“Okay, that’s enough,” Vivi said with a laugh as she reached for her plate.
“Non, non, mademoiselle,” he said with a terrible French accent as he held the plate in the air. “It is not finished yet.” He carried it over to the cereal bar and sprinkled cornflakes on top.
“What? No!” Vivi said as she tried to grab the plate.
Mason pivoted and managed to add a serving of Lucky Charms before she yanked her breakfast from his grasp. “This is disgusting,” she said, eyeing the concoction.
He looked hurt. “Are you doubting my culinary skills? Just take a bite. It’ll blow your mind.”
“I’ll be sure to report back. Unless . . . are you sitting with anyone?” She paused as her heart began to race, just as it always did when she did something that could potentially end badly. “Do you want to sit together?” The moment the words left her mouth, she immediately regretted saying anything. They’d had a fun exchange, and now she’d ruined everything by being a weirdo.
“I’d be honored,” he said with a smile. “I’m Mason, in case you didn’t catch it earlier.”
“Vivi,” she said.
“Vivi,” Mason repeated. “I like it.”
She followed him to one of the round tables and lowered her tray gingerly, careful not to let her coffee or orange juice slosh over the sides of the cups.
“Ah, freshmen,” Mason said. “So innocent, so lacking in tray-holding muscle memory.” He placed the tray on the table with an exaggerated flourish.
“Are you a sophomore?” Vivi asked.
“Senior.”
“Then how come you haven’t learned how to make an edible waffle by now?”
Mason faked an offended gasp. “How can you say that? You haven’t even tried it yet.” Without asking, he reached across to cut himself a piece. For a moment, Mason’s arm brushed Vivi’s and she felt a spark at the touch.
She ignored the heat in her cheeks at the intimacy of the gesture and was about to cut herself a square when he swallowed his own bite and grimaced.
“Ha! See?” she said. She lowered her knife and fork and picked up a strip of bacon instead.
He smirked. “So, besides attacking people with suitcases and burning waffles, what do you enjoy doing? Are you one of those freshmen with their whole four years planned out already or the kind who changes their major three times?”
“The latter, probably. I’ve spent my whole life barely able to plan my next week, let alone years, plural.”
“Really?” he asked, surveying her with new interest. “Why’s that?”
She took a sip of coffee to stall for time. The last thing she wanted to talk to a cute guy about was her exasperating mother. “My childhood was a little . . . unconventional. We moved around a lot, sometimes without much notice.”
She braced for a look of confusion—or, worse, pity—and was surprised to see a trace of wistfulness in his face. “It sounds nice, getting to start over now and then.”
“Trust me, being the new kid gets old pretty fast.”
“Yeah, but if things didn’t go well at one school, you could try something completely different at the next one. You could write angsty poetry with the goth kids, or join the fencing team, or decide to wear a top hat and monocle every day.”
Vivi cocked her head and furrowed her brow. “Maybe . . . if you were the new kid at school in 1894.”
Mason laughed. “Fair enough. But I do think there’s something to be said for making friends who haven’t known you your whole life and who think they know you better than you know yourself.”
Vivi considered this. On the one hand, she’d give anything for a group of friends who knew her that well. But on the other, it was freeing to make a radical change, like rushing a sorority, and not have anyone judge her for it. “So what would you do if none of that mattered?”
“I’m not sure,” he said as he placed his silverware on the table and ran his hands through his curly hair. “I guess that’s the problem.” He smiled and shook his head. “Sorry, that’s too much deep talk for breakfast.”
“Does this count as deep?” Vivi asked. “Feels like advanced small talk to me.”
“You’ve got a lot to learn about the South, sweetheart,” he said, exaggerating his drawl. Even though she knew he was teasing her, the word sweetheart made her chest tingle. “The only things you’re allowed to talk about at breakfast are the heat and sports scores.”
“Well, it’s not that hot out and I don’t know anything about sports, so I guess we’ll have to sit here in silence.” She paused. “Or else see if it’s not too late for me to transfer to Oberlin.”
He laughed. “So what about you, New Girl? Who are you going to be at Westerly?”
“That’s . . . a big question.” In any other situation, she would’ve steered the conversation toward less personal ground, but Mason was looking at her with such interest and sincerity, it felt almost rude not to answer truthfully. “I guess I want to find something I’m passionate about. Something real.”
“What does real mean?”
“Something that’ll help me understand the world, like environmental science or history or psychology.” She paused, waiting for him to call her out on her pretension, but he merely nodded, encouraging her to continue. “I’ve spent too much time surrounded by people who refuse to accept reality. I don’t want to be afraid of the truth. Does that make sense?”
“Yes,” he said, nodding slowly, though his expression had turned serious. Maybe she’d gone too far and he was figuring out how to extract himself from the conversation. She was considering faking a text from Ariana just to give Mason a way out when she was saved by the arrival of someone else joining them at the table. At least, so Vivi thought, until that person stopped to rest a hand on Mason’s shoulder. “There you are,” she drawled. “I thought we were meeting on the quad.”
It was the girl from the rush party who’d handed her a sparkler. She bent to kiss Mason on the cheek, and Vivi’s stomach flipped like she’d just missed a step on the stairs. Uh-oh.
“Shoot, sorry. I lost track of time.” Mason’s chair scraped against the floor as he rose abruptly and picked up his tray. “I’ll just return this. Be right back.”
“That’s all right,” the girl said sweetly as Mason hurried off. She turned to Vivi. “I’m Scarlett. Vivian, was it?”
“Yes. Vivi.”
“So, Vivi, I see you’ve met my boyfriend.”
The word landed hard, sending ripples of embarrassment and disappointment through her. Boyfriend. Of course Mason was taken. And by a Kappa, naturally.“Yeah, he showed me how to use the waffle maker,” Vivi said quickly. “Cooking’s not really my thing.”
“Always the gentleman,” Scarlett said, the sweetness draining from her voice. “You’re so brave, coming to breakfast dressed like that.” She nodded at Vivi’s sweatpants. “I wish I could be so . . . uninhibited.”
Vivi blushed and, to her annoyance, she was still searching for a retort when Mason returned and took Scarlett’s hand. “Stay out of trouble, Vivi,” he said before following Scarlett out of the cafeteria.