“Do you know anything about him?” I ask. “Where he lives, anything like that?”
“No,” he says. “I don’t really care, either. If he wants to come home, he’ll come home. I can’t say he’s going to get a very warm welcome if he does, though.”
“This is where your—”
“Yeah,” he interrupts. “I’ve lived in the same house all my life. The parents somehow paid it off, although that might have been something grandpa did. He went bankrupt indulging my mom. Anyway, other than property taxes and utility bills, this place is free to own.”
“Why aren’t you reacting to what’s happening with Chris?” I ask. It’s blunt, but I think it’s clear enough.
“I don’t know,” he says. “I guess I’m just so used to things going bad that when they do, it’s just, you know. It’s normal.”
“What can I do?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” he says. “I don’t see any reason to get upset about my not being upset.”
“I’m not upset,” I tell him. “I’m just worried about you. If you bottle these things up, they come out, you know.”
“Like in the form of physical confrontation which, one might say, is the most fundamental aspect of MMA?” he asks.
“No need to be a jerk about it,” I tell him. “Just shut up and realize I’m being very sweet right now and you’re very much not.”
“You’re right,” he says. “I’m sorry. I was going to get in the shower. Care to join me?”
“Sure,” I tell him. “Sounds like good, wholesome fun.”
He says, “I don’t know how wholesome that really—“
“Yeah, I was going to say ‘clean,’ but I didn’t want to go with a pun so I winged it,” I interrupt. “Yes, let’s go take a shower.”
“Okay,” he laughs and off we go.
I’m worried about him. He’s smiling and joking now, but even with something like fighting to get the aggression out, it’s still good to talk this stuff through with someone.
Right now, though, I’m not sure my approach would really help. After all, what do I know about this sort of thing? My parents have always had their own, individual team of lawyers so anything they might have done was dropped before it was picked up.
Now that I think about it, I wonder if my parents only stay together because they don’t want to go through the headache of dealing with the other’s legal team.
That’s slightly unnerving.
We get to the bathroom and we get undressed. As Mason turns on the shower and we get in, I decide to bring up something other than Mason’s family for once. “Your hair’s gotten way long,” I tell him.
“Yeah,” he says. “I haven’t cut it since before you and I met. I’m going to have it taken way down before my next fight.”
“We’ve been together for what, two months? Three months?” I ask.
He smirks and says, “I’m not stupid enough to answer questions like that without being able to tell you the minute and, seeing as I don’t have my watch with me…”
“When we first met and you were running around like you were fresh off of your latest mass murder, did you ever think you and I would end up a couple?” I ask.
“Immediately,” he says without hesitation.
“You sound pretty sure about that,” I snicker.
He nods. “Oh yeah,” he says. “As soon as you saw what brand of terrible I looked like and you didn’t take off screaming, I knew you were a keeper.”
“You know,” I tell him, wetting my hair, “Jana was standing out there, too.”
“Yeah, but me and her already dated,” he says. “It was your turn.”
I playfully smack his chest and he laughs. Maybe this is better. Instead of getting bogged down with the way people are “supposed” to process things, maybe we should just focus on actually processing it.
If that means he comes off a little callous when his brother gets arrested, so what? That’s probably going to come in handy down the road, too. Chris doesn’t seem like he’s the changing type, although I’m sure he’ll come out of jail “a new man.”
Every con has a simple concept behind it and that one’s just begging to be grabbed.
I’m a little surprised when Mason leans in and kisses me, a bit more when the kiss keeps going, but it feels good. I’ve been so busy accusing him of not being upset enough and he’s been so busy denying he’s upset at all that we haven’t really focused on the more important things in life.
I kiss him back and put my arms around his shoulders. He’s shaking.
“You okay?” I ask.
“Bit cold,” he says. “About done with the water for a minute?”
“Oh yeah,” I answer. “Sure.”
We switch spots and he puts his head under the water. He turns around to face me, and I’m thinking that’s the end of the romantic part of our shower together when he’s reaching out for me again, pulling me toward him.
Only, he doesn’t have the best footing and so he slips a little. He manages to catch himself before he falls, but his reflex to catch himself caused him to pull me a little harder than he’d intended and I’m now shoulder-checking him in the sternum.
I don’t know how, but we don’t fall over. It’s when I run into him, though, that I notice he’s starting to grow hard. Maybe if it were just in the context of my nakedness or our proximity, I’d take it as a compliment; but with as awkward as the lead-up to this particular erection was, it’s more confusing than anything.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I answer, getting my feet more securely under me and taking a step back so he can stand up straight again.
“You think the mood’s killed?” he asks.
I do. I really do.
That’s not what I say, though. Sex, even sex that starts as clumsily as this, is something I know I could really use right now and, from the way Mason feels in my hand, I’d say he’s good to keep going.
“No,” I tell him. “That was just a momentary hiccup. Come here.”
I pull him closer (slowly) and kiss him deeply on the lips, my mouth parting as we come together, and I’m putting one arm back around him.
“That’s better,” I say optimistically as I stroke his dripping wet shaft with my free hand.
“Ah!” he says before a sharp intake of air.
“What?” I ask. “What’s wrong?”
“Are you wearing a ring right now?” he asks.
“Yeah, I forgot to take it off,” I answer. “I would have once we got in, but I didn’t want to lose it and it’s cold out there so I didn’t want to get back out.” I narrow my eyes a little at him. “Why?”
“It kind of,” he says, “the skin on my—it went between the ring and your… ya caught me a little—”
“Oh!” I say, letting go of him and pulling my hand away. It’s not until he’s saying he’s fine, that he’ll be all right that I realize I’ve just made the very problem he was trying to tell me about much more painful. “Are you all right?” I ask.