Going All The Way With Mason Blake

Mason Blake: Chapter 1

~Alex~

  Mason Blake is special.

                Maybe that’s why he didn’t confess his undying love for me or run away terrified like I’m sure anyone else would have done in his position- or at least some variation of that.

                Instead Mason stood there his expression slowly turning back to normal; his hair blowing slightly in the breeze.

                “Why?” he asks the single word leaving his mouth with uncertainty.

                I let out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding.

Now this is one of the things I do like about Mason- he always lets me explain.

Would you be surprised if I told you that this isn’t the first time I’ve asked Mason something this outrageous?

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                It’s hard to tell where the beginning really starts; at least the begging that lead me to learn what I know now and not exactly the beginning to this whole situation. Anyways, I think the beginning to everything started when I was eight years old. My family and I had recently moved to upstate New York and a few hours later, on a windy winter day with dry rustling leaves whooshing everywhere, there was a nine year old boy with the widest smile I’d ever seen on my doorstep. He had an apple pie, with a chunk missing I might add, in his arms and some suspicious crumbs on the corners of his mouth.

                I immediately fell in love- not that it lasted too long, but it’s true I, Alex Bannon, set eyes on a nine year old Mason Blake and fell in love. At eight years old I thought Mason was the cutest thing to walk the earth and yes even cuter than puppies. Personally, I think I’ll always think blonde haired, slim, shining hazel eyed little Mason will always be cuter than Mason now- but that’s not what this story is about.

                Anyways, there was Mason staring at me like I was the best thing since sliced bread and then he opened his mouth and ruined it. Still, my little naïve heart persisted, and my infatuation over him ended a lot later than the moment he opened his mouth (even as a little boy Mason Blake was as obnoxiously smart as can be).

                The moment I really did get over Mason was four months later at my ninth birthday. My parents, at that moment still preoccupied with their child, had thrown me a nice birthday party- their only mistake, of course not at that time, had been to invite Mason. Everything was fine; we ran, screamed, fought, I fawned over him, and then the birthday cake was brought out.

                It was pretty in pink with huge yellow letters that said, “Happy Birthday Teddy Bear,” (let’s just say my parents were bad at giving out nicknames).  I hate pink. Hate it now, hated it then, will hate it until the world ends- Mason knew that.

                So the next thing I know my face was smashed into the cake. Never in my life will I get the sensation of butter cream frosting shoved up my nose out of my head.