Boy Trouble GT

Chapter 20

[MASON]

The sun was merciless that afternoon, baking the track and leaving Mason drenched in sweat as he finished another brutal practice. His legs ached, his lungs burned, but his mind wasn't on the pain. It was on the edges of the field, his green eyes scanning for a familiar tall, gangly figure that wasn't there.

Kye.

Mason knew it was stupid, but he still looked for him every day. He knew Kye hated crowds and rarely ventured out unless Mason practically dragged him. He hated the way people stared, the way his size made him stick out even when he tried to disappear into the background. Still, there was always that flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, Kye had decided to come watch.

But the edges of the field were empty, and Mason sighed, tipping back his water bottle as he tried to brush off the faint disappointment curling in his chest.

"Hey, Mason!"

The voice pulled him from his thoughts, and he turned to see a few of his teammates jogging over. Caleb and Jarrad, both human-sized like him, were grinning as they approached. Caleb's wiry frame was still buzzing with leftover energy from practice, while Jarrad's bulkier build seemed to radiate smugness as he clapped Mason on the shoulder.

"Good practice today, man," Jarrad said, his grin widening. "You're always killing it out there."

Mason shrugged, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm. "Thanks," he said, his tone distracted as he glanced toward the edge of the field again.

Caleb followed his gaze, his sharp grin turning curious. "What are you looking for?"

"Nothing," Mason replied quickly, shifting his weight as he adjusted his gear.

Caleb snorted, crossing his arms. "You're not waiting for your roommate, are you? Kye, right?"

The sound of Kye's name made Mason pause. He turned back to his teammates, his green eyes narrowing slightly. "Yeah. What about him?"

Jarrad laughed, shaking his head. "Man, that guy's a total weirdo. You've got to admit it."

Mason's brows furrowed, irritation prickling at the edges of his mind. "He's not a weirdo," he said evenly.

"Come on," Caleb said, his grin turning into something sharper, something meaner. "He barely talks to anyone. Always skulking around, looking like he's about to burst into flames if he steps into the sun. Dude's like a vampire."

"Yeah," Jarrad added, chuckling. "You'd think someone that tall would be, like, intimidating or cool, but he's just... I don't know, awkward as hell. Like, what's his deal? Does he ever even leave your dorm, or does he just sit in his room all day?"

Mason's jaw tightened, the irritation in his chest sparking into something hotter. "What's your problem?" he asked, his voice sharper now.

Caleb raised his hands in mock surrender, his grin unfaltering. "Relax, man. I'm just saying. The guy's kind of... off, you know? Like, why do you even hang out with him? You're, like, the most social guy on campus, and he's... well, not."

"He's not some project, right?" Jarrad chimed in, smirking. "I mean, if you're trying to fix him, good luck. Dude's hopeless."

Mason felt his grip on his water bottle tighten, his knuckles whitening as he resisted the urge to snap back immediately. Instead, he took a deep breath, his green eyes narrowing as he stared at his teammates.

"You don't know him," Mason said, his voice low but firm. "So maybe don't act like you do."

Jarrad's smirk faltered, and Caleb's grin turned uncertain, but they didn't back off completely. "We're just saying—" Caleb started, but Mason cut him off.

"You're just saying a bunch of shit you don't understand," Mason snapped, his tone hard now. "Kye's not weird. He's quiet, sure, but that doesn't give you the right to talk about him like that."

The two exchanged uneasy glances, but Mason wasn't done.

"You don't know what he's been through. You don't know what it's like to be him. So maybe instead of running your mouths, you could, I don't know, mind your own business."

The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the distant sound of another runner's footsteps on the track. Caleb rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish, while Jarrad muttered something that sounded vaguely like an apology.

"Yeah, okay," Caleb said finally, his tone quieter now. "We didn't mean anything by it. Chill."

Mason didn't respond. He just slung his bag over his shoulder, his jaw still tight as he walked away from the field.

As Mason left, his thoughts were a tangle of frustration and guilt. He hated the way people talked about Kye, hated the way they reduced him to nothing more than his awkwardness and his size. Kye wasn't perfect—he could be stubborn, moody, and withdrawn—but he was more than what they saw.

And the thing that frustrated Mason the most was that Kye probably knew. He probably felt the judgment every time he stepped outside, every time someone glanced up at his towering frame and saw only what they wanted to see.

Mason sighed, running a hand through his damp curls as he made his way back to the dorm. He didn't know if Kye would care about what Caleb and Jarrad had said—Kye was good at pretending things didn't bother him. But Mason cared.

He cared more than he wanted to admit.