Poison of love

Mason

My awakening today is marked by fatigue and discomfort, aided by the hangover from the previous night and Ana clinging to me, almost suffocating me. Last night was heavy, tormented. Pushing Jessica away was the most logical decision, the right one, especially for me. Yet, every time I'm near her, something inside me shakes, like a lightning bolt tearing through a clear sky. I feel a fear I haven't experienced in years, since the last time I lost someone important. It's not the childhood fear of the dark that I remember from when I was a child, but a deeper, more painful fear of losing someone who truly matters.
My mother's death marked me irreversibly. From that moment on, I stopped feeling. I lived for years without emotions, with an emptiness inside that slowly devoured me, a dense darkness that seemed endless. It was like a tunnel with no exit, and in that darkness, I had taken refuge, swearing to myself that I would never again allow anything or anyone to reignite the light I had extinguished.

This morning, the desire to attend class is nonexistent. William has already left, as always, and I find myself running late once again. I have neither the time nor the desire to have breakfast, so I quickly grab a pastry from Will's drawer. At lunchtime, I meet him for a quick meal before practice, even though my motivation is at an all-time low. My mind is crowded, fogged by too many thoughts, and Jessica's face is a constant, obsessive image. I need to let her go; I need to return to my life, but it feels like an impossible task.
After practice, I return to my apartment, but before meeting Charlie, my driver, I decide to take a walk through the courtyard. That's where I see her. Jessica, with her bright smile and sparkling eyes, looks almost unattainable, as always. It's a sight that takes my breath away. But she isn't alone. Next to her is a guy I've never seen before, clearly an outsider to the campus. I feel frozen, a knot in my stomach tightening painfully. That smile, the same one she gives me when I look at her on the rugby field, is reserved for someone else. It burns inside me, and without thinking, I walk over.
"Jess!" I exclaim, unable to hold back. She turns, surprised. "Mason! What are you doing here?"
"I'm also attending college, like you. Did you forget?" I respond in a forced light tone. She sighs. "That's not what I meant."
My heart races, my hands tremble as I feel the urgency to talk to her grow. "I need to talk to you."
"What about?" she asks, uncertain, perhaps sensing my tension.
"In private." The desire to know who that guy is consumes me, but I force myself to hold back.
Jessica turns to him. "Sorry, I'll be just a minute," she says with a smile, then comes closer to me but keeps a certain distance. "What's it about?"
"I wanted to apologize for how I behaved... I want to keep seeing you." The words come out quickly, without filters.
She looks at me, incredulous. "Are you joking? First, you push me away, then you come back? What game are you playing, Mason?"
I shake my head, feeling like an idiot. "It's not a game. I'm asking for another chance."
"I really don't know what to think," she replies with a hint of bitterness. Her anger is palpable, and I know I can't blame her. It's not easy to keep up with me; I understand that.
"Please, Jess..." I insist, feeling like I'm losing her.
She hesitates, but in the end, she shakes her head. "I'll think about it. But right now, I have to go." Her words are cold, detached. She turns and walks away, leaving me standing there, motionless. No girl has ever had the courage to challenge me like this, and deep down, I know she's different. If I truly want to win her over, I'll have to put in the effort; I'll have to show her who I really am. And I'm willing to do whatever it takes to help her understand the real Mason, the one she, perhaps, could still see.
Back home, I try to clear my mind in the shower, but the image of her with that other guy haunts me. They were laughing together, so in sync, as if they were perfect. Who the hell is he? Why did they seem so in tune? And why do I feel this burning anger, this jealousy for someone who isn't even mine? I feel out of control, like I'm losing my mind. I can't go on like this. The only way to free myself from this torment is to ask her directly.

The next day, I gather my courage and head to her room. Knocking on her door feels like a huge challenge, but I do it anyway. However, when the door opens, it's not Jessica who greets me, but Leyla. I ask her where Jessica is, and she casually replies that she's in the library.
"Wait, Mason! Jess is a good girl; don't be a jerk to her," Leyla warns me, stopping me before I can leave.
"That's exactly what I don't want to do," I reply, surprised by her statement.
In the library, I immediately start searching for Jessica in the usual corner by the window, but I can't find her. I pace through the aisles, agitated, looking for Jess like a madman, until I finally bump into her as I'm exiting. We collide, and the books fall from her hands.
"Jess! Sorry, are you okay?" I offer her my hand to help her up, feeling my heart race.
"No, sorry, it's my fault; I didn't see you," she replies, taking my hand.
"I was looking for you," I tell her, looking into her eyes.
"You found me," she replies, crossing her arms. Her gaze is intense, and for a moment, I feel unable to speak.
"I need to ask you something." I pause, feeling my anxiety grow.
"Tell me," she responds, waiting as I struggle with my words.
"Who was that guy you were with yesterday?" The question slips out more abruptly than I'd like.
She smiles, almost amused. "Are you jealous?"
"No," I lie, "just curious. I've never seen him before." I try to keep my tone neutral, but jealousy boils inside me.
"His name is Josh; he's my best friend. He doesn't go to college." 'Best friend?' That doesn't convince me at all. The way he looked at her was not that of a simple friend. "So, there's nothing between you two?" I insist, unable to hold back.
"I already told you; we're just friends. You're acting strange today," she observes, scrutinizing me.
I change the subject, trying to regain control. "Have you thought about what I told you yesterday?"
"It hasn't even been a day! You're impatient, Mason," she exclaims, a bit irritated. I slowly step closer, our faces just a few centimeters apart. Her vanilla scent intoxicates me, her green eyes hypnotize me, and the desire to kiss her becomes unbearable. The world around us seems to freeze; we're a step away from kissing when...
"There you are! I found you," Leyla says, appearing at that moment.
"What are you talking about?" Jess asks, surprised.
"Perfect timing, Leyla," I comment, exasperated.
"Sorry, did I interrupt something?" she asks, giving a mischievous smile.
"No, Mason was just leaving," Jess replies, stepping back a few paces.
"No, that's not true." I lock my eyes on hers, determined. "Actually, I wanted to ask you out."
"A date! What a wonderful idea!" Leyla exclaims, interrupting again. Jess looks annoyed.
"What? There's no date," she replies.
"I'd like to take you out for a walk around the city. What do you say?" The words come out with a mix of hope and fear. I want to spend time with her, joke around, laugh, get to know her better. Jess stares at me for a moment, then smiles.
"I'll accept, but only on one condition: I get to choose where to go."
"Okay," I reply immediately. It doesn't matter where; I just want to be with her. My heart races at the thought that this could be my chance, my first real outing.

That evening, as I head home, my phone rings: it's my father. Every call from him is always about some mistake I've made or work issues. Never once to see how I'm doing. Our relationship has been reduced to a formal and distant bond, increasingly unreachable. I remember when, as a child, we spent the holidays together, the only times he could break away from work to dedicate to us. But after my mother's death, everything changed. My father closed himself off, and the father figure for me became Charlie, our driver. Charlie has always been there since my birth. Every time I needed someone, he was there. All the moments I should have shared with my father were lived with him. My father, on the other hand, only sent me money for school and my needs, but he was never really there for me. He became a father in name only.
"Hi, son," he greets me. 
"Father, what have I done this time?" I reply, my tone weary. 
"Every time I call you, you ask me that," he retorts. 
"Because you usually call just to reprimand me," I reply, knowing the script. 
"Listen, it's about a work conference on Saturday night. I'd like you to be there too," he says, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. 
"What does that have to do with me?" I ask, already exasperated. 
"You'll find out. Buy a suit and be punctual. I'll send you the details shortly." 
I take a deep breath and hang up. Charlie notices my mood. 
"Everything alright, Mr. Scott?" he asks, stopping the car in front of the house. 
"As usual, he only calls for work," I reply, looking out the window, hoping that for once I would be treated like a son and not like an employee. 
"Mr. Scott is very busy, but he cares about you," Charlie tries to console me. 
"Yeah, sure... he only thinks about work." I get out of the car, wave goodbye, and head toward the front door. Everyone thinks that someone with money like mine leads a perfect life, but it has never been that way for me. Money can't buy what I truly lack: the love of a mother and father. 

After a shower to relax, I hear the doorbell ring. I go downstairs in my bathrobe, and when I open the door, I find Ana. 
"What are you doing here?" I ask, surprised. 
"I was expecting a better welcome," she exclaims, wrapping herself in leather leggings and a red shirt that accentuates her provocative figure. 
"I wasn't expecting visitors," I reply, trying to remain calm. 
"Aren't you happy to see me? I missed you," she whispers, seductively moving closer, her arms around my neck. 
"I'm not in the mood, Ana," I respond curtly. 
"What's wrong? You've been distant for days. It's because of that girl, isn't it? Since she's come into your life, you've changed," she says, her tone hurt. We had always been clear: just sex, nothing more. 
"Her name is Jess," I retort, visibly annoyed. 
"I can't believe it. That bitch has brainwashed you," she snaps, furious. 
"Watch how you talk," I say coldly, feeling my anger rising. 
"I don't believe you've lost interest in me. I'm still crazy about you," she continues, pointing to the couch. 
"Leave, Ana," I tell her, tired of these provocations. 
"You'll come back to me," she whispers as she slams the door behind her, leaving. 
I'm shocked by her behavior, but I don't let myself be distracted. My only thought is Jess. 
I want to see her again, smell her scent, lose myself in her eyes. She is the only beautiful thing that has happened to me since my mother died. With her, I feel different, able to experience emotions I thought had long been extinguished. 
After tidying up the house and having breakfast, I muster up the courage to text her: 
"Hey Barbie, are we meeting today?" 
Shortly after, my phone vibrates. 
It's Jess: "See you at 5 at the dorm." 
My heart skips a beat. Suddenly, I feel full of energy.