Lemonade (WLGYL #2)

Chapter 3-Past

The first year of my relationship with Mason was perfect, everything I had hoped it would be and more. He took me to my prom, and we told each other all of our secrets and fears—my worry over AP classes, Mason being scared he wouldn't make friends. His roommate and friends joined fraternities, while Mason wanted to focus on school for the first year; he had told me he felt left out.

Once I became a senior in high school, I had a new worry: college. My absolute number one school was USC in Los Angeles. I wanted to major in journalism, with a minor in some art or photography. At first, Mason was very supportive and our relationship was as it always had been. A few months later, though, he started pulling away, even if I hadn't noticed it happening.

I knew he had been having trouble at school, with still getting used to classes, frats, and a social life balance. His sophomore year, he finally rushed a fraternity himself and, although he didn't tell me all the details, I could tell the hazing bothered him; he also got into a different frat than his friends, still making him feel left out. I chalked up his weirdness to that, and he led me to believe that was all that was wrong in his life; that I wasn't the cause of any of his problems, his negative thoughts. So, I didn't think it had anything to do with me.

And when he wanted to hang out in April, weeks before my senior prom and a month before graduation, I didn't think anything of it. It was just another date with Mason. We went to dinner, a little Italian place in the downtown area by where we lived, at a table outside under the string lights. It seemed perfect.

He drove me home, pulled into my driveway, and kissed me goodnight. When I turned to leave his car, he grabbed my hand, hesitating, his eyes heavy on mine in the dark of the car. "Can I come in for a second?"

I raised my eyebrow, but nodded. My parents were at a family party I hadn't wanted to go to, and they wouldn't be home for a while. I knew they wouldn't appreciate walking in to see Mason and me alone in the house, but I would make sure he was long gone before they returned. Besides, we could use the alone time.

Inside, I turned on the lights in the kitchen and leaned against the counter.

Mason sat on a barstool, resting his chin in his hands. "It's going to be harder when you're in college too, isn't it," he said, more as a statement than anything. "I'm going to miss you so much."

I smiled and grabbed his hand resting on the countertop. "Well, yeah, but it'll be like the past two years since I'll be close by—"

"Close by?" Mason interrupted, his lips twitching up at the corners. "I wouldn't call California close."

Here it was, the secret I had been keeping from him that I was excited to finally share. "I'm not going there anymore," I said casually, shrugging.

Mason's eyes widened. "What do you mean?"

I had made my decision recently. It wasn't official or anything; I hadn't talked to the schools yet, but I knew it was what I now wanted to do. Caleb had actually given me the idea, although I was sure he didn't realize it. "I'm going to go to community college here for two years. That way I'll be closer to you, and then when you graduate and I finish my associate's degree, I can transfer to USC and you can come to LA with me. We've always talked about California."

At that, Mason shot up off the barstool, his hair disheveled from the constant amount of times his fingers ran through it, something he did when he was nervous. "Well, yeah," Mason sputtered. "We've mentioned it, but you love that school. You wouldn't stop talking about it after you and your mom visited, and you got a scholarship for God's sake. You'd be crazy to pass that up."

Mason was right. After Mom and I had visited USC in October, it was all I could think about for months: the red cobblestone streets, matching Romanesque buildings, even the dorms and University-sanctioned apartments seemed glamorous. I did love USC, but I loved Mason too. I thought he would be happy I wanted to be closer to him. "And I'll enjoy it all the same in two years," I said, my voice losing its energy. "Is there something wrong with community college?"

Looking incredulous, Mason said, "No, of course not. Caleb goes there and it's a great way to save money, but you got a scholarship and financial aid." He sighed. "And you love it there," he said again.

"And I love you. Besides, didn't you do the same thing when you passed up that school in San Diego for Wisconsin? A two hour drive is much shorter than a four hour flight."

"That was different and you know it," Mason said sharply. We were standing face to face in the kitchen, a couple of feet apart. For some reason, standing made the argument feel more real. "We weren't together when I made that decision. I didn't do it for you, even if that was an added bonus. I did it because it made sense, because I didn't want my parents to stress out about money. I didn't get a scholarship, remember?"

Part of me knew he was telling the truth, but part of me also thought he was still being hypocritical. I wanted to do this for the future of our relationship. Our future. Two hours of distance was hard enough, but being across the country from each other? That sounded like a relationship death sentence. "You can't decide what I do with my life." Not when I didn't even know for sure what I wanted to do with it.

"Emma," Mason pleaded. "Don't do this. Please. This school is a great opportunity for you. You have to go there. It's all you've talked about."

"And it's my life," I snapped before shutting my lips together. I had never snapped at Mason before. Hell, we had rarely ever fought before. Sure, we bickered and bantered like we always had, but never anything like this.

"It's college. You should be somewhere that makes you happy. I want you to find out who you are without me; experience new things."

"You can't make that decision for me. It's not for you to decide."

Mason took a deep breath. "Fine," he said, his hands shaking. But his hands weren't bothering me. It was his eyes; he still looked at me like he always had: like he was in love with me, like he would give me the world if I had just asked. "If you go to school here, to be closer to me, then it'll be pointless."

"Why?" I asked, my voice raising an octave as I took a step closer, as if trying to block him from walking away, from saying what he was about to say.

He wouldn't even look at me when he muttered, "It'll be pointless because I'm not your boyfriend anymore. I'm breaking up with you."

I felt the breath whoosh out of me, my chest aching, physically aching. Never had I ever thought this would be his response to my surprise, to what I wanted to do for our relationship. I didn't say anything.

Mason's eyes were full of regret, but he held his ground. "It's for the best. I'm not going to hold you back. You deserve better," he said softly, before turning on his heel and walking out the door as if trying to leave before he changed his mind.

"Remember when we first broke up?" I shouted at his receding figure. Our breakup after our first stint as a couple in secret, when I also told him I didn't want to hold him back as he left for college. He told me that wouldn't happen. "That was my reasoning too. I was wrong. Remember how you felt then?" I was trying anything, anything, to get him to stay. Please don't leave me.

Just before he stepped over the threshold, he stopped, pausing at my words. But he didn't turn around. He didn't say anything else as he kept walking, shutting the door behind him.

I couldn't help but bitterly think that it was only fitting; I had broken up with him the first time my sophomore year, and now it was his turn to do the dumping.

The thing that made me the most angry was that I could tell he still loved me; I could see it in his eyes, hear it in his words, in the way his hands were shaking because he was as scared of losing me as I was of losing him. So why end an almost two year relationship?

I waited for a few minutes, standing, staring at the front door, as if Mason would come back and tell me he was wrong, he didn't mean it, and that he loved me. When he didn't come, I sank to the floor, completely empty inside, not even able to cry. It had all happened so fast; I wasn't fully able to process it yet. Instead, I put my head in my hands, the kitchen tile cold against my legs, and wondered what I had done wrong.