Dusk & Dawn

Chapter 6

The band's performance had been incredible, despite a few minor sound issues that my trained ear couldn't help but notice. My high school days of studying music technology for extra credit, much to the disapproval of my parents, had ingrained in me an instinct to analyze and dissect every sound I heard.

"Thank you, Jim, for keeping me company," I said, offering a warm smile to the jolly man behind the counter who had been a source of comfort throughout the night.

"Anytime, sweet pea," Jim replied, his tired eyes reflecting a genuine kindness as he wiped down the sticky, alcohol-covered surface.

With a quick turn on my stool, I retrieved my phone from my pocket, intending to drown out my thoughts with some music before heading to the car. As I scrolled through my playlist, my eyes caught sight of a familiar face in the crowd—Mason. But he wasn't alone.

To my surprise and disappointment, Mason had his arms draped around the necks of not one, but two girls, parading his overconfidence for all to see.
"Ladies, ladies, there's plenty of me to go around," he declared with a swagger that made my stomach churn. The two girls clung to him, their actions leaving me feeling a mix of second-hand embarrassment and frustration. I couldn't bring myself to look at them, my gaze fixed on my phone screen, a veil of embarrassment shrouding my face.

Why did I let myself entertain thoughts of how his arms would feel around me? It was stupid.

Bitterness welled up inside me, a stark reminder of why I had decided to steer clear of someone like Mason. He was the embodiment of everything I wanted to avoid—a charming facade with a reputation that preceded him.

Shaking off the lingering embarrassment and disappointment, I slipped my phone back into my pocket. I couldn't let a momentary lapse in judgment derail my focus and determination. Mason was nothing more than a distraction, and I had a clear path ahead—a future that I had painstakingly crafted for myself.

Numb by Linkin Park

I scrolled through my playlist, desperately searching for a song to drown out the repulsive verbal foreplay happening between Mason and the girls. Linkin Park's "Numb" seemed fitting, so I cranked up the volume, jamming the wired earbuds into my ears to shut out the cacophony.

Sitting at the bar, I decided to bide my time, waiting for an opportune moment to head to the car and avoid any encounter with Mason. Pulling up my hood and pretending to text someone, I fought to steady my trembling hands. I opened the notepad on my phone, typing a quick reminder to myself, "Night 1. Have seen Mason with 3 girls already today. REMEMBER: Stay Away!"

Just as I finished jotting down my thoughts, my phone betrayed me, its battery plummeting to 5% and then dying completely. Great, just my luck. I hoped that Mason had left by then, sparing me from the need to stifle my gag reflex.

"Sup, Jimmy? You enjoyed the show tonight?" A voice dripping with charm and masculinity broke through the muffled sounds. Cautiously, I turned to face the source, and there he was—Mason, sweaty and rugged, emanating an alluring scent reminiscent of the ocean.

'Had he already ditched the girls? It must be a new world record for him.'

"It was great, buddy. You're getting better. Maybe a label will pick you up soon," Jim beamed with pride, his face radiating genuine warmth. Mason swivelled on his bar stool to face me, his piercing blue eyes locking onto mine, eyebrows raised with a hint of a smile.

I offered a nonchalant shrug.
"It was okay. Could use a little work." A booming laughter erupted from Jim, who slapped his thigh as if I had just delivered the wittiest punchline he had ever heard.

"She's a firecracker, this one, Mase. I like her," Jim chuckled, discarding empty whisky bottles.

Mason continued to stare at me with those captivating eyes, his gaze traveling up and down my figure before he reached out to touch the top of my glove. A smile blossomed from his eyes, spreading to his perfect mouth.

In an instant, I pulled my hand away, flashing a quick, sarcastic smile in mimicry. I had no desire to become one of his groupies tonight, or ever. No matter how mesmerizing his eyes were or how he effortlessly ran his hand through his dark hair, I could spot guys like him from a mile away. I turned my attention to Lexi and Zach, who were consciously avoiding any eye contact with Mason.

Rushing over to Lexi, I tugged on her arm while she engaged in conversation with her Prince Charming.

"Lex, we need to go. I have to start looking for work tomorrow, remember?" I reminded her, even though I had two more months to secure a job and avoid falling behind on tuition. Lexi had envisioned a full-time university experience so she could become a qualified nurse sooner, while I opted for part-time studies to gain valuable work experience. She had it all mapped out.

"I'll nurse the patients' bodies scientifically with medicine, and you'll heal their hearts with music," she used to say.

"I'll meet you at the car," Lexi whispered in my ear, biting her lip.

"I'm just waiting for a kiss," She whispered. I teased her, wiggling my eyebrows up and down, and decided to give her a moment of privacy. With a wave to Jim, I made my way out the door. The autumn air greeted me with a slight chill, a reminder of the season's arrival. Leaning against Lexi's silver Prius, I waited, humming songs to myself, alone with my thoughts in the absence of my dead phone.

Finally, Lexi rescued me from the clutches of boredom, clicking her little remote to unlock the car as she approached.
"I expect a full report on the way home," I declared, pointing at her face, which was plastered with unabashed happiness. I got what I asked for. The entire ride back to the dorms, Lexi gushed about Zach, describing in meticulous detail how he was the best kisser she had ever encountered. She delved into the intricacies of technique, discussing tongue placement and hand movements.

I tried to be open-minded and share in her excitement, but my mind kept replaying the events of the day, relentlessly dissecting each scenario. Should I have told Mason he was a man whore? Should I have slapped him at the bar?

No matter which way I spun it, the common denominator remained—Mason.