nerd.

trente-quatre

Dedicated to @mollyjolly, bc like you're fabulous ily

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Arielle Evans

Things have been looking up since the court trial, that's for sure. My father is going to be home until the end of the month, which is unfortunately coming up in a few days. Harry and Mason are getting along pretty well, I suppose. At least they aren't attacking each other the second they see each other. One of them is with me at all times, even though I told them multiple times that they have nothing to worry about.

Right now, Mason is "on duty", as they phrased it, and we are just hanging out in my room.

"I'm bored." I say randomly, and Mason chuckles, fiddling with his fingers.

"There's not much we can do without Harry getting his boxers in a twist and coming after us." Mason reasons, and I laugh. I stiffen when he reaches over and tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. He realizes what he has done and he pulls back, his face flushing a deep red. "I'm sorry, it was just instinct, and I..."

"Mason, it's fine." I cut him off. He looks down at the bed sheets, still embarrassed. I grab his hand and squeeze it gently, and he looks up at me, surprise pooling his chocolate brown eyes. "It. Is. Okay." I repeat, and he chuckles. He glances around the room until his eyes land on something, and he shoots up from the bed. "What are you looking for?" I ask. He walks into the closet, and I jump up from the bed, running in to stop him.

"I didn't know you play." He holds the guitar case above my head in victory, smirking.

"I don't." I lie, jumping up to grab the case. He pushes it even higher into the air, away from my reach, and I pout, shoving his chest. He laughs and shakes his head, bringing the guitar down and clutching it like his life depends on it.

"Play for me." he smiles, deepening his dimple.

"No way. I suck at it." I shake my head, giving up on trying to get it from him.

"Please?" he begs, pouting at me. I look away; his pout is absolutely adorable, although it kills me to admit it.

"Alright, fine." I huff, and he finally gives me the guitar case. I pull the guitar out of it and sit down, placing it on my lap and running my hands over the familiar cold wood. I start to strum the tune to "A Team" by Ed Sheeran, and Mason smiles.

I can't help myself. I start to sing.

White lips, pale face

Breathing in the snowflakes

Burnt lungs, sour taste

Light's gone, day's end

Struggling to pay rent

Long nights, strange men

As I am about to head into the main line, Mason surprises me by starting to sing along with me.

And they say

She's in the class A team,

Stuck in her daydream, been this way since eighteen,

But lately, her face seems slowly sinking, wasting,

Crumbling like pastries

And they scream

The worst things in life come free to us

'Cause we're just under the upper hand...

Mason doesn't break eye contact with me as we finish the rest of the song, our voices harmonizing in the once quiet air.

"Your voice...is absolutely amazing." I sputter when we have finished. "I didn't know you sang."

"I could say the same about you." he chuckles.

"You should consider singing professionally, Mason." I shake my head in disbelief.

"Only if you'd sing with me." he wiggles his eyebrows, and I giggle lightly. "Does Harry sing?"

"Yea, I guess." I shrug. "Why?"

"No reason." he quickly dismisses the topic and begins to pluck at some of the strings on the guitar.

"No really, why?" I ask again, and he grips the guitar uncomfortably, shifting to face me.

"You really want to know? " he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Yea." I reply easily.

"I think that I am a lot better for you than Harry, personally. I don't think he has the qualities that I have, and I was asking because I wanted proof that I was better than him." Mason states smugly.

"And you think that singing makes you better than Harry?" I snort.

"Yes, in fact." he smiles cheekily.

"News flash. You're not better than him, and you never will be." I snap, and the brick of guilt that once sat in my stomach forms once more. His face falls, and I fight the urge to reach over and comfort him. "You were a total jerk to me, Mason. You're lucky I agreed for us to be friends again." I continue, and Mason's expression changes from confusion to pure hurt.

"Well, I'm sorry I'm not good enough for you then." he says, and his voice cracks at the end, warning me that he is about to cry. He stands from the bed and swings the door open, running down the stairs and out the door.

"Wait," I whisper, although I know there is no chance of him hearing me. "I'm sorry."

*

Mason

You're not better than him, and you never will be. You're not better than him, and you never will be. You're not better than him, and you never will be. Arielle's words keep echoing through my mind as I run. I thought that taking a nice, long jog would clear my mind, but it did just the opposite. Instead, I keep thinking about what Arielle said earlier. I feel a tear slip down my cheek, and I immediately brush it away on instinct. Be a man, Richards!, my subconscious yells. I roll my eyes and sprint even faster.

A familiar guy bumps into me, and just as I am about to apologize, I shut my mouth.

"Richards." Harry huffs, out of breath. "Why the hell aren't you with Arielle?" he pauses before laughing quietly. "Hey, that rhymed."

I roll my eyes in annoyance before responding. "We kind of got into a fight." I say meekly, a tad afraid of his response.

"What the hell did you do?" he asks, pinning me against a brick wall.

"Relax, buddy." I wrinkle my nose, shoving him off of me. "She blew up on me about how I'm not good enough for her and crap like that."

"That's not crap." Harry laughs.

"Yeah, it is. It's not the truth, Harry." I say angrily, fighting the urge to just deck his jaw right here. I stop even thinking about it when I realize Arielle would probably murder me if I did.

"Well, Mason." Harry pauses, brushing a few curls out of his eyes. "The truth hurts."