Leap of Faith

Chapter Fourteen

Mason

Sunday was the worst day of the week.

I know everyone hates Mondays, but Sunday is such a let down. Sunday is the doorway to reality, the wingman of Monday.

Getting out of bed was difficult, knowing that I had homework due and class the next day. As I lay motionless beneath my sheets, I thought about Becca. It had been a week since the day she told me her father was dead, and I could feel myself falling more and more in love with her.

She was honest, not brutally so, but admirably enough. She was beautiful, and brave, and kind to those who deserved it. I thought back to Wednesday after school, when she called me to say her mother had just returned from a date and that Becca didn't want to speak to her. She sounded so vulnerable, so feable, that I wanted to protect her. I wanted to keep herself from the world, and from herself.

We had hung out all week - doing homework, well attempting to, at least, and wandering around town.

I liked to think of us as just that - wanderers. We didn't need to belong in any one place, didn't need to be defined by our surroundings. We were who we were and that was enough of a definition.

Rebecca

"Oh my God!" I shrieked as Mason tackled me down onto the bed. His laughter echoed in my ears as I struggled against him, his fingers tickling my sides. He had called an hour ago saying he was coming over, but I had lost track of time and nearly had a full blown heart attack when he sprung through my bedroom door.

He managed to pin me down and I tried to knee him in the gut, eventually resorting to thrashing around violently. He chuckled, holding my arms above my head. Cocky bastard.

"Mason..." I grumbled, sighing as I looked up at him. He suddenly seemed to realize the compromising position he had put us in, and his eyes went deep, deep brown.

"Is your brother home?" I shook my head, my breath coming out in short bursts. It had been two weeks, and being around Mason still got me all... hyped up.

He brought his mouth down on mine, sending us into a passionate and frenzied lip lock. My fingers grabbed onto his hair, dragging him closer, and the bed shook as he rolled me on top of him. I straddled his hips and held his head to mine, our lips melding together.

My hands slipped under his shirt, sliding up the smooth planes of his chest as he groaned beneath me. The sound vibrated through my body. He sat up, yanking the shirt up over his head and then quickly rolled me back under him. His hands gripped my thighs, manually wrapping my legs around his hips. We both moaned loudly.

His lips followed the line of my jaw, down my neck, over my collarbone, finally leaving a trail of hot open mouth kisses along the scoop neck of my shirt. I shivered with want.

Wary as I was, being with Mason on this physical level made me forget. Forget my fears, my imperfections, and the reasons why this would end poorly. But, I figured, I was done hurting myself so badly. Even if this did end badly, maybe that was what life was about. Taking chances.

"Mason," I gasped when he bit down, ever so lightly, on the swell on my breast. I gripped his hair tightly in my fists. He let out a bittersweet chuckle against my skin, and sat up panting with a pained smile on his face.

"You have no idea how badly I want to take you right now," he whispered, his eyes closed, "but right now isn't the time. Or the place. I think we should wait." I sat up on my elbows and watched him, his chest bare, the top button of his jeans undone. He looked hotter than the sun, to put it simply.

I tugged my shirt down from where it was bunched up below my bra, suddenly self conscious. He frowned.

"Don't hide from me," he said, gently, sliding his hand up my stomach, dragging the shirt with him. "You can trust me, Bex. I promise." He kissed me softly on the mouth, a long, dragging kiss, that left me breathless.

I knew I could trust him. That was never the issue. I didn't know if I could trust myself. I didn't know if I could trust myself not to fall in love with him.

Maybe it was already too late.


Mason

I needed a cold shower. Seriously. My head (and other body parts) were throbbing with the ache to make love to her right that instant, but I somehow restrained myself. Yes, I believed Becca deserved a lot better than a quickie in the room she grew up in before her brother got home, but my reasons were mostly selfish.

The farther we went, the more attached I got, and the harder it would be to leave. I knew it was going to happen. I knew we were going to leave eventually. My Dad never stayed in one place too long, saying it got too bland, and whereever my Dad went, so did Mom.

I wanted her. Not just physically, though. I wanted this girl in my life for a long time, maybe even forever. I couldn't imagine my future without her.

"Lets go get dinner," I said, and she nodded, her face flushed. Man, I really needed a cold shower.

I clambered off her bed and searched for my shirt, but not before she pressed her mouth to mine, backing me up against her door. Her lips moved against mine, and I was moments away from ripping her clothes to shreds. I held her hips tight against mine, and I knew the hard bulge in my pants was up against her stomach. Ahhh, I needed to stop. I gently pushed her back and stepped away, running a hand over my face.

I put my shirt back on in two seconds tops, and was out of her room as soon as possible. She lead me down the hall to the front door, the gently sway of her hips was mesmerizing as I trailed behind her.

She locked the door behind us, and we walked to my car, the silence between us insurmountable.

"Bex-" I started, and she shook her head.

"Just leave it Mason. We're both thinking different things, its best not to dwell on it." I nodded, and then laced my fingers through hers when we got into the car.

"You're beautiful," I whispered to her, nuzzling the spot behind her ear. She sighed, quietly, and I knew there was something she wasn't telling me. I kissed her once, softly, and then pulled onto the road.

I drove to Giuseppi's, the nearest pizza place, and we ordered a medium cheese pizza, waiting with bated breath for the pizza to come. The tension between us deepened, and I suddenly hated this, this uncomfortablness that was no ones fault but our own.

Then, I felt her foot, sliding up the side of my calf, and I saw the mischievious smirk on her face. It was adorable. I caught her ankle in my hand and she looked startled as I raised it higher, placing it on my thigh, just left of where I really wanted it. I smirked at her. She sucked in a breath.

"Do you like this town?" she asked suddenly, and I shrugged, really not knowing. Over the years the moving became less about where I was going, and more about how long I would stay there.

"I don't know. Not anymore than I liked Trenton, or Chicago, or Richmond." She cocked an eyebrow at me. "Well, I mean, it's great because you're here. But otherwise, pretty average."

"How many times have you moved exactly?"

"23." I said, the number was constantly lingering on the top of my head, haunting me. Taunting me.

"What was your favorite place?"

"Here." The answer was instantaneous.

And she was the reason why.