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Chapter 25: Little Italy

Mason sat on his living room couch, his arms and legs crossed as he waited. His right leg, which he had thrown over his left, was gently swinging up and down, up and down. It was a way to distract him while he waited for Mark to arrive. Despite Mason's earlier complaints about not wanting to get up early, he ended up jumping out of bed at 10:00, eager to start the day. He was just too excited about going on another date with Mark. Mason thought it was truly wonderful that he could even be saying that right now. Another date.

Mason had wasted some time in the morning, getting a light breakfast, working on a little post for his second Instagram account. But, once he noticed how close the time was getting to 2:00, he felt that he had to be ready. That was why he was now watching his leg go up and down, up and down in his living room. He would have used his phone to pass the time, Lord knows he's done that time and time again. However, Mason—always one to plan ahead—didn't want to waste power before a long day out.

Maybe he could have found a better way to pass the time if he was in a more interesting room, but the living room was boring to him now. He'd seen it far too often to find anything interesting about it. Mason looked up, noting the pale yellow walls adorned with odd paintings and family photos his mother thought were adorable. The matching dark brown couches that rested on the floor weren't a style choice, Mason knew, but a strategic purchase made by people who knew they would be parents one day. Mason winced, imagining what the accumulated stains would have looked like if the chairs were white. Everything in this room, the walls, couches, and randomly placed items, were just too familiar to him.

So, Mason looked back to his leg, which he continued to stare at until his mother entered the room.

"Oh, you look nice, Mason. Where are you going?" She asked him curiously. Mason looked down at himself, getting reacquainted with his clothes, realizing that he had cuffed everything. The sleeves on his muted yellow shirt were cuffed. His shirt was tucked into his jeans, which were cuffed as well. Mason wondered if dressing like this was the reason why Gabe decided to flirt with him the first time they met.

Mason decided to keep that thought for another day and focus on his mom.

"I'm sorry, I thought I'd already told you. I'm going out with Mark today. We're going to hang around little Italy for a while." He told her, unwittingly giving far more details than necessary.

"Oh, that sounds fun." She hummed, entering the living room further. She walked past Mason, sitting on the opposite end of the sofa, and stared right at him with an excited gleam in her eyes. "You think this will be the major step for your relationship?"

"What?"

"Oh, Mason, don't play dumb with me. I know your father, brother, and I mostly just teased you about it but I really do think that you and Mark would be a great match. Is this where you guys cross the line from friends to boyfriends? Are you two going to kiss tonight? Oh that would be really exciting!"

"Mom!" Mason yelled, covering as much of his face with his hands as possible. Subconsciously, Mason hoped that if he couldn't see his mother and the world around him, he would suddenly be able to disappear. "It is not a date. Oh my gosh, I can't believe you just said that."

Mason's embarrassment and pure mortification did not just come from the fact that he was discussing this with his mother, though that was a large part of it. He was also embarrassed because their relationship had already changed. They'd already kissed, on multiple occasions, though Mason assumed his mom wouldn't figure that out from his reaction. Mason also felt a tiny bit guilty. His mom had obviously assumed that if Mason and Mark kissed, she would know about it quite soon afterwards. He felt a bit bad about keeping everything a secret, but he doubted his mom would be so positive if she learned that Mason planned to not only open his heart but spread his legs.

Just then, at simultaneously the best and worst time, there was a knock on the door. Judging by the volume and pattern of the knock, Mason already knew that his date had arrived. Mason moved to get up before stopping and turning back to his mother.

"Mom, if you do any of that weird stuff in front of him, I am running away and starting a strip club." Mason warned seriously, staring at his mom as he gave the threat. Eleanor winced at his words.

"Now that strip club bit was just cruel."

Mason didn't respond, leaving to open the door for Mark.

Before he opened the door, he took in a small breath, just in case Mark happened to look too good for Mason to handle. And, he was not disappointed. Mark stood there wearing a simple outfit, a white t-shirt, dark grey jeans, and a deep red flannel. Yet, Mason was still stunned. Maybe it was because of the way his hair flopped to one side. Or, it was the soft smile that grew on his face the longer he looked at Mason. Mason took a moment to soak him in and appreciate the fact that he had garnered this man's attention.

"Hey," Mark said, his eyes quickly scanning Mason from head to toe. Mason's cheeks warmed, wondering what Mark saw. Mason responded in kind, leaning against the doorway as he did. He and Mark looked at each other for a moment, neither of them wanting to ruin the moment.

"Hi!" Eleanor called, stepping into the foyer. Mark and Mason jumped at the sudden interruption, turning to stare at the cheerful older woman. "Mason, why don't you invite him in."

Mason's eyes went wide, looking back and forth between his mother and his friend with a look of panic.

"Um, I don't think that's necessary. I think we should just go." Mason told her with a shaky smile. With how pushy his mom was less than five minutes ago, he was worried she wouldn't mind sharing her questions with Mark.

Mrs. Moore's expression dropped, something akin to a pout appearing on her lips.

"Are you sure, I was wondering if Mark planned to-"

Mason shut the door, cutting off whatever horrible thing his mom was about to say. He had barely been able to grab his shoes before he got Mark and left.

Seeing how panicked Mason was, Mark couldn't stop himself from laughing. Mason was still scurrying down their walkway, the tips of his toes turning pink from the cold concrete, as Mark doubled over in laughter.

Mason didn't ask why, he already knew.

"Would you stop laughing long enough to open up your car?" Mason finally asked, crossing his arms with a sigh. Mark pressed the button from his bent over position, practically in tears as Mason's bare feet stepped into the passenger seat.

—————

Mason stared out the window, watching as they moved swiftly through the city. It was one of those moments where he really wished he had a car, instead of trips taking three times longer on the transit.

Mason turned to look at Mark, finding him tapping lightly to the R&B song playing. The two of them had talked for a while when they first got in the car, but when their conversation lulled to silence, Mark started playing music to fill it. Mason had an inkling that was partly his fault. Not long after they started talking, Mason's mind became preoccupied.

He couldn't stop thinking about how excited his mom was about him and Mark. She was still convinced that it was only a matter of time until they kissed, unknowing to the fact that Mark and Mason planned to do far more than that.

But, Mason wanted to tell her that they'd kissed. He wanted to tell many people that even if things weren't romantic, they weren't as one-sided as he'd first believed. Mason wanted to be able to talk about Mark.

But, he didn't know if he could. Mason wanted to know if he could. So he was left in this awkward place where he desperately wanted to talk about things but he couldn't.

Mason looked at Mark yet again, biting his lip softly.

Come on, Mason, just say it. Ask about it.

Even after trying to mentally pressure himself into doing it, Mason's mouth stayed closed.

You are going to do this on the count of three. 1, 2, 3-

"Mark, can I ask you something?" Mark sent a few glances Mason's way, curious. "It's about us. Telling other people about us, I mean. I haven't said anything to any of our friends or Jasmine but I want to be able to tell them that things are happening between us and to get their opinions and advice you know but I haven't because I was worried that you didn't want me to. Do you want me to?"

Mark was silent for a moment before a heavy sigh left his mouth.

"Mason," He began, a tense expression on his face. Mason knew that wasn't a good sign. "I'm not sure. I don't like talking about my sex life with my family and friends much. When things aren't serious with someone, I don't see a need to . . . announce them."

Mark met eyes with Mason, and Mason got the message. Mark didn't see a need to announce him. Mason blinked a couple of times, the words quickly setting in. The hurt came first, then the knee-jerk reaction to mask it came afterwards. Mason had to hope that Mark wasn't paying attention when the look of pure pain flashed across his face before he could hide it. Mason let out a shuddering breath, his eyes going blank.

"Oh, alright. I get it."

Mark looked over at Mason, a bit concerned with how . . . bland he was. His brows furrowed. He tried to revise his words, make them not sound as bad.

"Mason, I really don't mean any harm."

It was a weak effort on Mark's part. Mason continued to stare forward and shrugged.

"No, it's fine, really. I don't talk about sex that much either so I get it." He told Mark, that same impersonal voice as before. Mason's eyes found Mark, but just looking at his face got him too upset. He turned back. "I'm just gonna relax until we get there."

Mason closed his eyes, placing his head on the window and attempted to sleep. It was impossible of course. He was thinking about 500 things at once and could feel Mark's eyes coming to him over and over again. There was no chance in hell he would ever relax.

After 23 minutes of quiet driving and uncomfortable silence, Mason felt when the car was parked. He looked out the car window, finding himself looking at a small restaurant. He then sat up, his eyes taking in the burnt red and brown stones that adorned the front of the store. His staring was interrupted by the loud sound of Mark shutting the driver's side door behind him.

Mason felt tension gripping his body, forcing his body to tighten all over. Before he left his house, he'd been excited to enjoy a fun and relaxing day with Mark. Now, he feared that he's already ruined it before it's begun.

Still, he couldn't just stay in his car forever. So, Mason got out and walked into the cute breakfast place with Mark. It was even more adorable on the inside than Mason expected. It looked as if it had been decorated 50 years ago and was never redone. The exposed brick, metal tables, and black and white photos all made Mason feel comfortable. It felt like a home he forgot existed.

Mark took the lead, walking over to a table further back. The two slipped into their seats, continuing to take in the scenery. When Mason finished his observations, he turned back to Mark, being hit by his piercing stare. Mason wanted to squirm from the sheer intensity of it. He wondered only for a moment why Mark was staring.

"Are we okay?" He asked, concern etched onto his face. "You've been quiet."

"Yeah. Everything's fine." Mason told him, trying to bring out as much conviction as he could. He clearly did not do a good job when Mark continued to push.

"Look, I thought we were on the same page with all of this."

Same page? Those words worried Mason. They made him think of a guy telling his fuck buddy that since they were no longer on the "same page," things would have to end. Mason couldn't let things end. Things haven't even started! The furthest they've gone is kissing or a hand on the thigh.

Mason already knew that the hurt and rejection he'd feel when things finally did end would hurt. But, he always consoled himself with the knowledge that he would at least have Mark's body and his time, even if he never earned his heart.

This situation wasn't the dramatic end to a fuck buddies novel. This would be humiliating and terribly disappointing. Mason refused to end this experience without at least knowing what it felt like to be in Mark's arms.

Mason reached across the table, grabbing Mark's hands into his own firm grip. He did not shy away from it or try to hide from it, now meeting Mark's gaze full-on.

"I am fine." Each word was said with as much confidence and conviction as Mason's body could muster. "It's just . . . I'm used to talking to people about stuff and always being able to ask for advice. Like, my mom has had this idea that we'll be really good together. That's the reason why I pulled you out so fast. She was definitely going to talk to you about that and I didn't want to be embarrassed. Again."

Mark threw his head back as he laughed, his hands remaining connected with Mason's.

"I should be surprised but that is such an aunt Eleanor thing to do." Mark commented, smiling at the thought. He could practically hear such comments coming from the older woman herself. Mason laughed as well, agreeing.

"Well, both of our moms are really energetic." Mason observed with a wide smile. "Though my mom isn't a world-class dancer and professional chef."

"Okay, that jab didn't go unnoticed. You think my mom is worse?"

Mason shrugged, a quirk of his lips ruining his impartial facade.

"Not worse, just far more extra than mine."

Mark was visibly hit by that comment, probably because it was true, but tried to prove Mason wrong.

"Hey, I can't argue against the dancing, but she only seems like a professional chef to you because she makes the good stuff when you come over. There are some foods she just can't make."

Mason raised a brow, clearly incredulous.

"Like what?"

Mark was ready for that question and did not miss a beat.

"Fried rice." A surprised laugh left Mason's mouth, his left hand flying up to his mouth. "She can never salt it or season it properly so it just ends up as warmed rice in a pan."

That was the last food Mason was expecting. He had very little skill in the kitchen, but even he could make a semi-decent fried rice. Mark revelled in Mason's amusement, confidence filling him with each laugh out of Mason's mouth. Mason began to calm, his laugh dying down.

"Well, her lasagna is amazing." Mason sighed, wanting to defend a woman who wasn't in the room.

"Yeah," Mark nodded, the memory of the meat and tomato sauce in the back of his mind. "And of course her-"

"Fried chicken."

"Fried chicken."

They froze for a second, surprised that they had said the same thing at the same time. Then, they both laughed. While laughing, Mark caught sight of the counter and the wall behind it where the menu was listed. They've been talking for however long and still have not ordered anything.

While Mark felt quite embarrassed about doing that, it also made him happy. The times he enjoyed most with Mason were when they'd lose complete track of time in each other. He had been so worried that his response to Mason's question would have ruined the entire day. Yet, here they were, laughing and talking way too loud for way long, just as they should.

Mark stood up, letting his palms slip out of Mason's hold. He quickly slipped his hands into his pockets to ignore how cold his hands felt.

"I'm going to go get us some breakfast-y stuff. Do you want anything in particular?" Mark asked kindly, gesturing to the counter on the farther end of the shop. Mason looked over at the menu, squinting to get a proper look at the words.

"Uh, I guess anything with eggs?" Mason's statement came out more like a question with how indecisive he was. "I don't really care. I'm sure it's all good."

Mark left the table and came back in under five minutes with hot drinks and a promise of breakfast being brought to them soon.

Mason took a tentative sip of his drink, happy at the taste of coffee heavily diluted through the use of milk, cream, sugar, and syrups. Mason assumed Mark had skipped out on coffee all together and was drinking some sort of fruity or energizing tea.

There was silence between them for a moment while they sipped their drinks. Then, a thought came to mind and Mason felt the need to share it.

"You know, your parents are crazy talented." Mason began, staring down at his drink with a smile on his lips. "The cooking and dancing are the big things I know about your mom and I feel like she raised you to be like her, in a way."

Mark pursed his lips, his expression scrunching up to show his disagreement.

"I don't know." He mumbled, squinting his eyes as if the lack of vision would help him find an answer. Then, he chuckled softly. "I don't think my cooking is that good."

Mason laughed as well. Comparing the foods Mark made with the amazing dishes his mom could cook up seemed incredibly silly.

"But, your dancing." Mason reminded him, watching a flash of understanding pass over Mark's face. It felt weird complimenting himself, but he did agree. Mark was proud of his talents with dance. It was one of the few things Mark did that he would proudly offer up as a talent. Mason's smile widened as a memory came to mind.

"You know, I remember that one time in elementary school when you and Jasmine did a ballroom dancing performance in front of the whole school." Mason mentioned with a grin. Mark sat up excitedly, an image of 12-year-old him in a sparkly black outfit coming to mind.

"Oh yeah!" Mark laughed, the memories coming back all at once. "I had gotten some mixed reactions from the guys after that performance. Some were impressed by it. Others were intimidated that I could move so fast. Then there was the group of boys weirded out that I did so many body rolls and hip stuff, thought it was too feminine."

Something about that phrase reminded Mason of his earlier years. He was so different back then. He wasn't nearly as confident or bubbly because he was too insecure about doing things that were "too girly." The last thing he wanted was for someone to figure him out. Mason's smile slipped, the negative emotions from his past getting to him. Mason had unknowingly begun to stare at the table, but a soft squeeze to his hand brought Mason's attention back to the boy in front of him.

"Mason, I didn't really care about what they said. Especially after I saw you in the crowd. Your eyes were sparkling."

Mason laughed, surprised and a bit embarrassed.

"Sparkling? That seems a bit dramatic."

"It's the truth. The way you were staring at me was something else." Mark chuckled at how Mason became more visibly embarrassed the more he went on. "You were looking up at me like I was a god. You must have really liked my dancing."

Even with their current situation, Mason had no plans of admitting the truth. Even more than his dancing, Mason had loved the pure passion that Mark showed as he danced. Mason had added it onto the ever growing list of things that made Mark wonderful. Perfect. But, Mark thought Mason liked the dancing. So, for him, he would just like his dancing.

"Yeah, your performance was great."

Mark was not so humbly enjoying Mason's compliment when a server walked up with their food. The older man placed a colorful cold cut sandwich in front of Mark while Mason found himself staring at a large, golden yellow omelette.

The food was delicious. That is what Mark expected, though, when he found it with a 4.8 star rating. Brunch was great but what surprised Mason even more was how they kept up the experience for the rest of the day. After Brunch, they went to a market in the neighborhood. They would take turns pointing out interesting foods and goods being sold and gouged themselves on the countless samples.

Mark led them straight from the market to a nearby park where they counted their findings and ate any foods they'd bought. Mason hadn't dressed up for so much walking but never complained about how much they walked. Even once they stepped off grass and onto concrete just to tour the streets, Mason enjoyed exploring with Mark.Time passed effortlessly while they were together. One topic rolled into another and even after they'd talked about everything under the sun, there was always something else to say. Mason loved it.

When it began to get darker and the street lights started to come on, Mason suggested that they finally get some dinner. They picked one of the first places they came across, which happened to be a pizzeria. It was the first time for both of them to have some real Italian-style pizza. The cheese and flavour was abundant and, even as Mason made a mess of himself with the sauce, Mark always looked at him the same way.

Throughout the day, Mark's focus never shifted. He would watch Mason so attentively, Mason had no doubt he could see every change of expression on his face. At times, Mason considered purposely thinking about everything he felt for Mark just because he knew Mark would see it.

And finally, they made their way to Mark's recommended gelato shop. The only reason why they had chosen to spend their day in Little Italy was because of this store. Mason had been worried that he would over hype the place in his head and be disappointed when he tasted the gelato. Yet, when he had the first scoop, he was far from disappointed.

The last thing they did was sit out on the patio, sharing ice cream and laughter where anyone could hear them without a single care.

—————

The ride back to Mason's place was surprisingly silent. Mark's music played through the speakers and, while they could have spoken over it, they both decided not to. As he'd done the ride before, Mason's mind drifted to another concern.

He looked over at Mark, his eyes trailing from his green eyes and thin lips down his shirt, stopping at his pants. Mason couldn't help where the trail of his thoughts had led him. Now, more than ever, it was all he could think about. Mason had stared for too long, he knew, and stared out the window again. Mark didn't say a word and Mason had no way of knowing if Mark had even noticed.

That day had been truly incredible, but now Mason wanted more. He should have been berating himself for being ungrateful. They had enjoyed an amazing day out together and he should be satisfied with that.

But, Mason was too opportunistic. He thought, if there was ever a time for Mark to agree, that time would be today.

The car began to slow down and Mason tensed. They had come to his house. Mason stared up at it through the window. Such a familiar place was now foreign through his new eyes. The eyes of opportunity. This was no longer just his home but the place where everything could change.

Perhaps everything had changed already. But now, at this moment, this was the single most important thing in Mason's life. Everything narrowed down to this moment when he would put himself out there for Mark like he'd never done before.

Mason bit his lip and shifted to face Mark. Mark was watching him silently, curiously. Why hadn't Mason left yet? Mason had an idea, but he wasn't sure if he could go through with it. He wanted to do it, but his fear paralyzed him. He closed his eyes and counted.

5 4 3 2 1 . . .

Mason clicked his seatbelt open. Yet instead of leaving, he moved towards Mark. Mark's eyes opened wide, watching as Mason crawled over the divider and into his lap. Almost instinctively, his hands latched onto Mason's hips. They were both breathing in shuttered breaths. The way that the tension and heat suddenly spiked between them was almost too much to bear. Mark looked down at Mason's body before his gaze slid back up to Mason's eyes. Mason, however, couldn't decide what he wanted to look at more, Mark's bright green eyes or his pale pink lips.

"Mason . . . " Mark whispered, his eyes nearly fluttering closed when Mason fully settled onto his lap. "What-what are you doing?"

Mason bit at his lip again, now focused on Mark's.

"I told you that I wouldn't be able to wait very long and honestly my patience is starting to wear thin." Mason then caught Mark's eyes. Mark was shocked. The amount of need he saw in two brown eyes was insane. His blood grew warm and his breaths became shorter. "Mark, are you going to make me wait any longer?"

Mark's hand slipped to the back of Mason's head and pulled him down to crash their lips together.

When the two eventually made their way into Mason's house and told his parents that Mark would sleepover, they hoped their tousled hair and red lips wouldn't give them away. Five minutes later, they fell into his bed. Mason was never more grateful for having taken a chance.

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Hey Guys!

I think that I never named Mr. Moore, Mason and Aiden's dad. Please put any name suggestions for him or any possible characters here.

Anywho,

I hope you enjoyed their little date.

Once again, warning NO smut, but things did happen.

Vote, Comment, Share, Follow, anything else you can do with this book and I will see you next time. Bye!!!

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