I cherished those times, and hated when he had to head back to school.
But once I started college, I stopped seeing him at all. It always seemed we had conflicting schedules.
It was difficult at first, adjusting to never seeing him. What made it worse was that I found myself always daydreaming about being with him and wondering what he was up to when I should’ve been engrossed in my studies.
After a while, I got frustrated with my infatuation with him. What was the point of fantasizing about him if it could never be?
I’d go on to be a successful journalist, hopefully, and despite being the most intelligent person I know, he would probably end up slaving at some well-paying job. All the while half of his check going out as child support to the number of girls he’d gotten pregnant.
I really hoped that wasn’t how his life would end up, but he hadn’t given me cause to think otherwise.
Rumor was that he was gifted in both size and skill, and women were lined up to find out if it were true or not. I had to admit, if I wasn’t his stepsister, I’d probably have been in that line right with them.
When eventually I was forced to hear the sounds of sex from his room, I’d had enough, and confronted him about it.
“Why are you being such a manwhore?” I demanded, standing in his doorway with my hands on my hips. One of his little whores had just left giggling and bragging on her cell phone about the ‘amazing sex’ she had and it was all I could do to keep from cussing her bubbly airheaded ass out. “Don’t you know you can catch an STD from one of those skanks?”
Mason, who was shirtless, shrugged and walked over to sit down at his computer desk. “Don’t worry, Carly. I’m not stupid. I always use protection.”
I scowled. “Really? That’s your response?”
“What else do you expect me to say?”
“I hate you!” I hissed with venom. “I hate that you do it. Especially when you don’t have to.” Most of all, I hated how I cared so much. I just didn’t understand, why couldn’t Mason be with just one girl?
What am I more upset at? I wondered. That Mason is using them . . . or that he’s not using me?
He stared at me for a long time before he answered. There was something intense in his gaze when he looked at me, I just couldn’t put my finger on what it was. “A man has his needs.”
“I have needs too,” I said tartly, “but that doesn’t mean I’m going to go around fucking every dick and tom in the neighborhood.”
Suddenly, Mason’s face twisted into a mask of pure fury. “I wouldn’t allow you even if that’s what you wanted to do,” he growled.
I took a step back, unprepared for the rage I saw in his eyes. “Excuse me?”
Mason rose from his seat and walked over to me. “There’s no way I would let any of the douchebags around here lay a finger on you.”
I crossed my arms and scowled at him. “You couldn’t stop me.”
He stepped closer and the heat of his body suddenly enveloped me. “Yes,” he snarled. “I could. I wouldn’t let you turn into a slut.” His expression softened and he brought a hand up to gently stroke my cheek. “You’re too good for that.”
The caress of his hand nearly made me swoon, but besides that, I was flabbergasted. Mason was telling me he could fuck whom he wanted, but I was too good to do the same?
“You’re going to do great things with your life,” he continued. “Don’t ever give yourself away to anyone who doesn’t deserve it.”
“And what exactly makes you think I haven’t already?” I asked. The truth was, I hadn’t, but I could if I wanted. There were plenty of guys who were attracted to me, but the truth was, I couldn’t get over my crush of Mason to even think about it.
“Because I know,” Mason replied, continuing to stroke my cheek, “besides, one day . . .”
His voice trailed off and he looked me in the eyes. I wasn’t sure, but it looked like they were watery.
I must be imagining things, I thought. Mason never cries.
“One day what?” I asked, my heart in my throat.
Mason dropped his hand from my cheek and turned away from me. “Nothing.”
He walked over to his computer and sat down. “You can go now. I have shit to do.”
* * *
Mom set the pot roast she was holding down in the middle of the table and placed her hands on her hips. “Why do you always have to be so difficult?” she demanded, breaking me out of my reverie.
I nearly gagged. Me? Difficult? What planet was my mother on? “I’m not being difficult, Mother,” I said through gritted teeth. “I’m just standing up for myself.” Besides, I was doing my best to avoid Mason. Out of sight, out of mind. That was my motto, and that’s how I planned to get over my crush.
I just hope seeing him today doesn’t send me back into a tailspin, I thought.
“I asked you to go see what was keeping him. What does that have to do with standing up for yourself?” Mom demanded.
Ugh. “Mason can do what he wants, Mom. I’m just here to enjoy myself, not play messenger for you.”