2 Hours and 37 Minutes

Chapter 8

Cassidy's POV 

               Stuck in an elevator. No cell service. It could be worse. I could be alone.  

            “Mason Reeves,” I heard. It drew me out of my thoughts. Returning back to reality, I noticed his extended hand.

            “Cassidy Montgomery,” I replied and accepted his offered hand. His hand was so much bigger than mine; it was almost embarrassing. His skin was rough compared to my own moisturized skin. Like the guy used moisturizes. I thought with a laugh.

            “What’s so funny?” he sounded amused. Did I just laugh out loud? The way he was looking at me expectantly I must have.

            “Nothing,” I squeaked and wiped the smile from my face as heated up slightly.

            After a few minutes passed, I plopped myself down on the elevator floor, and Mason joined me. I stared off into space until Mason decided to make conversation.

            “So,” he cleared his throat, “visiting?”

            “Yeah, we got in earlier; I was on my way to the pool,” I did a sweeping motion over my body as clarification that I was indeed in a swimsuit. His eyes followed where my hand guided. I blushed and coughed slightly. “What about you?”

            “I don’t live too far away, but I’m still on vacation here with my mom and little brother,” he replied. “Where are you from?” he added.

            “Georgia. It was my turn to pick where we would spend our family vacation; so here we are,” I said that last part with a big grin on my face and motioned with my hands around the elevator, “I’m really loving the scenery.” He chuckled, and I laughed along with him. I don’t what it was about this guy; he just made me feel at ease. Confidence practically oozed from his pores; he wasn’t scared or worried. You could tell he was a go with the flow kind of guy. Carefree. I’ve always been that person who needed structure and organization to be able to function. Ever since I was little, I haven’t been able to go through life without a plan. I have to know and be able to think things through.

            Mason was sitting across from me with his knees pulled up towards his chest with his arms loosely draped over the tops of them. He was involuntarily playing with his lip ring: sucking it in his mouth and running his tongue over it. His eyes locked on the floor; he appeared to be deep in thought. My back was against the wall. I was sitting with my legs crossed as I fiddled with the hem of my cover up. Daring a glance at Mason, I noticed that he had a scar running down the inside of his forearm on his left arm. It wasn’t clean but jagged. It looked like it had been there a while probably a couple years judging by the faintness of it.

“How’d you get that?” I wondered as I pointed to the arm in question. He glanced down at what I was looking at. A grin slowly started to widen on his all too handsome face.

“Well…” he looked up from the scar to meet my gaze and began.