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"Mason!" I yelled, banging on his door with my fists. "Open up!"

There was no feeling in my fingers —everything had gone completely numb. Bees had seemed to infiltrate my head, the reverberating sound driving me insane.

I was about to knock again, when the door clicked open.

"What is it?" He frowned, running a careless hand through his hair. He was shirtless, again.

I didn't have time to admire anything.

"Someone trashed my apartment," I breathed, unable to keep the panic out of my voice.

His eyes widened, that tired look dissipating immediately.

"I'll be back," he muttered, almost too quick for me to understand. He returned a few seconds later, this time with a shirt. I could breathe a little better.

He took my hand, leading me back to the apartment. I didn't protest.

When Mason caught the view of the complete mess, he swore. "Who would do something this fuckinʼ stupid?" 

I shrugged. "I don't know. Whoever it is—how did they get in? I'm the only one with an access card to this room."

I flipped out my card to prove that it was still with me. He was still holding on to my other hand, not planning to let go any time soon.

"I have my suspicions," he said, "but I'm calling the cops."

We walked back into his apartment. I pulled away from his hand, the warmth vanishing, and took a seat on his couch with my face in my hands.

"Wait," I started, "who do you think did it?"

There was a long pause before Mason chose to answer.

"That asshole that assaulted you in the club that night," he said, his voice certain.

I frowned. "Doesn't it seem a little too much? Even for him? I mean, all I did was punch him. And it hurt me more than it hurt him."

Mason shook his head. "I didn't...I didn't tell you something. And I don't think Caleb told you either."

I swallowed, not sure if I wanted to know. "What is it?"

"We got that guy arrested," he said. "I think he got out early by paying a fine, though. I thought he'd have learned his lesson, but obviously not."

I just stared at him. They did that for me?

"Well," I started, "if he's some psychotic, revenge-seeking serial killer that kills me in my sleep, I'm so coming back to haunt you two."

"You're not going to get killed," Mason said, his voice low.

I just pulled a face. "That's what they always say to the girl before she freaking gets killed!"

"Calm down, blondie."

"Can you not do that?" I huffed. "Can you not tell a girl to calm down when she so obviously is not in the right mind to actually calm down?"

Mason sighed. Then, his eyes lit up, and he walked away from me.

"What are you doing? Can you at least provide me with some emotional support?" 

He looked up at me. "I'm checking the security camera recording. Surely it must have picked something up."

I nodded.

I walked over to him, where he was standing in front of a monitor attached to his white wall, just next to the entrance.

Mason clicked around, rewinding to the time just after college ended.

It took some time for the monitor to pick up movement, but it did.

"Fuck," Mason swore, "there it is."

He paused the recording, pointing to a hooded black figure tampering with my lock system. The figure looked male, possessing a more masculine build.

I cast a nervous glance toward Mason.

"How did he get past the card system? I thought it was foolproof."

Mason's features were blank. "Nothing's ever really foolproof."

We watched until the hooded figure finally got through. It took ten minutes until he came out again, closing the door as if nothing had happened.

Ten minutes.

It only took him ten minutes to enter and leave.

A shiver ran down my spine.

"He's a professional," Mason concluded.

"I'm not going back in there," I said, shaking my head.

"I'm not letting you go back in there," Mason replied.

I stood, pacing in front of him.

"It's fine, I'm sure Rhia would be fine to let me stay over temporarily," I muttered to myself.

I looked up at him. He just stared at me, the expression he wore almost unreadable. Pensive. Like he was considering doing something very, very questionable.

My breath hitched as I stared back. I wanted him to speak up and say nothing at the same time, and I had to remind myself to breathe. It felt like eons had passed before he finally chose to speak.

"Stay with me," he said, cautiously.

I flashed my eyes at him, surprised.

"I have an extra room."

I swallowed, averting my gaze. "You know I can't do that."

Mason raised a brow. "Why not?"

"Because you're...you."

"Of course I'm me," Mason said, incredulous, "Who the fuck else do you want me to be?"

I laughed lightly, despite everything. "I don't mean it that way."

Mason gave me a blank look. I dismissed it immediately.

"I need to study. And you're..." I paused to search my mind for a better word, "distracting."

Mason looked like he was trying hard not to smirk in my face for admitting that he distracted me.

"You won't see more of me than you need to," he offered, "Now that college has started, I'll be at lectures, and then I'll go to Charley's. The only time you'll see me is mornings and evenings."

I tilted my head. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

He shrugged. "What? So you're questioning my morals now?"

"No. I'm just...suspicious, that's all."

He sighed. "I can cook," he reminded me.

Now that, that was a juicy bone he had dangling.

Mason was offering up a free room in his apartment, and hand cooked meals? I frowned when I realized. What did I have to offer?

"I have nothing to give you in return," I mumbled.

"I thought I said it before," he said, a sauve smile on his lips, "your company is enough."

I glared at him. "Don't give me that shit. I'm not buying it."

Mason sighed. "I'm not sure what you want me to do, blondie. There's only so much I can do."

I huffed, starting to walk away.

"Wait," he said.

I turned, facing him.

"The accounts back at the auto repair are falling apart. The mechanics write down records but they aren't very good at actually processing them. If we had someone with proficient math skills..."

I smiled. "I'll do it," I said.

"So you'll stay here?"

"Temporarily," I reminded him, "Yes."

Mason grinned.

"I don't know why you're so happy," I mused, "you're going to regret this, Valdez."

Mason began walking away, throwing me one last glance behind his back.

"I know I am," he said.

*

"Someone trashed my apartment," I told Asher on the phone.

I could have just texted him.

I could have just not told him.

But I didn't want to deal with the consequences with either of those things, because he'd find out one way or another.

"WHAT," Asher growled.

I flinched. "Someone—"

"I HEARD YOU THE FIRST TIME. ARE YOU OKAY?"

Good God. I angled the phone and lowered the volume.

I nodded, then I realized he couldn't see me. "Yes," I added, "I'm fine. Can you relax?"

"I'M COMING THERE."

My eyes widened. "No, Ash, I'm fine. You don't need to come."

"That apartment was supposed to be high security! HOW THE FUCK DID THEY GET IN? Do you know who it was? WHY'D THEY DO IT? Are you sure you're okay? Ev? EV? C'mon answer me goddammit—!"

"I'm fine! How am I supposed to answer so many questions at once, you idiot! I think it was just a stupid prank. Don't worry about it, really. You need to stay with Wren. She needs you."

Wren, my brother's wife, was pregnant, and I didn't need to be adding to their stress levels. Asher sighed at the other end.

"I'm going to phone in and get them to tighten security. You're still going to stay there?"

The line went quiet for a while.

"Yeah," I said.

Technically.

Asher would burst if I told him any more detail.

"Be safe, Ev."

"I will."

"Don't do anything too stupid," he warned.

I smiled. "No promises."

"I love you, Ev. We miss you. Call more often."

The knob in my chest grew. "Love you too, Ash."

Cutting the call, I exhaled. It had been a long day, and I wasn't nearly finished.

I still had a shit ton of homework to do, and most of my stuff was still in my room.

I went back into the room, where Mason was standing with a police officer. The man nodded at me in acknowledgement.

After answering a few of his questions and allowing him to take pictures, he left.

I was tired, and Mason noticed. Maybe he even felt an ounce of pity for me, because he said, "Tell me what you want to bring over."

I offered him a small smile. He didn't need to be doing this. He didn't need to be here with me right now, but he was.

"Just my college stuff and a few clothes," I replied.

I piled up my extensive range of college textbooks (very, very heavy college textbooks) in his arms, and Mason didn't utter a word. He was pretty strong, too.

When I went inside my room to get clothes and underwear, he followed behind me.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" I cautioned.

Mason stopped in his tracks, raising that dark brow of his.

"Do you really need to be here?" I asked, inwardly cringing.

It could be deemed petty, but I didn't want him to see my room. It was one of those things that just got on my nerves.

"I don't see why not," he countered. He leaned against the doorframe, still holding on to all those textbooks with ease. His toned biceps peeked though the shirt he was wearing.

I exhaled deeply and dramatically, not responding. Nothing could be done, anyway. I stormed into my room, grabbing a change of clothes and underwear.

Mason's dark eyes latched onto my purple bra, and knowingly dragged them back up to me.

Then winked.

"If I throw it at you, will you fetch?" I snapped.

"Ooh, burn," he mused, "I'm gonna need some ice for that one, blondie."

I supplied him with an unimpressed glare, pushing past him despite his figure taking up most of the door frame.

We walked into Mason's apartment for what seemed like the tenth time today.

"This way," Mason said, and I followed him down a short passage to an empty room. The bedding was all white and very neat, much like the rest of his apartment.

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

"How come you have two rooms?" I asked.

"That's how this apartment came," he replied.

"Mine only has one." A bit obvious, but I mumbled it anyway. It didn't make a difference. To either of us, I supposed. Even if my apartment had two rooms, I wouldn't want to sleep there for a long while.

"Thank you," I said. Words of habit.

He nodded. "You really don't have to say it all the time."

"I do, anyway."

Light leaped into his eyes. For a few moments we just stood there, staring at each other without words, as if it was enough to pass us by.

Then, I cleared my throat. "I have homework."

"And?"

"And I intend to do it."

"Don't we all?" he muttered dryly. Then sighed, resigned. "I'm going to sleep. Enjoy your homework."

*

I finished my homework at exactly 1:25 am, and at this point I had completely and effectively destroyed whatever clock my body was working on.

No matter what I did, sleep never came. I had become ultra conscious of how my eyelids were forced shut, and the whole sleeping thing just wasn't working out.

I decided I might as well watch TV. Now on Mason's now familiar white couch, I switched through the channels. They were showing Scream, and I couldn't miss it.

Not an ideal movie to watch just after midnight after someone broke into your apartment, but oh well.

I adjusted the volume to a more acceptable level, sinking back into the couch. 

I was at the part where the girl got stuck in the doggie door and Ghostface switched on the garage. Her screams as she neared her quite certain, quite bloody, and quite painful death filled the air.

But they were also mixed with a scream that was not from the screen, but instead very real. I jumped slightly, fumbling for the remote to lower the volume.

Whatever remained of that distinctly male scream was just pained whimpers, still loud enough for me to hear.

It had come from Mason's room.

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