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Chapter 18: Sore Everywhere!

Mason's hands fell onto the handles on either side of him, letting his weight heavily rest on his hands. The treadmill was slowly coming to a stop but, in that moment, any motion other than none was already too much. That morning, Mason once again had nothing important to do.

He wasn't planning on hanging out with his friends and he had no class so it was going to be one of his mattress potato days. However, his mom found him lying in bed with a phone in his hand for the umpteenth time and decided she would play dirty in order to get him to do something. She was going to play the guilt card.

Mason felt his chest sinking further and further into his bed as she spoke about all the times she and his father and spent money on him only for him to spend days off doing nothing productive. She even went on to talk about how he was not only wasting away his mind and body by lying in bed all day like he was, but he was wasting their investment. 

Of course, both of them knew this wasn't necessarily true. Mason got out fairly often and his break was his reward for years of dedicated study and effort before he trained to become a nurse. But, the guilting worked and Mason wanted to know what he could do to appease his mother.

As the crafty manipulator that she was, his mother skillfully brought up the gym because it would be a "nice way to get active that morning."

So, here Mason was, dying on the treadmill after running for nearly an hour. He was proud to have gotten to 52 minutes but his breathing was about to choke him so he decided to stop. Mason sent some self-conscious glances around the room, looking to see if the two others in the gym were staring at his tired form. They weren't, far more focused on their own gains than the dying boy on the other side of the room.

Mason sighed—partly in relief but also because he was still trying to get his breathing in check—and slowly stepped off of the treadmill. For Mason, the worst part of the entire experience, other than feeling quite embarrassed because of his breathing, of course, was having to make the half an hour walk back home. 

He had been awoken by his mom that morning for the guilt trip and was convinced to leave the house with her so she could drop him off. But, she had only given him a ride to go there, not one back. She was likely typing her butt off and working the hours away. So Mason, being the great son he was, assumed that walking home wouldn't be a big deal.

He had planned to just do some light workouts, maybe jog a bit, then take a peaceful walk home. He ended up pumping his biceps raw by overestimating what was easy to lift, making his abs sore by trying to outdo the older woman crunching away the fat of her three kids, then running for 52 minutes because an hour didn't seem that long.

Mason was spent and the walk home was an incredibly specific type of hell.

The second he got home, he collapsed into bed, going to sleep in his full workout gear. His salty skin had dried during the walk so he thought his sheets would be fine. Mason knew his skin would be cursing him for doing this to it, but he didn't really care. All he could think about was the sweet feeling of rest.

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Mason woke up to the sound of his phone ringing about two hours later. The first thing he noticed was the clock at the side of his bed telling him that it was 2:09 in the afternoon. Mason didn't get much time to process what that meant because he then picked up his phone, checked the caller ID, and proceeded to have a heart attack.

He sat up abruptly in his bed, groaned at the screaming pain in his stomach, and stared at his phone again. His eyes were wide and his breathing a bit shallow, but he didn't answer it. He had no idea what he was going to say. Then, his phone stopped ringing. 

Mason stared at it in shock. They had just called him after they hadn't properly talked on their own in weeks, and he let them hang up. He yelped and dropped his phone when they called him for a second time. 

Mason scrambled to pick it up but didn't hesitate this time. He quickly answered the phone.

"Uh, hello?" He said, blurting out the first thing that came to mind. It was a fairly normal response but Mason thought it was completely stupid and face-palmed.

"Hey, Mason." Mason sagged into his bed at the sound of Mark's voice. He was a bit concerned because Mark sounded odd. When they spoke on the phone, Mark usually had a slight cheerfulness to his voice. Or, if he was surrounded by other people while they were on the phone, he would put on a cool front. However, he didn't sound like either of those options. His voice was a low murmur as he spoke. While it was very sexy, it was also weird. 

Mark was silent for a while, so Mason thought it was his responsibility to take control of the conversation.

"So, uh, why are you calling me-"

"I'm coming over, I'll be there in forty."

Then he hung up.

Minutes? Mason wondered before shaking his head when he realized it was a dumb question. 

"What are you even talking about Mason, of course minutes."

Mason laid back down on his bed, chuckling softly to himself. It was about two seconds later that he sat up again with a start. After he took a second to complain about his sore stomach, he panicked.

"He'll be here in forty minutes!"

Mason proceeded to run around his room and into his closet to get ready for Mark's arrival. The first order of business was finding something better to wear because he was not going to let Mark—who he had kissed a couple of weeks ago, mind you— see him in his sweaty gym clothes. 

After he had picked out clothes that were probably too nice to have been wearing on a normal day, he went to take a rushed shower. With each body part that he scrubbed down, he thought about how much better it would make him look in front of Mark.

This was probably a bit obsessive of Mason, but he couldn't really think with how fast he was rushing around. After he was fresh and cute, he even cleaned his room a little bit. But, time got to him and the next thing he knew, he heard a knock on the door.

He stopped fluffing his pillows and started to fluff his hair as he walked down the stairs. Mason opened the door and was surprised to see that his nervous smile was matched by Mark.

Mark Tyler came over to Mason's house. Nervous. That was incredibly odd to Mason who knew him as the ever cool and collected one in the group.

"Uh, hey." Said Mason, holding onto the bottom of his shirt awkwardly.

"Hey." Mark, sensing Mason's mood, seemed to relax a bit and his typical slouch came back. Mason smiled wider, hoping he seemed inviting.

"I'm guessing you want to come in right?" He asked jokingly before quickly retracting his words. "Nevermind, forget that. Of course, you want to come in. That was a dumb joke."

Mason rushed away from the door, standing in the doorway between the foyer and the living room so Mark could get in. Mark chuckled as he walked in, but he didn't say anything about it. The two walked into the living room and sat on the couch. As they did so, Mason became uncomfortable with the silence. He wanted to make some joke or spark a great conversation, but where did he start? 

"I'm sorry for coming here out of the blue like that." Mark apologized, taking the responsibility of starting the conversation away from Mason.

"It's alright." Mason told him honestly. He really didn't mind, especially with Mark. 

Mason's mind was drawn back to his previous unease. It was odd that he had trouble talking in the first place. Mason was usually great with these things. It was annoying for him to think that he was probably acting weird because of Mark.

"I was just thinking about—" Mark cut himself off mid-sentence, and Mason turned to him with a confused frown. "Anyway, I didn't even think about what I was doing before I came over here."

"Don't even worry about it." Mason chuckled, waving away Mark's apology. He was already over it. He had been surprised and a bit panicked by the news, but when he found out Mark was coming over, he became extremely excited. Mark did not have to apologize for that. Mason did, however, want an answer about something else. "Why did you come over?"

Mark's eyes went a bit wide and he coughed abruptly. Mason, already on edge, jumped into action. Helping in any way that he could, he rubbed his back and offered to get him some water. Mark's eyes went even wider at this and he shook his head.

"No—" He paused to clear his throat. "You don't need to do that."

Mason was still a bit worried, but he stopped pushing the water thing and sat back down. But, his hand lingered on Mark's back. Mason was a bit bold for leaving it there since he did notice that he hadn't pulled it back yet. He thought that if Mark wouldn't stop him, he would leave it there. 

Mark didn't stop him.

Mark turned his head to look at Mason properly. He took in his large brown eyes, caramel skin, and chocolate brown hair. Mason stared at Mark as if he was important and Mark was finally starting to notice the effect that had on him.

Mark bit his bottom lip irritatedly and shifted his gaze to the TV instead. Mason noticed Mark's sudden shift in mood and got a little concerned.

"Mark? Is something wrong?" Mason questioned, rubbing Mark's back again. Mark stared at the dark TV for a moment, figuring out what he wanted to say.

"Nothing's wrong." He muttered quietly, feeling Mason relax from behind him. Almost immediately afterwards, Mark began shaking his head. "No, that's a lie. Something is definitely wrong."

Mark stood up, his back towards Mason. His breathing was getting faster and his fists were clenched tightly at his sides. Mark stared out a window, trying to collect himself before he did something stupid. Mason decided to stand up too and watched this all in bewilderment. He opened his mouth to ask 'what's wrong?" but Mark spoke first.

"You."

Mason stood utterly still as Mark stared at him with heated eyes. What about me? He wished to ask, but Mark's expression kept him silent. Mark seemed lost for a moment, his eyes betraying the turmoil inside of him. He shoved his hands into his hair and groaned.

"I—you!" Mark stumbled over his words over and over again before he decided to simply turn his back to Mason and just speak. That's when he finally got the words out. "You're so beautiful and that is so confusing."

Mason had no idea what that meant, so he took it the wrong way.

"What? How is that my fault?" He asked, crossing his arms with an annoyed scowl. Mark turned around, a fire lit up in his eyes.

"There are no faults here, Mason." Mark told him frustratedly, searching for the right words. "You just—"

Mark couldn't find the right words. 

When Mark took his cheeks and pulled Mason in for their second official kiss, Mason was stunned. After spending weeks trying to figure out how to deal with his feelings for Mark, the guy was kissing him in his living room. But, Mason welcomed it wholeheartedly.

The first thing he did was snake his hands into Mark's already messed up hair and mess it up some more, pulling sharply on the strands. Mark saw this as Mason accepting his kiss and took it a step further. He wrapped his arms around Mason's waist and hugged the other boy against his chest. It was in this position that two kissed, melting further into one another by the second.

Mason soon felt very hot with Mark's warm body and heated breath against him. His lower body accidentally rubbed against Mark's and he had to bite back a moan. Despite how passionate it was getting, tongue hadn't been introduced into their kiss.

However, when Mark used his right hand to tilt up Mason's head and try to snake his tongue into Mason's mouth, Mason gasped in surprise. He was so surprised, in fact, that he stepped back, hitting his calf on the coffee table and tripped, losing his balance. By the time he steadied himself, he was a good three feet away from a wide-eyed Mark. 

Mason's face went pink and he began chuckling uncomfortably. Mark joined in but instead of making things less weird, it made them more so. Mason stopped laughing, replacing it with a small smile. Mark stopped laughing as well but he wasn't smiling. Mason stood up straight.

"So . . . what was that?" Mason went on to ask, fixing his shirt as he did so. Mark, usually the calm and collected one of the pair, looked at Mason with a frightened expression.

"I don't know." 

Mason wasn't sure if he heard him right for a second. Mark had come to his house, kissed his lights out, but doesn't know why? Mason wanted to keep this irritation from showing. He let out a deep breath before responding.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Mark, not knowing what to say, shot the same question back.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Mason wasn't sure why Mark wouldn't answer his question. He's the one that kissed him, there was no question about it, yet he wouldn't even give him a straight answer. Mason crossed his arms again, narrowing his eyes at Mark.

"Maybe." He said, a determined look on his face. "Maybe I do want to talk about why you came to my house, said a bunch of gibberish, then kissed me."

Mark winced at Mason's reply, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck. Mason hadn't beat around the bush and Mark knew that Mason expected the same from him. However, Mark didn't know if he had the answer to Mason's question.

"Can we talk about it later?"

Mason wanted to scream. Later? Why wait? Both of them were here and free, completely able to sit down and talk about what was on their minds like adults. Why couldn't Mark just say it? Mason walked up to Mark, his crossed arms almost touching Mark's chest. He was right in Mark's space, challenging him.

"Why?"

Mark couldn't maintain eye contact. Mason wanted the truth from him that day. He wanted Mark to tell him exactly why he kept kissing him, but Mark didn't know, not really. Yes, he knew that he wanted to kiss Mason. But saying "I wanted to" isn't enough. It's not enough when a friendship as long as theirs is changed because of such a kiss. Mark thought that Mason would need the why. Mason would want Mark to tell him why Mark wants to kiss him. Why now? But Mark couldn't answer that.

"I-I need some time." 

Mason visibly deflated at this. Mark was running away, going off and leaving him with more questions than he started with. Just like last time. 

Mason took a step back. He didn't want to be in Mark's space anymore. It made him too upset. Mark saw how disappointed and bothered Mason looked. He wanted to reach out and touch him, but he clenched his fists and kept them away.

"I'm sorry." That wasn't everything that Mark wanted to say, but he settled with it for now.

Mason didn't say anything. He didn't accept that poor excuse of an apology, not now. Mark didn't want to talk about it so Mason didn't have anything else to say to him. Mark stood there and stared at Mason for several moments before he walked out of the room. Mason watched silently as Mark left his home. He didn't move an inch so he only knew that Mark drove away when he heard his car start and drive off.

Mark was gone and Mason was more attached to Mark than he ever was before. The real question was, what would happen to them next?

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That's what I'm wondering! Figuring out what's next then writing a chapter about it is no joke. Mad respect to the authors that pop out chapters like tweets.

So, did you like?

We're gonna start getting into the part of the book that I'm excited for, so y'all better get ready.

Here's a different type of question for you guys.

How long do you think it'll take for Mark to have an answer?

Our sweet boy's a little slow with these things, so any guess is valid.

Anywhore, I love you all and wish you all the best!

Vote, Comment, Share, Follow, anything else you can do with this book and I will see you next Chapter.bye!!!👋🏾👋🏾👋🏾

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