realized I’d stopped and turned back to me. With a curious look, he stepped closer.

  “You’re right.” I closed my eyes. “I shouldn’t have said anything to Mr. Anders, but I was so upset by what you said the night before.”

  Mason didn’t reply, and I opened my eyes to see him standing less than a foot from me, his brows furrowed. “What do you mean, what I said?”

  I shook my head and looked down at my feet. “Please don’t make me say it, Mason. It was bad enough reading it.”

  Suddenly, his hand came under my chin, tipping my face up to look at him. His eyes were full of confusion as he searched my expression. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  My vision became blurry with the tears forming in my eyes. Not necessarily from sadness, but a mixture of frustration and longing for what used to be.

  I refused to let them fall and blinked quickly a few times before lifting my gaze to meet his. “I’m talking about when I put my freaking heart on the line. I’m talking about when I asked if you ever considered being more than friends, and you called me pathetic.”

  He stepped back, his brows scrunched together. Running one hand through his hair, he paced back and forth a few times. I watched him silently, wondering what was going through his mind.

  When he didn’t talk, I called his name.

  “These last couple of months I’ve been trying to figure out what happened. How it all started. I kept going back to the English paper.” He stopped and looked at me. “You thought I rejected you?”

  I nodded my head. “Because you did.”

  “That’s the thing though. I didn’t. I wouldn’t. I had just been telling Melissa…” His words trailed off as his eyes widened. “I’m such an idiot. I told her about my feelings for you right before our fight.”

  I bit my bottom lip. I so badly wanted to believe the tale he was weaving. If he’d been talking about wanting to be with me, why did he say those awful things?

  Probably for the same reason I said some of the things I had. We were hurt. We were embarrassed.

  “Jessi.” He walked toward me and took my hands in his.

  I was self-conscious about the way they shook but didn’t pull them away.

  “I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how we recover from this.”

  When I didn’t answer, he spoke again. “Can we recover from this?”

  I wanted to say yes. Every part of me wanted to say that one word.

  “I don’t know,” I answered.

  And then I walked away, leaving Mason alone at the park.

  Six

  I drove myself to school the next day, having ignored all of Mia’s texts the night before. I was being a crappy friend right now, and eventually, I’d have to address it. I just couldn’t think clearly after everything that had happened with Mason.

  The more I thought about it, the more I believed him.

  I read through that particular exchange with fresh eyes, and when I did, I could see how much those texts didn’t sound like Mason. How hadn’t I seen it then? Why didn’t I talk to him instead of letting things escalate the way they had?

  I couldn’t stop thinking about how things went wrong. But more than that, I couldn’t stop thinking about his question.

  Could we recover?

  I couldn’t decide if I was looking forward to or dreading the moment when I walked in and saw Mason in Chemistry. So, when I entered the science class and saw only Angel and Melissa, I felt more confused than ever.

  I glanced around the room. Melissa was watching me, her chin lifted, a smug smile on her face. When my eyes met Mia’s, she lifted her hands and mouthed, “What the heck?”

  “I’m sorry,” I lip-spoke back.

  “Later,” she replied, still silent, before turning back toward the front.

  “If you girls are done,” Mrs. Jacobs said, giving us a pointed look from the front of the room, “I’d like to get started with today’s assignment.”

  Giggles broke out around the class, but I ignored them and raised my hand.

  “Yes, Miss Jones?”

  “Mason isn’t here today.”

  “How astute of you to notice.”

  More laughter. Great, apparently my teacher thought herself quite the comedian.

  “Join Melissa and Angel’s group today,” she finally added before beginning her rounds around the class.

  The three of us worked in awkward silence. I thought about what Mason had said the night before. Had Melissa sabotaged our relationship?

  I didn't call her out and stayed focused on our assignment.

  At the end of class, Mia came directly to my desk. “I’ve been texting you like crazy, woman. What gives?”

  I loaded my backpack and flung it over one shoulder. “I'm sorry. It was a weird night.”

  We started walking toward the parking lot.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  “Mason happened.”

  Mia stopped. “Oh, no. Please tell me you two haven’t started fighting again. It felt so good to have the three of us sitting together at lunch yesterday.”

  I raised my brows.

  “What? I make no apologies. You know I think the two of you would be perfect for each other if you could pull your heads out of your—”

  “He said it wasn’t him,” I interrupted.

  “What wasn’t him?” she asked slowly.

  “The text. Mason said he didn’t send it. He said he thought it was Melissa. I think I believe him.”

  “Jessi, this is huge.” Her voice was full of enthusiasm I didn’t feel. “Do you know what this means?”

  “Yeah. It means we hurt each other a lot, for a misunderstanding.”

  “Does he like you?”

  “What?”

  This time her voice was loud as she annunciated each syllable. “Does. He. Like. You?”

  I nodded my head. “I think so.”

  “Then go figure it out.”

  “I wouldn’t know where to begin,” I answered honestly.

  A huge smile played across my best friend’s face. She lifted one of her hands and pointed. I hadn’t been paying attention, but when I followed the direction of her finger, I saw Mason standing next to my car, carrying a bouquet of red roses.

  I looked back at Mia, terrified. “What do I do?” I whispered.

  “I think you go say hi.” She reached out, grabbed one of my hands, and squeezed. “Good luck.”

  I walked toward Mason, my eyes not leaving his the entire time. Covering the distance between us felt like it took an eternity, though I knew it was only seconds.

  “Hi,” I said once I was close enough.

  “Hi,” he echoed with a smile. Mason held up the flowers. “Jessi, I know we hurt each other. We both said some things we wish we could take back, but doesn’t that happen in every relationship?”

  I shook my head. “Not like that.”

  He let out a sad laugh. “Maybe we’re overachievers, and we got it all out of the way. I mean, we’ve basically revealed every secret we know about each other. What more can we do?”

  “You could give me hope, only to break my heart again.”

  Mason set the flowers on the hood of my car. He reached out, put his arms around me, and pulled me close. Bringing his lips to my ear, he whispered, “I would never.”

  I lifted my face to see him. “You can’t say that.”

  “You’re right, but I can promise never to let it get out of hand like this. I won’t let it. I love you too much, Jessi Jones.”

  My breath caught. “What did you say?”

  Mason chuckled. “Don’t act like that surprises you.”

  But it did surprise me. We’d been fighting for months. How could you love someone you hated?

  Mia’s words about the thin line between love and hate came back to me. Maybe she was right. Maybe it was possible Mason and I were meant for each other—that we were two people in love who happened to get a little lost.

>   “I love you too, Mason.” The words felt strange on my tongue, but I knew they were true the moment I said them.

  “Then why are we just standing here?” Mason asked, leaning down so that our faces were close. Our noses were almost touching, and I felt his breath was against my lips. “I think this is the part where we kiss.”

  His lips met mine as we kissed for the first time. I poured every emotion I was feeling into that kiss, hoping Mason would know exactly what it meant to me. All the while, I could tell he was doing the same.

  The best part was, the emotions we were sharing felt a lot like love, and not at all like hate.

  Connect with Kayla

  Thank you for reading (Not So) Perfect Chemistry by Kayla Tirrell! To connect with Kayla and learn more about her books and special offers, visit tirrellblewrites.com.

  Spark

  Sally Henson

  One

  Regan

  Lane and I cross my lawn to the driveway. I shouldn’t bring this up again, but I can’t seem to help myself. “I’ve got a gut feeling this party’s a bad idea. Just because you’re a senior doesn’t mean you have to go.”

  He glances at me and chuckles. “Aw, give it a rest, Mom.”

  “Shut up.” I smack the bill of his EIU hat so it covers his eyes.

  “Hey,” his voice turns serious. “Don’t mess with my baby.”

  He veers toward the driver’s side door, taking off his cap and rolls the bill before slipping it back on, making sure it’s got the country-boy look to it.

  I snicker.

  “Sometimes things aren’t what you think, Regan. It’ll be fine.” He climbs into his side of the pickup.

  I get in my side and look over at him. Today’s the day he said goodbye to our podunk high school. “I'm so jealous of you right now.”

  He glances over at me with a smirk.

  I flinch my hand toward his hat. “I'm going to grab that cap off your head and stomp on it.”

  “You better not lay a finger on this hat. It's my prize possession.”

  He looks better without a cap on, but whatever. I roll my eyes and look out the passenger window. The soft light from the sun, well into its downward trajectory, casts long shadows to the east. Maybe tonight won’t be so bad.

  We drive over the small hill in the rock quarry and see the cars. The bonfire graduation party’s happening along the banks of the pond.

  Lane mumbles. “They’re jumping off the cliffs?”

  “That water’s too cold.” I shiver just thinking about it. “We should wait for it to warm up more before we go swimming again.”

  Lane snorts. “No kidding.”

  We turn down the gravel road opposite the cliffs, and Lane parks in the grass with the tailgate facing the water so we'll have a place to sit. He tosses his cap on the dash and combs his fingers through his hair.

  Lane didn't spend a lot of time hanging out with his classmates, so I'm surprised he wanted to come to this party tonight. It's been our gang—Lane, Tobi, Cameron, Haylee, and me—for two years now.

  Lane and me, well, we’ve been best friends since forever.

  Two

  Regan

  Crackling rock signals another vehicle arriving. It’s becoming a steady occurrence, and soon I’ll be even more overwhelmed with bodies. I grumble to myself. Where’s Tobi? Why haven’t Cam and Haylee shown up yet? Lane and I’ve been here for what seems like hours.

  When Lane had asked me earlier if I wanted to hang out with him and Nick by the water, I declined. Honestly, I thought I’d be fine coming here, but watching him laughing with them is making me wish I’d stayed home. But for now, my butt is glued to this tailgate, waiting for my other friends to show. I check over my shoulder to the gravel road that runs through the rock quarry for any sign of them.

  Smoke from the fire drifts my way, causing me to cough and wave it from my face. A puff of wind wisps it away, and I take a deep breath of fresh air, scanning the water’s edge for Lane. Daylight barely hangs on with a remnant of orange and red light from the setting sun behind Lane and the guys he’s talking to.

  Guilt seeps into my body. Lane’s my best friend, and being here tonight is part of my graduation present to him.

  Quit being such a jerk about this, Regan.

  My eyes flicker down to the shirt I’m wearing. Ugh. I either look like a disco peacock or a giant fishing lure. It’s too snug for my taste, but Lane said it was fine.

  I shake my head. Tobi thinks she’s my stylist. I wish she’d stick to styling herself.

  Heat from the growing fire warms my face. The burning embers and chunks of wood wrapped in ribbons of fire remind me of wiener-roasts with my family and Lane’s when we were kids and life was easy.

  My feet dangle from the tailgate, lifting my mood, sparking the carefree child in me. Soon the sunset will turn into twilight, and everyone will become a shadow that grows braver. A party like this is always full of people teetering on the edge—the edge of everything.

  A truck rips and roars down the gravel road, through the grassy field. I don't have to look to know who it is. Cameron. Finally. He stops along the shoreline and revs the engine. Lane’s group moves out of the way, closer to the fire.

  Giggles bubble up in my chest as I watch a few crazy people run through the cars, howling, and jump in the water. My tension is washing away now that my friends are here.

  Lane looks up from his conversation to Cam's truck, laughing at Cam’s audaciousness before latching on to my sight. We shake our heads in unison and share the moment. He makes a move toward me, but someone pulls him back.

  Through a gap between Nick and another guy’s shoulders, I see a trail of long blonde hair sway beside Lane. She seems a little too close to him, but I can’t tell who it is. Maybe I should go over there.

  I reach for a couple of water bottles from the cooler to take with me. When I look back up, Tobi plants her bum on the tailgate next to me. She checks out the shirt she assigned me for the night. “That shirt looks”—she touches her fingertips to her lips and kisses them—“on you.”

  “So you’re Italian now?” I roll my eyes and hand her a water bottle. “Did he drive like that all the way out here?”

  She twists the cap off the bottle. “No, actually. Only when we pulled in.”

  I snort. “That's a surprise. Where's Haylee?”

  “Cam's showing her how to operate the light bars or something.”

  “I'm glad you're—” A movement across the fire catches my eye, stealing my words.

  Tobi asks, “Why do you look like you just took a shot of vinegar?”

  Normally, a comment like that would make me laugh, but there’s nothing funny about this train wreck happening before my eyes. “Who is that?”

  Tobi takes a swig of water and stares in the same direction as me. “Who?”

  I can't tear my eyes away from what's going on. “The blonde who’s about to fall out of her bikini top, invading Lane's space.”

  “Oh! Wow. That is”—she pauses—“blatant. Uh, that looks like Brea Adams. Nick's sister. She's a couple years older than Lane, I think.”

  I growl in disgust. “It's gross.”

  Tobi laughs. “Agreed.” She leans into me. “You don’t need to do anything like that to get Lane’s attention.”

  My eyes are glued on Lane and Brea. “What?”

  Tobi giggles. “Oh, nothing.”

  A slow burn grows in my chest. Brea tickles Lane’s bicep with her talon fingernails, chatting up Lane, Nick, and some guy with a fancy haircut. I’ve never seen him before. The guy swivels to look at Tobi and me. His dark eyes match his hair. Nick whispers something in his ear as Brea leans to catch a glimpse of us. She flashes a devilish grin before focusing her attention back on Lane.

  His eyes are transfixed to the hot-pink camo bikini top.

  Three

  Lane

  “Hey, I’ve got to check on something.” I nod toward my truck where Regan and Tobi are sitting on the ta
ilgate. “I’ll catch you guys later.”

  Nick and his cousin Bobby glance over their shoulders and then to each other before huge grins break across their faces.

  Nick chuckles. “Yeah, I bet.”

  “Those girls are the prettiest things I’ve seen since I got to this lousy state,” Bobby drawls out in his annoying southern accent.

  “Huh,” Brea squeaks out, moving closer to me. If that’s even possible. “They’re not that pretty.”

  Bobby bows to Brea, placing his hand over his heart. “Except for you, cousin.”

  Brea giggles. She’s so fake, and I’m trying real hard to be a gentleman. I take a step toward my truck, and Brea hooks her arm around mine. Her fingernails trace down my arm.

  I open my mouth to ask her to stop, but it feels so good. I tell her I like her nails. I’m such an idiot.

  “Lane, man,” Nick’s voice grabs my attention. “You know you’re gonna have to give them up when you leave.”

  Bobby leans back. “You’re seeing both of them? And they don’t have a problem with that?”

  Brea huffs, but everyone ignores her.

  I snort. “We’re just really good friends, Nick. You’ve been hounding me about it for years.”

  “What am I supposed to think? You tell everyone they’re off limits, you hang out with them all the time, and Regan never acts interested in anyone but you.”

  I shrug and look to the fire.

  Bobby lowers his chin, cocking his head to the side. “Seriously? You’re not dating either of them?”

  Nick and Bobby look back over their shoulders again at the girls. Nick whispers something, triggering a smirk from his cousin.

  “You won’t mind if I go talk to your friends, then?” Bobby asks.

  Brea nods eagerly. “Oh, you should, Bobby. You, too, Nick.”

  If Tobi didn’t have a boyfriend, I’d probably tell them no way. Regan doesn’t go out, so I’m absolutely positive these guys will strike out.