Author: Cheryl McIntyre

Me: WHAT’S HE WANT TO KNOW?

Guy: ASL. JK. UR RELATIONSHIP STATUS, AMONGST OTHER THINGS.

Me: WHAT DID U SAY?

Guy: THAT U SUFFER FROM PHILIPHOBIA.

I roll my eyes. I am not afraid of love. Mostly. Me: U SUCK.

Guy: JK. I TOLD HIM 2 ASK U.

Me: WHY???

Guy: GTG. TTYL.

Of course. I knew Guy was up to something yesterday. I knew it! What’s really weird is I’m still not freaking out. Something about Mason feels right. I like him. A lot. I’ve never met anyone like him. The only person I’ve ever felt this comfortable with is Guy.

I feel jittery like I drank one too many cups of coffee. I have too much time on my hands. So I do something very out of character for me. I clean my room. I mean I really clean my room. In the closet and under the bed. It’s one of those cleanings where I find all sorts of cool things I forgot I had, which consists of two notebooks full of partial lyrics and old poems. I could probably put several new songs together with these. Also I found a tin of those tiny little squishy animals I used to collect from the quarter machines. I totally forgot I had them. Taking them out one at a time, I try to remember their names as I inspect each one.

I find about twenty jelly bracelets and slide them on my wrist. When I come across a plastic cup with who knows what growing at the bottom of it, I decide I’m done. After tossing the cup in the trash, I wash the dust off my fingers and glance at the clock. My stomach lodges itself in my throat. Guy should be home in a few minutes, hopefully accompanied by Mason.

I’m just heading down to the living room when I hear the front door open. My feet hesitate for a moment.

“…so I explained that just because she’s a bitch, that doesn’t mean she has to go around flaunting it,” Guy is saying. The door closes with a click.

“What did she say?” Mason laughs.

I let out the breath I was holding and continue down the stairs.

“She told me to fuck off, which I believe validated my point.”

I hop off the bottom step. “Fighting with Annie again?”

Guy sighs dramatically. “She started it.”

“She usually does, but you need to be nice to her right now,” I say and glance at Mason. He’s wearing a tee shirt that hugs his torso in a truly amazing way and is a shade darker than his eyes. Guy is so right. Yum.

“Yeah, I know.” Guy claps his hands together and looks between me and Mason. “So, what are we doing today?”

I look at Kellin and smile. “Hey, Little Man. You wanna wait outside for Misty and Dylan with me?”

Kellin shoots a quick look at Mason. “Come on, Kel. Let’s go wait on your girl,” he says grinning.

Kellin glares at him, but follows me out the door. I sit down on the porch and Mason sits on the steps in front of me, leaning back on his elbows. He tilts his head and grins at me. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

He pulls a box of Nerds from his pocket and places it in my hand. “For you.”

Guy throws himself down beside me, bumping me with his shoulder. “Is that the equivalent of bringing you flowers, Hope?”

I rip the box open and shake some of the grape candy into my hand, ignoring Guy. “Thanks Mason.” I use the tip of my tongue to grab the small pieces.

Clearing his throat, twice, Mason says, “You’re welcome.”

The bus pulls up in front of the house and Kellin jumps off the porch. Guy leans into me. “I can’t tell if you’re clueless or an evil genius,” he whispers conspiratorially.

“What color is my tongue?” I ask and stick it out at him.

“It’s purple, bitch.” He laughs and shakes his head. “I’m going with evil genius.”

“Who’s an evil genius?” Mason asks.

Guy raises his eyebrows and smirks at me. “Hope.”

“Oh, really? Why’s that?” Mason inquires. He’s got that grin plastered on his face that shows off the dimple. Cheese and rice, he’s cute.

“I think she’s some form of succubus.”

“My virginity’s still intact, Guy,” I say as I stand up and brush the dirt from my butt. “Yours, on the other hand, has been gone for so long I think I’ve seen it on the side of a milk carton.” I wink at him and head to the door. “Besides, if anybody has the power to steal a man’s virtue, it is definitely you.”

“You may have a point there,” he yells over his shoulder.

Dylan runs past me, dropping his book bag and going to the kitchen. “How was school?” I ask him.

He shrugs. “Fine.”

I try again. “What’d you do today?”

Another shrug. “I don’t remember.”

Okay. “Well, what’d you learn?”

“I don’t know. Stuff.”

Yeah, I’m done. That’s my quota of caring for the day. “You want a snack?”

“Yes. I’m starving. I was at the end of the line at lunch because I took too long on my science test, so I didn’t get to eat all my food. And it was pizza day.”

I pour him a glass of milk and set out the package of Oreos. Pulling one apart, I lick the cream from the middle and throw the cookie parts in the trash. Misty and Kellin join Dylan at the table and I pour them milk as well.

“Do your homework while you eat,” I remind them and am surprised when Kellin pulls a book from his bag and gets busy with the other kids.

Guy and Mason come in next and both steal an Oreo. I watch Mason pull his cookie apart and scrape off the icing center. He flicks it into the trash can before popping the dry cookie in his mouth.

My mouth nearly falls open. Dear Buddha. It’s as if we were made for each other. Mason Patel is my counterpart. He is the eraser to my chalk. The milk to my cereal. The chocolate to my peanut butter. We were made for each other in cookie heaven. Guy chokes on his bite as he witnesses Mason’s cookie habits and my embarrassingly obvious reaction. I hit him on the back, possibly with too much force.

When he can breathe again, Guy stares at Mason intensely. “This is very interesting,” he says.

Mason’s eyebrows lift in question. “What?”

Guy picks up another cookie and begins pacing back and forth like he’s a lawyer addressing a jury. “Did you know that Hope here only likes the creamy center of the Oreo?” Before Mason can respond, Guy continues. “And I was just saying that I think it’s interesting you appear to only like the crunchy outside.” He’s waving around the Oreo in his hand like it’s a piece of evidence. Mason’s eyes dart to me for a moment before returning to Guy. “It’s almost as if…you complement one another. Or balance, if you will.” He runs his finger over his lip and I swear I think I’m dying of humiliation. Can he please stop speaking my thoughts aloud?

“No, no. I’ve given this some thought,” Guy goes on, now holding up his finger. “It’s more than cookies. I mean, Hope is moody and, I’m sorry,” he says glancing at me. “But let’s just put it out there. Bitchy. And you, Mason, you’re all sunshiny and…nice.” He takes a seat and eats the stupid cookie looking all too proud of himself.

I can’t even look at Mason right now. I cannot believe Guy is doing this to me. I’ll show him bitchy.

“You have a lot of similarities, though, too, I noticed,” Guy goes on. Oh, I wish he would shut his evil, evil mouth. “Like the whole music thing you were talking about earlier.” He gestures at Mason and I finally look at him.

“What music thing?” I realize Mason is smiling. Why is he smiling?

“Your iPod is nearly identical to mine. I think you have more songs on yours, but the wide range in artists is pretty much the same.”

They’re ganging up on me.

He pulls a dark blue iPod out of his back pocket and hands it to me. What, now he has evidence too? I scroll through his artists and he isn’t lying. His music tastes are as unusual as mine. From rock to rap to folk to heavy metal to pop. I know I’m grinning as my thumb trails down the screen. This is scary. Awesomely scary.

I look up at him. “What are your feelings about Ramen noodles?”

“Hate them.”

So do I. When I lived with my mom, I ate them nearly every meal because they were pretty much the only things she could afford.

“Super Mario Brothers or Crazy Taxi?”

Mason turns a chair around and straddles it. “Both.”

Damn. Me too. Okay. Now I’m starting to freak out.

Chapter 7

Mason

I like this game. Hope isn’t giving her opinion, but I can tell by the expression on her face I’m giving the right answers. I’m not sure if she’s trying to see how opposite we are or how similar. If I had to guess, I’d say the latter.

Everyone is watching us go back and forth. She doesn’t seem to care. Neither do I.

“Oh, I got one,” Kellin says. “It’s not a question, just something else that’s the same.” I nod my head at him and wait. “You both beat that mean guy up.”

“Yes!” Guy exclaims. “You’re both bad asses.”

I laugh and gaze at Hope. “My turn,” I say. “Pizza?”

She shakes her head. “That’s too easy. Everybody likes pizza.”

“Toppings,” I clarify.

“Saliva,” Misty grunts disgustedly and Hope and Guy laugh.

“Hope likes to spit on pizza,” Guy explains. I turn to her for verification.

“It’s not that I like to do it.” She makes a face that has me grinning at her. “It’s a necessity of living in a house of ten people.”

Guy nods in agreement. “It doesn’t stop me, but no one else touches her pizza.” Hell, it wouldn’t stop me either.

Misty grunts. “Nobody touches it because she orders it with pineapple instead of pepperoni.”

“I just pick it off,” Guy says, shrugging.

“I’m scared,” Kellin says with big eyes.

I know what he means. I’m a little anxious myself, but I pretend like my heart isn’t racing. “What? It’s good,” I say defensively.

“Nu-huh,” Guy explodes. “You do not eat pineapple on your pizza!”

“Yes he does!” Kellin says excitedly.

Hope drags a chair away from the table and sinks into it. She has this look on her face that I can’t read. And I really wish I could. Is she freaking out inside like I am? Does she want to go somewhere and talk to me alone like I’m dying to do with her?

I clear my throat. “Books or Movies?”

“Movies.”

I actually like both pretty evenly, but she didn’t shed light on anything, so I choose not to either. “Okay. Horror or romance?”

Hope snorts, which may not be flattering on most girls, but it’s cute when she does it. “Horror.”

The front door opens and we all look up. Park comes in, striding directly toward Hope and my good mood is gone. And not just gone, but knocked down and stomped into pieces. I sit up and take the last Oreo. I pull it apart and hand Hope the side with cream. “I got one more,” I say. And I know I might be pushing it, but jealousy doesn’t sit well with me.

Park puts his arm around Hope’s shoulders, hugging her to his waist. Everyone is looking at me. Guy’s mildly amused expression took off with my mood. He now appears to be bordering somewhere along the lines of worried and guilty.

“How do you feel about committed relationships?” I lock my eyes on Hope’s, daring her to answer me honestly.

And like she’s done several times before, Hope surprises me.

“I lived with a mother who couldn’t make an obligation to her own child, let alone to a boyfriend. I had a hard enough time deciding what candy to choose at the store yesterday. I can’t even commit to a hair color. I suck at relationships and I don’t do commitments.”