Over the course of the week I've gotten a lot closer with Emma, Charlotte, and Mason. I have a few classes with each of them, and it turns out we all have government class together. Charlotte even invited me over Wednesday after school go go swimming, but I had to decline due to obligations within the gang.

Soon enough it's Friday night, and I stand in front of my floor length mirror, analyzing the girl that stares back: a tight black mini dress seductively hugging her curves with a black denim jacket match.

    "What do you think?" I ask, turning around to face Caleb, who's sprawled out on my bed, rapidly texting someone.

    He momentarily looks up, scanning my appearance before dipping back into his conversation. "Fabulous."

    I do a spin in the mirror one last time before sitting down to do my makeup. I decide against my usual natural makeup and go for a dark maroon smokey eye with gold highlights. I throw a clear lip gloss in a mini backpack to take with me, ready to get started on my hair when there's a knock on the door.

    "Come in!" I shout.

      "Hey, what's going on here?" It's Noah, who precedes to join Caleb on my bed.

    "She has a date!" Caleb says enthusiastically, finally turning off his phone.

    "Well, it better be related to the mission then. That's your top priority," he sternly replies with a point of his finger.

    I turn around and stick my tongue out like a five year old. "You're such a wet sock!"

    He chuckles. "I'm only joking! And a wet sock?"

    "Yeah, cause you're annoying, and no help, and–"

    Caleb tries to suppress his laughter, but bursts into a loud harsh cackle.

    I turn back around, throwing my curling iron at him.

    "Ouch, woman! What was that for?" he screeches.

    "Okay, I think we'll be going now." Noah cautiously gets up and leaves, his hands raised in an "I'm unarmed" position.

    "Good luck on your date! You'll need it!" Caleb shouts, scurrying after Noah.

    I roll my eyes at their antics, resuming getting ready in peace. I abandon my plan of curling my hair, as the iron is now somewhere across the room, and decide to do a simple ponytail. I pull a few strands to make it more carefree. Then, contrary to my usual footwear, I slip on a pair of all white Adidas sneakers.

    A ding of my phone indicates that Mason must be here. I throw a few other necessities such as spare makeup in my bag and run down the stairs, making a bee-line for the door.

    Of course, I'm greeted with a Caleb on my way. "Aren't you going to introduce me?"

    "Wasn't planning on it."

    "Why not?" he protests.

    I give him a serious, yet pleading look.

    "Fine," he says, walking away.

    Caleb understands that I like to live as normal of a life as possible outside of the gang. Granted, I'll never be able to get rid of it, and I don't want to. It's just weird having to say "Oh, my family runs a gang. You didn't know?" It's not exactly the type of thing people will openly accept.

    I walk out the door to see a red jeep parked on the other side of the gate. Walking down the driveway, I signal to Beckett, our front guard, that it's okay. He opens the gate, and I slip through.

    "Pretty nice place you got. I mean, a gate?" Mason mentions as I slide in the passenger side.

    The top is off, allowing a slight wind to flow through the interior. The bright sun above us beams down, equalizing out the chill.

    "Yeah, family business," I reply, slightly laughing.

Looking out the window as Mason pulls away, my house gets farther and farther into the distance. The suburban buildings start turning to pasture, and the sun begins to set, splashes of orange appearing like paint on a blue canvas.

    "What do you have planned?" I question, looking over to see Mason focused on the road ahead. Faint tunes from the radio play in the background.

    "It's a surprise; I'm sure you'll like it." He smiles, glancing at me from the corner of his eye. "You look beautiful by the way."

    I shyly smile as a faint blush rises to my cheeks. "Thank you."

***

Shortly, we pull over at a small gravel turn around. "There's nothing here," I state in confusion.

    "Just wait." Mason flashes me a charming smile and hops out, circling around the vehicle to open the passenger door for me.

    "Come on, this way." He nods his head, taking off into the grassy fields.

    I follow behind, the long grass and sparse dandelions tickling my ankles. I watch as the land swoops off, revealing a stunning, white granite cliff upon a jagged coastline.

    "Wow. It's stunning." I stand in awe, looking out into the Gulf, which is illuminated by the orange and yellow tints of the evening sky. The water rises and falls with rhythmic ease, it's aromatic air filling my nostrils.

    "Not as stunning as you."

    I look up to meet Mason's ocean eyes. They're not the dark blue ocean waves type eyes, but the lightest blue, almost pale teal, calm salty water type. He faintly smiles at me, before returning his gaze to the magnificent view in front of us.

    I lean against his shoulder, protecting myself as the heat of the day is replaced by a cool breeze. "What made you want to go on a date with me?"

    "Because I've never been as intrigued with a person as I am with you," he replies with no hesitation, our gazes still fixed on the setting sun. "I don't know what it is, but when I first saw you, I knew there was something else I couldn't see. Something else behind the strong, independent girl you present."

    I remove my head, directing my sight to meet his eyes once again. I move a loose baby hair out of my face as the wind picks up, flowing around us. His arms, testing the waters, slowly wrap around my waist, pulling me in closer. I subconsciously run my tongue over my lips, feeling his warm breath grow closer. He leans in–

    Grrrrrr

    "Hungry?" He chuckles at my growling stomach.

    "A little," I laugh too.

    He slowly lowers his hands, savoring the feel of my body against his for one second longer. "Come on, I know a place we can eat."

    He gives me a light forehead kiss, causing a shy smile to spread across my lips for a second time, before we completely pull apart and head back to his car, our desire faintly lingering in the air.

***

We arrive at a small diner with a quaint parking lot. Square bushes line the front windows, above them, pink and blue neon lights reading "Mariella Diner: open 24 hours."

    "Have you been here before?" I ask as we walk up to the door.

    "Yeah, my dad used to take me here." Mason opens the door, a bell dinging as he does.

    The same bright pink and blue colors adorn the inside. There's a checkered bar spanning the large room, and various vintage posters and signs hung up on the walls.

    We sit down at a booth and order our food, Mason getting a classic burger and fries, while I opt for the also pretty classic chicken tenders.

    "So what's your favorite color?" he asks.

    "Definitely black. You?"

    "Green." He responds proudly.

    "Green? Who likes green?" I exaggerate.

    "I do!" He chuckles. "And not neon green, more like a deep rainforest green."

    "Okay, but–"

    I get cut short as Mason's smile suddenly falters, his eyes no longer directed at me, but something behind me. "Would you look at that, Myles! It's our favorite pal from the good ol' days," a familiar voice speaks.

    I turn around to see the guy who ran into me at the party stalking towards us, arms crossed. He's wearing a tight fit black t-shirt, and those black jeans with the chain hanging on the side. A midnight bomber jacket tops off the look, along with a minimal, silver chain necklace. Behind him, someone else, whom I'm assuming is Myles, is outfitted in a similar all black ensemble: there's no chain and he's wearing a hoodie instead.

    "What do you want? I told you I was done," Mason remarks.

    "Oh, nothing. Just curious what you're doing. That's one special girl you got."

    "And how would you know that?" Mason defensively questions, abruptly standing up.

    "He ran into me at the party. Quite rudely might I add." I stay seated, a scowl on my face.

    The guy subtly smirks at me, and Mason notices.

    "Listen, you stay away from her, or you'll have to deal with me." Mason takes a step forward, sizing up to the guy, but lacks a few inches.

    "I think we already know that I'd win that fight." Mystery man scoffs.

    Something causes a fit of anger in Mason, and he shoves the guy backwards. The guy stumbles, managing to maintain his balance.

    There's a moment of stillness on either side, each guy calculating his next move. If tension was visible, the air would be scarlet.

     Not thinking, Mason recoils his right fist and throws the first swing, transforming the diner into a boxing ring.

    A loud crack sounds at impact with the guy's face, crimson leaking from both his nostrils. He takes the blow like a seasoned fighter, and my eyes bulge as a fist gets plunged into Mason's stomach, sending him falling to the floor. Oh no.

     I've seen more than a few fights; I've been a part of more than a few fights, and I know this one isn't going to end well. While the chance presents itself, I instinctively run in between them, but instead of adding to the madness, I stand my ground, making strong eye contact with the guy.

    "Get. Out. Of. The. Way," he slightly whispers.

    "No."

    He wipes dripping blood from his nose, momentarily pausing as if he wants to say something back. "Let's go," he directs to his friend, turning around and walking away.

    I turn around and reach for Mason, carefully helping him up. "You okay?"

    "Yeah, I have a first aid kit in the jeep," he coughs, a trickle of blood pooling out of his lips.

***

I help Mason into the backseat and shut the door behind him before running around to the other side. "Where's the first aid kit?"

    Mason closes his eyes and leans his head against the seat, loosely gesturing behind him.

    I peer over the back row, finding the kit tucked away in the small trunk.

    "Headache?"

    "Nothing some ibuprofen can't fix," he self-deprecates. "I'm sorry, Amelia. This was supposed to be a nice night and I ruined it."

    "Don't worry about it," I assure him, scanning through the kit for some alcohol wipes.

    He sucks in his breath as I clean a small cut on his forehead. "I'm assuming he's the one who gave you those injuries," I specify, "from when we first met in the office?"

    There's a silence before he speaks. "Yeah. You know we used to be good friends, so by default I got dragged into a lot of the stuff he did," he removes my hand from his forehead, sincerely looking in my eyes, "and it wasn't good stuff."

    "Well that's in the past now, right?" I try to lighten the mood.

    He sighs, looking away from me, resting his head against the cold window instead. "I told him I didn't want to be friends anymore." He pauses, taking in another drawn-out breath. "Clearly, you can see how that went over."

    Not knowing what to say, I reach out to give Mason's hand a squeeze. I understand how hard it can be to end a friendship. Unfortunately, I'm usually on the other side.

    He looks into my eyes, a softness that wasn't there before  present in them. "Come on, I'll drive you home."

    He climbs out, getting into the driver's seats. I follow suit, reclaiming my seat up front.

    I know I shouldn't be hanging out like this. In a few months time, when the mission is over, I'll have to end connections. But there's something inside me, something I've never felt before, that's pulling me forward, and I can't help but give in.

    The drive back is quiet. No soft music, no conversation, just the nighttime crickets and churning asphalt pieces beneath the tires.  

    I'm staring out the window, when a ding breaks the silence. It's my phone. I pick it up from its place resting on the console, and see a text message appear across the screen.

Unknown Number:
Sunday night, 7 pm, 152 Cutter Lane. ALONE. Be there, or you'll regret what you did tonight. -CH   

    "Is everything okay?" Mason worries, taking notice of my expression.

    "Yeah, it's just my brother," I lie, my thumb swiping over the power button in a swift motion, hiding the message. As if that's going to make it go away.