RUSH

Ch. 15: Good Intentions

-Mason-

"You can't be serious," I muttered under my breath, dazedly looking around at the state of our room, which was damply coated by Eric's sorry excuse for a fruit smoothie. I wiped some of the dark purple liquid off my face before cursing him out under my breath, quickly realizing that the floors, walls, and some of my textbooks were, in fact, also covered in the sticky substance.

I was also defeatedly drenched in the remains of Eric's attempted beverage, barely holding in the urge to strangle him.

"Who forgets to put the lid on a blender before turning it on?" I yelled in disbelief while running my fingers through my hair, picking off some of the slices of... pineapple?

"I said I was sorry!"

"What exactly did you think would happen?"

Eric pouted from where he stood beside me, somehow mostly intact despite having been closer to the blender. "I forgot, alright? How about we focus on the fact that I was so kindly trying to make us a smoothie?"

I'd just returned from class and had managed to change into workout clothes when I was rudely bombarded by the remains of those innocent fruits. "No, I don't think I will!"

Eric flashed me a sheepish smile, using the edge of his shirt to wipe some of the smoothie from my cheek. "There, there... so much better."

"Screw you! You're not coming anymore!" I called out while fetching a change of clothes, cringing at the squelch that erupted from the floor as I stepped on a particularly moist spot on the carpet.

In all honesty, I still didn't quite understand why I'd caved so easily after months of saying no. Eric had wrongly suggested that it was because I was afraid of confronting Bennett without someone there to back me up... as if he'd ever been all that helpful as a wingman in the first place.

Nevertheless, at around three in the morning, I'd finally conceded, if only due to the sour realization that I was getting no sleep otherwise.

All I could say was that Eric could be brutally relentless when he put his mind to it.

"I was trying to be nice!" Eric complained—whined, really—before walking over to the closet where we kept the cleaning supplies. "I'm sorry, alright? I was just trying to be spontaneous. I headed to the store after class and bought all these fruits—"

"I don't care!"

"—let me finish, jerk! As I was explaining, I bought all these fruits so I could make us a smoothie! I even stopped by your house and got your parents to lend me their blender!"

I glared at him, warily narrowing my eyes before giving the blender a second glance. Huh, it did seem vaguely familiar now that he mentioned it. "You can see how that's weird, right?"

Eric scoffed. "Richard thought it was a great idea, actually."

"Did he? Is that what Richard thought?" I retorted sarcastically, rolling my eyes. Still, I could easily envision Dad blindly agreeing to Eric's ramblings; my parents had always held a rather warm regard for him.

"Fruit smoothies, really? Do you not see the gigantic container of pre-workout powder on my desk? It's almost as big as your head! What do you think it's for?"

Eric scowled in response. "It tastes gross, though! And I'm still traumatized from that time you made me dry-scoop it and I nearly choked to death."