"No, I didn't…" I began and then stopped. It wasn't like I hadn't spent the night with him before, but this was different. Way different in fact because now he had seen me in a way no one else had, not Moira, not even Kayden. And rather than dumping me in a ward or calling Kayden to babysit me, he had taken the time to take care of me. I was indebted to him, which was big enough on its own, and still surprising, but...to go with him, to his bed, in his private room, that was probably even more personal than the one he had in Portland near his club...that was something else entirely.
He held his hand out, with that same smile that was beginning to feel a little dangerous. At this point, it was just the cherry on top of everything he’d already done for me. It was gentle, accepting, and just shy enough that to deny him would make me feel like an absolute asshole. The only thing left was to reach out and take his hand, letting him help me up off the couchsince I wasn't going to be able to push myself up with my injured hand.
"I was thinking," I began as he led me into the bedroom. It was too dark for me to make much out, but I could see there were more framed pictures or paintings on the walls, and the rug at the foot of the bed was soft.
"Now there's dangerous words if I ever heard any," he said, pulling back the covers and nodding toward the bed.
"The last one was funny, don't push your luck," I muttered, awkwardly climbing into his bed and stopping when I realized it smelled of him. He had clearly spent plenty of time in bed lately, and I wondered if he was prone to lying in bed reading, or if he was just lazy about doing his laundry. "I was thinking...since I'm probably going to have a lot more time on my hands, that...I might see that club of yours."
He looked at me, his brow twitching upward. “Really?"
"What?"
"Well, clubs don't exactly seem like your sort of place."
"I've gone to clubs."
"Yeah, but you strike me as the type to find some rundown bar with bad lighting, country music playing out of shitty speakers, and dropping yourself in a corner while you brood."
"Never mind."
He laughed, tapping his phone, and the lights in the living room went out, casting us in darkness save for the light of his phone, which he plugged in and set on the bedside table. I felt him rustling around before the sheets and comforter were pulled over us. His hands found me, this time settling gently on my chest, and he surprised me with a quick kiss to my cheek.
"Go to sleep, we can go in a couple of days if you want. Works for me, I need to see the place with my own eyes. I trust my people, but that doesn't mean they're not occasionallydramatic," he said, his chuckle gusting warm air onto my neck. "Now get some rest."
"Sure," I said, suddenly unsure of the fluttering feeling in my gut, his hand staying on my chest as he settled down. I wondered if it would be like the last time I'd slept with him, though that time there had been a distance between us, as if there was an invisible wall between our bodies as he quickly drifted off to sleep. I wasn't all that surprised when I heard his breathing deepen, the breaths coming in and out at an even pace as he clearly drifted off to sleep with little problem.
Apparently, his carefree attitude allowed him to ignore the nagging little demons that plagued a lot of people as they lay down to sleep for the night...asshole.
Yet even with that flash of annoyance, I was distracted by the twitch of his fingers against my chest, and the irritation disappeared. It wasn't enough to silence the voices in my head, voices that sounded like the man's grunts and groans after I'd left him bloody on the floor, the shriek of the woman as I struck her, the shouts of my friend trying to bring me back from the brink, and as always, the low, hateful growl of my father who was always there with me if I was willing to listen.
But...it helped, and now I just had to figure out what to do with that.
MASON
"So, you're sure about this?" I asked one more time, looking him over. He had chosen to drive all the way up to Portland rather than have me give him a ride, and I wasn't sure how to process that. On the one hand, he was probably trying to make sure he had a safe way out of the city if he wanted to flee back down to Cresson Point. On the other hand... Actually, I couldn't think of another reason unless he was just being awkward at the idea of being stuck in a vehicle with me. All the same, he had come and was now standing outside my apartment building, and I had to wonder if I should invite him up or if we should just head out.
"Ask me again," he said, his eyes rolling but his tone a warning. It was accompanied by him crossing his arms and glaring at me once he was done rolling his eyes.
I looked him over again. “Are you sure?"
"That's it," he said, turning to head back down the sidewalk where he'd parked at the nearby parking garage.
It was funny to think about how irritated I would have been only a couple of months ago because I was trying to be courteous, but he was being a stubborn jackass about the entire thing. Now, though, there was something almost charming about it, and I let out a little laugh, reaching to take him by theforearm and pull him back to face me. "Quit being grumpy, I'm just making sure. Imagine that, Mason fucking Beckett being courteous and thoughtful."
"He has his moments," Jace muttered, but I could see the tension leave his face even as he crossed his arms again. "Mostly I'm just surprised you haven't said anything about my outfit."
"Your outfit?" I wondered, looking him over in confusion. "I mean, it's a little basic. Jeans, a thin button-up, looks like boots of some sort, but I wasn't expecting a mesh shirt or bright pink."
He looked down at himself. “You said it's a club."
"Yes," I drew out, cocking my head. "But it's...different."
"Everyone wants to be different."
"And no one can ever hope to be as special as you," I said with a laugh. "Now, quit worrying about your outfit. This isn't some nineties movie where I'm going to whisk you away on some outfit montage. Plus, even if your outfit is basic, that doesn't mean you don't look good in it. Doesn't hurt that you fill out your clothes...quite well."
He blinked, looked down at himself, and turned slightly, and I watched his eyes dart around the sidewalk. There were people, of course, but none of them were paying the slightest attention to us. I wondered what it was like to go through life, worrying about what other people thought about you, that they might be judging you, and about what? The fact that you liked guys?
