Chapter 24

Iwatched Mason's long fingers lazily grip his fork as he cut into his stack of pancakes.

The same fingers that pleased me in my dream.

My cheeks flushed, and I quickly averted my gaze.

No matter how much I tried to forget it, my dream played out like a film reel on a loop in my mind. The mere thought of Mason's touch set my nerves on fire and left me squirming in my seat.

I couldn't get over the way he made me feel.

I mean, I knew it was just a dream, but still. It was intense. And it was etched into my mind, every detail crystal clear.

"Can I help you clean before I head home?" I asked, standing to remove the dishes from the table.

His left eyebrow rose but quickly dropped. "Nah, I got it."

"Thank you so much for breakfast," I said as I searched for my shoes. "And thank you for hanging out with me."

"You don't have to thank me for hanging out with you," he laughed as he stood.

He dropped to his knees in front of the couch and pulled my shoes out from under it.

"Thank you," I said when he handed me my shoes, "for everything."

"Can I walk you home?" Mason asked.

"Oh, it's right around the corner!" I waved him off. "And it's broad daylight. I'll be fine."

"Okay," he said.

I liked that he didn't push. He respected me enough to trust my decision.

"Let me know when you want to go strawberry picking," he continued. "I'll be around this afternoon."

"I will!" I said as I darted out the front door, giving him a quick wave over my shoulder.

As soon as I entered my apartment, I sank to my hardwood floor.

"What is going on with me," I whispered, finally pulling myself up from the floor.

I headed for the shower, eager to wash away the impure thoughts swirling in my mind. I should have known better, though. My overthinking tended to be amplified while in the shower.

∞∞∞

Despite having prior lunch plans with Danielle, she convinced me to abandon her and join Mason at the nearby strawberry fields instead.

Frolicking through vast fields of ripe, juicy strawberries sounded like the perfect spring afternoon. I was confident Charleston's idyllic springtime weather would make the experience even more delightful.

As gorgeous as Charleston's spring blooms were, pollen season had arrived with a vengeance. The powdery, yellow substance coated every corner of town. As long as I remembered to take allergy medicine, I could still enjoy the season's beauty without succumbing to its effects.

Me:We can pick strawberries whenever is good for you!

Skater Boy:I'll pick you up at 1?

Me:Sounds perfect!

Me:I'm so excited!

Skater Boy:See ya then.

∞∞∞

"Hi!" I squealed as I hurried into the passenger seat of Mason's Jeep at one o'clock on the dot.

"A dress?" Mason's eyebrows scrunched together in confusion.

I debated wearing denim shorts and a tank top, but a sundress was light and airy. It was the perfect attire for strawberry picking in the sun.

"Is that a problem?" I asked.

The old me would have offered to run upstairs and change. But if someone judged me by my attire, they weren't meant to be my friend.

Mason's piercing eyes flicked up and down once more before he answered me.

"Not in the slightest," he said with his eyes back on the road.

As we drove over the cable-stayed bridge that connected downtown Charleston to the town of Mount Pleasant, I stared out my window. Brett always had a problem with what I wore. He always thought I was trying to seek attention by how I dressed. Every fear Brett instilled in me resurfaced when Mason commented on my dress.

I guess that's how wounds work, though, right?

Brett had created a wound that still ached even as I worked to heal it. Each time I thought it was starting to close, something would cause it to split open again, like a scab being picked at. The pain would return, reminding me of the hurt that was still there beneath the surface. It was a constant battle between my efforts to mend myself and the reminders of the damage that had been done.

"What are you thinking about over there?" Mason's deep voice broke through my thoughts.

"Oh, nothing," I lied.

"I don't believe that for one second," he said.

Reluctantly, I dragged my eyes away from the picturesque view outside the window and turned to face Mason. His dark curls fell messily over the smooth, tan skin of his forehead.

"Are you sure it's not a problem that I'm wearing a dress?" I asked. "I don't want to embarrass you."

He whipped his head in my direction, his expression unreadable. "Are you serious?"

"The way you looked at me—" I began.

"Kenna," Mason interrupted me. "I don't think any man on Earth would have a single complaint about going strawberry picking with you in that dress."

"But—"

"No buts," he interrupted me again. "I'm sorry if my questioning your attire made you overthink. I just wanted to make sure you would be comfortable. I don't know how dresses work. I can promise you that how I looked at you had nothing to do with disliking your dress. Quite the opposite, actually."

I blushed at his admission.

"Okay," I said.

He offered me a rare, genuine smile, and every pessimistic thought I had dissipated like smoke in the wind.

"Do we have baskets, or do we get them there?" I asked.

"I have a couple of baskets for us," he said. "I do this as often as possible during the season."

"How long is the strawberry season?" I asked.

"It's usually only a few weeks the fields are open," he explained.

As we turned onto a winding dirt road, the towering trees seemed to reach down and embrace us. The thick foliage created a canopy above, shielding us from the direct sunlight. The dirt road eventually opened into a small clearing, revealing endless rows of vibrant strawberry fields.

My sandals sank into the soft earth beneath me when I hopped out of Mason's Jeep.

Mason was in his usual black get-up. However, he opted for black shorts instead of his trusty Levi jeans. His tanned and muscular calves were exposed for the first time in our friendship, and I wasn't mad about it.

I strolled down the first row of strawberries, admiring the cute plants that sat in a perfect line. They had vibrant green leaves and little white flowers with bright yellow centers.

"The flowers match your yellow dress perfectly," Mason told me when he caught me admiring them. "If only you had picked those yellow sunglasses at that boutique."

He remembered the yellow sunglasses I had tried on.

The air was thick with the sweet scent of ripening berries, a fragrance that seemed to float through the warm spring breeze.

"What kind of strawberry is your favorite?" I asked. "Do you like the long ones? Or the cute little round ones? Or do you prefer the cone shapes? Are darker or lighter strawberries better?"

He laughed, "So many questions. Just pick the ones you'd want to pop in your mouth right now."

For some reason, his comment made me blush.

"Okay, I'll just wing it then," I shrugged.

Winging it wasn't really my thing. I liked to be informed. I liked to make the right choices.

Mason leaned a little closer to me, his lips almost touching the top of my head as he whispered, "Trust yourself a little, Kenna."

He was right. I needed to have a little faith in myself.

So, in honor of trusting myself, I selected an imperfect, misshapen strawberry that would likely be overlooked. Aside from its odd shape, it looked ripe and juicy.

I dropped the imperfect berry into my basket with a smile. It might not have been flawless, but I had a feeling it would be the most delicious.