Poison of love

Jessica

"Who's writing to you at this hour?" Leyla asks me as she adjusts her blankets. 
"No one," I reply, trying to mask my hesitation. I don't want to talk about Mason with her, especially after her warning: "Stay away from him." And yet, I do exactly the opposite. 
"I saw you smiling. Is it someone you met here at college?" she asks, this time with a more interested tone. 
"Nobody in particular," I reply, avoiding her gaze. She nods, but doesn't press further. 
I think about that afternoon spent with Mason. His gesture of taking me to the cemetery surprised me, but in a positive way. An unusual invitation, sure, but I find it genuine, and that throws me off. I start to see him in a different light, and with that comes the hope that I'm not wrong about him.

The next morning, as always, my mother's message arrives promptly: 
"Good morning, sweetheart. How are you?" Her constant attentions create a small routine that reminds me how little has changed since I left for college. 
"Everything's fine, Mom. I have class in an hour." 
We're only an hour and a half apart, but she remains the same protective mother as always. And, to be honest, sometimes it comforts me. 
Before reaching the classroom, Mason waits for me outside the dorm. 
"What are you doing here?" I ask him, surprised. I didn't expect to see him. 
"Hello to you too!" he exclaims with a smile. 
"Are you following me?" I joke, trying to mask my embarrassment. 
"Did you take me for a stalker?" he responds, laughing. "Have you had breakfast?" 
"Actually, no." 
"Then why don't we go grab something to eat together? Do you have time?" 
"I have class in an hour," I reply, still uncertain. 
"Come on, we'll make it, I promise," he says with a convincing look. I nod, albeit a bit hesitantly. "Alright."
The college cafeteria is packed. Students and professors move frantically, and I feel a bit out of place, especially next to Mason. I notice that many are watching us, and this attention makes me uncomfortable. 
"Is it okay here?" he asks, pointing to a table near the window. 
"Why is everyone looking at us?" I ask, unable to hide my bewilderment. 
"Maybe because you're too beautiful and attract all the attention," he replies with a playful smile and a wink. 
I burst out laughing. 
Despite the lightness of his jokes, there's something deeper starting to creep in between us, a feeling I can't yet define. And I find myself hoping that I'm not wrong about him. 
"What are you getting?" 
"A cappuccino, please," I reply as Mason approaches the counter to order. 
While we wait, a figure approaches us. 
"Mason!" exclaims a beautiful girl with long raven hair and a dress that barely covers her legs. 
"Ana!" he responds, surprised. She looks at him boldly and asks, "Aren't you going to introduce us?" 
"This is Jessica," he says. "Jessica, this is Ana, a friend of mine." Ana glances quickly at me, as if I don't really exist, then turns back to Mason: "You haven't replied to my messages since yesterday. Where have you been?" Her voice has the tone of someone who feels entitled to know everything, like a jealous girlfriend. But Mason seems annoyed: "No where. My phone died yesterday. As you can see, I'm here." 
"For this time, I'll forgive you," Ana replies with a mischievous smirk. "Are you coming over today?" 
"Actually, I have plans," he says, throwing me a glance I can't decipher. 
"Oh really? What do you have to do?" Her question is direct, almost an accusation. 
"Is this an interrogation?" he retorts, visibly irritated. 
"Of course not," she replies, with a fake smile. Then, without warning, she leans in to kiss him on the lips, but Mason dodges just in time. 
"Bye baby," she tells him before leaving. 
I remain silent, incredulous. 
What a rude and intrusive person! I start to think maybe she's the girl Mason was going to visit in the dorm. If that's the case, I don't understand what she's doing here with me. She and I have nothing in common. 
"She can come off as a bit..." he tries to explain. 
"Arrogant?" I interrupt him. 
"No, I meant protective," he replies, trying to diffuse the tension. But I don't like this situation at all, and she acted as if I wasn't even there. 
"What's wrong?" he asks, perhaps sensing my discomfort. 
"She acted as if I wasn't here," I reply, trying to hide my irritation. 
"Listen to me," he says, looking at me seriously. "You don't have to worry about her. I haven't told her anything about you, and maybe that's why she seemed a bit annoyed." 
"You don't have to justify yourself," I retort. "After all, we're just friends." Nothing has happened between us yet, so I don't have the right to judge the people he hangs out with. But his response throws me off: 
"Actually, I'd like to keep seeing you. I like being with you." His look is serious, and for a moment I'm left speechless. The way he looks at me, his eyes, everything confuses me. Maybe I should just tell him I feel the same, but the words seem to get stuck in my throat. 
"This afternoon I have a rugby practice," he continues. "Would you like to come watch me?" 
"I'd love to," I finally respond. "If I can, I'll drop by." 
Breakfast feels like it lasts an eternity, but in a good way. We stay and talk, sharing thoughts about everything and nothing. I don't remember ever talking this much with someone, and the connection that's forming between us is something extraordinary. Despite having known each other for only a few days, it feels like we share a complicity that has existed forever. The way he expresses himself, the sincerity in his eyes, has nothing to do with the image Leyla painted of him.