Chapter 13

Isank into the plush cushions of my couch, reaching for the remote on the coffee table. I had only spent a few hours with Brett and Angelica, but I officially called it a day after departing from the showing. I didn't have any other showings scheduled, so why not? That was the beauty of being your own boss. Of course, it also had its downfalls.

My phone vibrated on my coffee table, and I almost ignored it. I knew better, though. I couldn't neglect other clients just because I had a bad day. Bad days happened, and I knew the feeling was temporary.

To my surprise, the text message was from none other than ‘Skater Boy.'

I patted myself on the back for not changing Mason's contact name. Seeing ‘Skater Boy' pop up on my screen gave me a much-needed smile.

Skater Boy:Need any Taco Bell?

Me:No?

Skater Boy:Ok, just thought I'd check.

His message came out of left field. Why would I need Taco Bell? I mean, sure, I liked the occasional Cheesy Gordita Crunch, but I wasn't some Taco Bell junkie.

Kind of.

But I did need to get my mind off my shitty day.

Me:I could use some ice cream, though.

Skater Boy:Bad day?

Me:You could say that.

Skater Boy:Meet me downstairs in 15.

Me:Ok!

It was the most out-of-the-blue invitation I had ever received, but it couldn't have come at a better time. Ice cream sounded a thousand times better than sulking alone in my apartment.

I'd already gotten into his car once and was still alive to tell the tale. I figured there was little to no chance that he was luring me out of my building to murder me.

And I was willing to risk my life for some ice cream.

Apparently, food was the one thing that I was willing to risk my life for.

Go figure.

Fifteen minutes later, I descended the stairs to find Mason waiting outside. His outfit blended in with the night sky's background. Though his piercing, icy blue eyes shone in the darkness. They were a striking contrast to his otherwise shadowy appearance.

"Hey," I offered him a small wave.

"Hey. Want to walk to Jeni's Ice Cream?" he asked.

That's when I noticed he had his trusty skateboard with him.

I mean, of course, he did.

Was it a security blanket or something?

"Sure," I said as we started down the uneven sidewalk. "This is kind of weird."

"It's only weird if you make it weird," he replied.

"You seem like you're full of secrets," I told him.

"Is that why my hair is so big?" Mason swept his hand through his mop of dark, curly hair.

"Maybe," I giggled.

He tucked his skateboard under his arm, and his fingers curled around the bottom edge.

"What flavor are you going to get?" I asked.

"Coffee, if they have it," he said. "You?"

"Is coffee really a flavor? Does it have caffeine in it? How will you sleep tonight?" I asked, the words jumbling together while my mouth moved a mile a minute.

"That was three questions in one," he raised a single eyebrow. "It is really a flavor. It just so happens to be my favorite. There's barely any caffeine in it. I'll still sleep tonight just fine, don't you worry. Did I cover everything?"

For a moment, I froze.

Brett hated my ‘yapping'—as he called it. My constant questions and chatter annoyed him to no end.

Mason's intense gaze shifted down to me. His eyes were filled with curiosity, and his expression showed no trace of frustration.

I giggled, "Yes, that covered everything."

In fact, his answer was thorough.

"If you've never had coffee ice cream before," he said, "you should try some of mine. That is, if they even have it."

As we pushed open the door to the ice cream shop, a small bell chimed above us. We were opposite each other in every way, so I could only assume that we were quite the sight as we entered. Mason wore a primarily black ensemble, which gave off an air of mystery and coolness. Meanwhile, I stood out like a bright pink beacon in my matching sweatshirt and shorts.

"We close in ten!" The lone girl behind the counter informed us with an eye roll.

"We'll be quick!" I promised, but it didn't seem to calm the teenager's attitude.

"What'll you have?" she demanded.

I watched as Mason's eyes scanned the labels on the large tubs of ice cream behind the frosty glass window, searching for his favorite flavor.

"I'll have that one," he said, pointing to the light brown ice cream. "Coffee."

"Cup or cone?" The employee's lime green braces gleamed in the light when she opened her mouth.

"Cone."

She scooped the ice cream and messily slapped it onto a waffle cone. "Here," she said, shoving the cone towards Mason.

"Thanks," he muttered before taking a step back.

"Yay! My turn!" I said, but the girl's frown didn't budge. "Okay, I'll have cookies and creme. In a cup."

I watched as she scooped my ice cream into their largest cup.

"Oh," I whispered, "a small would have been fine."

The employee stared at me blankly. "Well, looks like you're getting a large today," she said.

"Oh, okay. That's fine," I smiled at her.

"That will be fifteen dollars and ninety-two cents," she told Mason without even looking my way.

"Oh, we're paying separately," I explained.

"Seriously?" she asked.

"I got it," Mason said, handing the employee a twenty-dollar bill.

"Mason—" I started.

"No worries," was all he said before he put the change from the twenty in the tip jar and headed out the front door.

"You tipped her?" I asked once we were outside.

He casually leaned against the brick wall. "Maybe she was having a bad day."

I couldn't look away as he brought the frosty, velvety treat to his lips. He delicately licked it with slow and precise strokes. The creamy texture coated his tongue, and I could practically taste the sweetness.

"Why are you getting ice cream with me?" I asked him.

"Why not?" he asked.

"We don't have much in common."

He glanced at me with one eyebrow raised, "You seem cool."

"Fair enough," I giggled. "I am pretty cool."

He shrugged and returned his focus to the coffee ice cream he was devouring.

"Shit, did you want to try some?" He tilted the cone in my direction, but there was barely any ice cream left.

"At this point, I think I'd be getting more saliva than ice cream," I told him.

"At least it's coffee-flavored saliva," he said.

I reached over, my hand brushing against Mason's, and grabbed the cone. My eyes remained fixed on him as I took a massive lick of the ice cream.

"Oh my goodness," my eyes widened, "that is so freaking good!"

"Told ya," he said before returning the cone to his lips.

"Do you want a bite of mine?" I asked. "Or twelve? I can't believe she gave me this massive thing."

He nodded and took the cup and spoon from me before asking, "Are you going to tell me why you needed ice cream?"

"What if I'm on my period and have a random craving?" I asked.

Mason's eyes, filled with skepticism, bore into me. It was clear he saw through my flimsy excuse. "Try again," was all he said.

"I am a real estate agent, and today, I had to show my ex-boyfriend and his shiny new fiancée their potential new home."

"Fuck," he said. "I wasn't expecting that. I thought you lost a diamond earring or something."

I laughed at his ridiculousness. "You think I'm that materialistic?"

"I don't know you," he said, "but from what I've gathered, yes."

"I've already had a rough day. Don't make it worse," I groaned.

"Like I said, I don't know you. I'm not judging you. You're free to enjoy whatever makes you happy. An observation from a practical stranger shouldn't weigh on you in the slightest."

"But what if it does?" I asked. "Everyone's opinions weigh on me."

"Then you need to learn how to live for yourself and not give a rat's ass what others think."

"Trust me, I've tried," I told him.

"Try harder."

Mason and I wandered back towards my apartment without urgency as I gave him the rundown of the day's events. It was nice to talk to someone who didn't know Brett.

"He sounds like a douche," he said. "Seriously, fuck that guy."

It turned out that he formed the same opinion that everyone who knew Brett already held. Brett wasn't a good guy, and he had zero redeeming qualities.

"Yes, fuck that guy," I repeated.

"You dodged a bullet," he said. "What if you had ended up as his future bride instead of that Angelica chick?"

"I keep thinking about that! The thought alone is frightening," I admitted. "Horror movie status."

"No shit," he said. "Did you love him?"

"I think I did," I sighed, "when I was young and dumb. I loved our relationship. I don't know if I loved him, though. I don't think I was mature enough to understand what the word love really meant."

"So, what does it mean to you now?" he asked.

I turned to him, confused. "What does what mean?"

"Love," he said. "What does it mean to you?"

I paused, allowing myself more than a mere moment to contemplate Mason's question.

"Love should feel like sinking into a steaming hot bath at the end of a long day," I told him. "It should be comforting, safe, and warm. Love means being someone's happy place."

Mason nodded, his curls falling into his face.

"What does it mean to you?" I asked.

"Love means being brave enough to show someone the parts of yourself that you aren't proud of. You know, the messy pieces that you'd rather hide." He looked off into the distance as he spoke. "It's trusting that they will cherish you despite it all."

Had he already experienced that, or was it something he longed for? My curiosity always got the best of me, but I knew better than to ask Mason intimate questions about his past. We were just starting to become friends.

"Well, this has been fun," I said once we were back in front of the familiar hair salon below my apartment.

Mason cocked his head, and half a grin appeared on his face. "It has been."

"Are you going to skate home now or wreak havoc with your buddies?" I asked.

"I'm meeting up with them in twenty," he explained.

"Do you want to come up until then?" I asked.

"I need to get warmed up," he said, "so I better head there."

"Cool. Well, have fun!"

"See ya," he said before he rolled off.