The Renovation Complication

20. The Gutter Called Reality

"Hurry up, Macey Mouse, I need to get to work." I groan, even though I am not doing any labour whatsoever. Mason and Adam are carting my new bed frame onto the porch from the delivery truck. The workers actually getting paid to do this aren't much help at all, sadly.

Adam forces a laugh, "Tori, you're not even doing anything, need I remind you."

Mason glares at me incredulously, a thin sheen of sweat gathering on his forehead as the boys work the furniture down the hallway. "Why can't you just go to work?"

I place my hands on my hips, "I'm not going to allow you two to step anywhere in my room without supervision."

"Yeah, and I need to go too. I've got brunch with the council president." Adam huffs. Mason pokes his head from behind the white frame to animatedly roll his eyes at me. I'm actually surprised that Adam would even volunteer to help with this small task, given his agenda. Usually it would be Alex forced into it, seen as he's usually just laying around in his room anyway.

I don't even know where he is. And every time I've tried to ask him about his detached behaviour lately, he gives me a glare paired with silence. I mean, he isn't winning any awards for World's Best Brother, but I honestly thought we were getting near to speaking terms.

I thought wrong.

After about five minutes, the sweaty lumps have delivered the final piece of furniture around the house, only the bed actually going to my room (which, unfortunately for them, is up the stairs). All of the rest of the items have been scattered around the living room, as I'm only halfway through repainting my room.

Yeah... it's been a slow week, okay?

The weekend has already arrived and I'm almost late for stacking books and shushing people. Gotta love the library.

Adam bids his goodbye, running upstairs to shower at lightning speed. He's got a very busy schedule. Mason slumps his exhausted figure on the couch while I cross my arms and tap my foot, feigning impatience. "Get out, I gotta go."

He flicks his head at me, irritation flashing through his features for just a second before a lazy expression settles on his face. He rests his hands behind his head, flexing his muscles in the process.

Jesus.

I have to look away to stop from gawking, and my cheeks instantly burn pink.

"You work at the library, right?"

I'm dumbfounded for a moment before I realise that the punk's seen me there before. Ugh, I want to cringe at the memory of how we first met.

Well... when I first saw him, at least.

That was just short of a disaster and I'm praying on my literature essay that he doesn't remember it the way I do. Or bring it up, at least.

I nod at him and he bursts out laughing. The sound is loud and deep, mellifluous as a melody.

A melody of anger.

I roll my eyes at his display, knowing that he's taking such joy in my embarrassment. Jerk. Despite my composure, heat creeps up my neck. He points at me, wheezing with tears in his eyes. His face is almost as red as mine.

"I so haven't f-f-for-g-gotten." He barks hoarsely, wiping his eyes. I scowl at him until he starts breathing like an ordinary human being.

"Why were you nice to me?" I ask suddenly and he looks as if I've slapped him.

"What?"

"When you first met me, why were you so nice to me?" It's a genuine question. My mind flashes back to the kind, crystal eyed boy that saved me from drowning in the pool on the first day of school. It's so hard to believe that the guy that controlled his temper so well when I walked into and then insulted him, is the same arrogant, rude, hot tempered child staring at me with wide eyes now.

There's silence as he opens his mouth to speak before closing it a few times, seriously considering his answer. His eyes wander for a moment as he decides how to answer.

"Well?" My eyebrows furrow at his silence. Since when doesn't Mason Donovan have an insult to hurtle at me?

Blue bulbs snap to attention and he shrugs, shaking his head slowly as if it were obvious. "I thought you were hot."

My eyelids form slits as I comprehend the mindless letters tumbling from his mouth. "Excuse me?"

He shrugs defensively, as if thrown by my reaction. What is wrong with the male population?

"And at school? The pool, in the hall?" I demand, temper rising by the second. How can he possibly be so dumbly arrogant, clueless, insensitive –

"I wanted to play hero." He explains as if I was five years old, "Chicks dig the whole charming act. I later found out that you were a psychopath." He raises one eyebrow in mockery. "So I gave it up."

I hate that he's right. When I first met him, I was completely and utterly cast under his manipulative little spell.

But that last part? Pffft, I am so not a psychopath. All I want right now is to ring out his neck and bathe in his blood, does that sound like something a psychopath would want to do?

And here I was hoping there was some good in my next door neighbour.

"You're disgusting." I grin, not at all amused. With that I spin around and walk out, ignoring Mason's pleas for me to come back and get over it. Ugh, I hate boys. Right when I was thinking that there was some good in the world, Mr Donovan comes in and throws me into the gutter called reality.

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Sorry about the short chapter, but I split it up and wanted to update. Thank you all for reading and what do you think of Mason now?

There's Mason up the top going "Excuse me?" XD