The Immortal Beast

Chapter 12

Carnival

"Seraphina! Mason's here!" my mom called from the kitchen, too chipper for this level of catastrophe.

Of course I felt like I might puke.

I took the stairs two at a time and found Mason in the entryway, looking annoyingly casual in light-wash jeans, a pale blue shirt, and his letterman jacket slung over one shoulder. He smiled the kind of smile that makes a girl briefly forget she's done math homework for the rest of her life and also that she's a walking mess of emotional baggage.

"You look amazing, Seraphina," he said like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Thanks, mundane," I replied, because old habits die hard. "You clean up nice, too."

"Aww," my mom cooed from the kitchen, a smile on her face that gave her the look of somewhere between a proud mother and killer psychopath.

"Mom—" I hissed, mortified, as she hurried over and hugged me so tight I could hardly breath.

"Be home no later than eleven-thirty, and have fun," she said, patting my shoulder.

"I will, Mom," I lied (sort of), then grabbed Mason's hand before she could start interrogating him about his intentions, his GPA, and his family had a history. He squeezed my fingers, warm and normal.

"Your mom seems... cool a bit different," Mason said as we walked toward his car.

"She tries to be," I said, and the words landed somewhere between snark and affection. He opened the car door for me like a perfectly scripted rom-com extra and I slid into the passenger seat.

He shut the door and jogged around to the driver's side. The car smelled faintly of new leather and cologne—nothing offensive, just clean. He started the engine and a song I half-recognized from the radio filled the cabin. It was upbeat and stupidly perfect a night of carnival rides.

"So," Mason said, pulling out of the driveway, "what do you want to do first? Ride the Ferris wheel? Win me a stuffed animal I don't need? Eat everything until we can't move?"

"Eat everything until we can't move," I answered without thinking. The image of cotton candy and greasy fries suddenly felt like a lifeline. "And win you? A ridiculous stuffed animal I expect emotional support from it."

He laughed, a real, easy sound that made the edges of whatever tightness I had loosen.
"Deal. I'm warning you, though—I am cursed when it comes to carnival games. You'll probably be the one winning everything."

"I bet I could," I said, leaning back in my seat, a smirk tugging at my lips. "But let's make it interesting. While we're enjoying all aspects of the carnival, let's see who can win the most prizes."

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "A bet, huh? I like it. But what does the winner get?"

"Whatever they want." I shrugged like it was nothing, even though the thought of what Mason might ask for later made my stomach twist in ways I didn't care to analyze.

"Deal," he said, his grin flashing in the dim glow of the dashboard lights.

The rest of the car ride was... surprisingly easy. We talked, filling in the blanks of who we were outside the chaos of school. Mason told me about his family, his voice dipping slightly when he mentioned his younger brother.

"We used to be close," he said, fingers tightening briefly on the steering wheel. "But three years ago... I don't know. Something changed. He started pulling away, keeping secrets. I've tried to keep an eye on him, but it's like talking to a brick wall. Still... he's my brother, so I'll keep trying."