Izzy

"Wait, no. Give me the red one! No, not that—ugh! Mason!" I lunge for the bag of gummy bears in his outstretched hand as we exit the movie theater, jumping to try and reach, but it's impossible. Mason is at least six inches taller than me, and I huff in defiance, crossing my arms over my chest in defeat.

He pops a gummy bear into his mouth, his eyes glimmering with humor from the sun reflecting off different cars parked in the lot. I watch his jawline work as he swishes the candy inside his mouth, but I bite back any flirtatious comment threatening to escape. He's already said that this wouldn't work between us, and he's right. I'm not a one-guy type of girl. I never have been.

The movie we had gone to see had been a scary one, which I quickly learned Mason loved. We both are into horror movies and for the next two hours, for the duration of the film, we sat in the very back row of the theater discussing our top ten favorites. I hated to admit it, but we had more in common than I originally planned on, and I don't know if that's a good or a bad thing.

"Fine." He reluctantly holds out a red gummy bear in my direction, and I open my mouth so he can pluck it on my tongue. Now, if I were truly being myself, I'd wrap my mouth around his finger and suck. But I'm not flirting. I'm not going to hurt him. We are friends.

When we reach my car, I hoist myself up onto the hood and grab the bag of candy from him, gulping loudly when he takes a step closer. He's almost pressed right between my legs, which are dangling in front of me, and it's an effort not to wrap my feet around him and cross my ankles to hold him in place.

The entire movie I tried to ignore the tension. I tried to ignore how his hand flickered in my direction ever-so-often before he'd seem to think twice and relax it back on his thigh. I tried to ignore how our arms brushed against each other when I shifted my weight in the seat—how his cologne had flooded my nose entirely and never seemed to have left.

And now, when I have to peer up at him from how tall he is, how even though he's this smart nerd from our school, he's hot. Incredibly fucking hot.

"So, is this going to be a thing now?" He asks.

"Is what going to be a thing?"

He points a finger between both of us. "Going to movies and stuff. You know, hanging out." The way he's emphasizing the last bit of the sentence makes my head spin.

"Yeah. I mean, if you want it to be. If it's not too difficult for you."

He arches a brow. "You think this is difficult for me? I do have other friends, you know."

"Oh yeah? Who?" I chomp on a gummy as he narrows his eyes, proving my point. "I just meant... After our conversation..."

"What? You think because you turned me down I wouldn't want to be your friend and still hang out? I have self-control, Iz."

Iz.

I've been called that name plenty throughout my life, but never have I felt these flutters in my stomach from the sound of a voice using it.

My lips twitch, threatening a smile. "You think I turned you down? If I'm not mistaken, I wasn't ready to stop kissing you. It was you that pulled away."

We shouldn't be discussing the kiss. I wanted to pretend it never happened after that day, but deep down, a part of me knew I'd never be able to forget it. I loved how his hands felt on my body. I loved that spark between us and the way he looked at me.

Almost as if thinking the same thing, he glances over his shoulder at the sunset forming behind him, swirls of oranges and red, and then sighs. "So, how cool was it growing up with a famous dad?"

I let out a laugh I wasn't expecting to, but he certainly knows how to tamper down my hormones, that's for sure. "I mean, it's not as glamorous as everyone makes it out to be, but it was okay I guess." He continues to stare at me, waiting for more, and I shake my head to stare out at the sunset, avoiding eye contact. "I love my dad, but he was hardly there growing up when he switched football teams. He had to be gone for months at a time, and my mom didn't want to uproot us from the place we already had friends, so we stayed here instead. Everett holds a grudge against him for it, but I never could. He wanted to be there. I could see how much it killed for him not to be, so I never found it in myself to get mad at him." My eyes slide to his after my confession. "Sorry. I know you're a fan of his. Hopefully, that doesn't taint your image."

He shrugs. "It doesn't. I think having a platform like that comes with sacrifices, and your dad loves the sport. Aside from your family, it's his entire life, you know? Your grandmother was the inspiration for his whole career, and he used all that pain and grief to turn it into something incredible. He's a man I've looked up to my entire life."

Dammit. I don't want to look into his eyes, but it's not a choice anymore. There's so much sorrow, so much sadness lurking behind all of that good in him. When I first found out he was a fan of my dad I thought it was just because of his stats, and his fame, but now...

Now...

"Why do you play basketball?" I ask softly.

Another smile. A sad one. "My dad," he replies. "My parents passed away in a car crash when I was little, but he was on his way to getting a full ride to Chapel Hill. He would have been one of the greats."

I blink away tears and let my eyes flicker down to my lap, twiddling my thumbs around and around. Never did I expect in a million years to have this deep of a conversation with him tonight, but entering it didn't seem scary. I didn't even have to think twice about telling him how I honestly felt. It makes me want to be fully honest with him. No secrets.

"I failed the third grade," I admit with a loud breath. He glances up at me and quirks his lips to the side, almost like he's proud of me for getting this out. "I was in the conference room when the teacher suggested it to my parents, and I saw the look of disappointment on their faces. I know you won't understand it, but everything I've done... Paying for people to do my papers, cheating on exams... It was all to avoid the feeling I got when I saw their faces. I felt so...stupid. Insignificant."

I'm surprised when I feel his thumb and pointer finger wrap around my chin, tilting my face to stare up at him. He doesn't let go. Instead, he gently strokes his thumb down my cheek and says, "You are not stupid. Far from it. Dyslexia isn't an easy thing to deal with. It can break you down and make you question everything. You have to work twice as hard as everyone else to make it, but I promise you, the reward is so much greater when it's you putting in the hard work."

He continues on and on about the benefits of hard work, and it's not until then that everything starts to click together. The reason he offered to tutor me in the first place. The reason he knew exactly the right studying tactics for me to use. The reason he doesn't have friends. The reason he has to stay home all the time. It's not because he's a nerd. It's because to remain at the top of our class, he has to stay at home and study because... Because...

"You have dyslexia too," I say in a rushed whisper. I scan his eyes, blinking away even more tears when they soften. His thumb still hasn't left my cheek. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Probably the same reason as you," he admits. "To avoid feeling insignificant."

Is that really how he feels around me? Does he think because of dyslexia that I'd view him any differently than someone like Zane? I'd never view him any differently. I know exactly how he feels.

I reach my hands up to brush the curled ends of his golden hair away from his face. My heart is hammering in my chest as I watch his tongue dart out to wet his lips, his eyes moving to my neck to focus on my rapidly beating pulse. "So?" He asks in a husky tone. He takes another step closer, directly between my legs now, leaning forward to place a hand on either side of my body, boxing me in. "Does that change your opinion of me?"

I shake my head, unable to speak, but knowing this about him...does change my views of him. He's not some dork who doesn't want to go to parties. He's a kid who has busted his ass for every single grade he's earned. He's good at basketball, great, even, and he's so goddamn attractive that I'm clenching my thighs together to keep me from launching at him.

Has he had experience with other girls before? It certainly seems like he has. The tension is so thick, so tense, that I gulp and look away from him, back out towards the now dwindling sunset. The parking lot is almost empty now.

"I think..." I clear my throat, still unable to look at him. "I think you're the furthest thing from insignificant, Mason, and if I trusted myself more, if I knew for certain that I'd be able to commit to you and only you, I'd kiss the hell out of you right now. But that wouldn't be fair to you because I'm not that girl. Not yet, at least. I'm still tied up with Zane, and truthfully, I don't know yet if I'd be able to fully invest my time with just you. No matter how I might be feeling."

"And how is it that you're feeling?" He bends down to catch my gaze, and the expression on his face makes me breathless. He stares at my lips, then my eyes again.

"Right now?" I laugh awkwardly and heave out a sigh. No matter how much I may want to, I won't do this to him. I won't risk it. Not yet. Not until I figure out if this is what I truly want. Because after learning all of this about him, after knowing how much he's been through, how hard he's worked, I'm not going to hurt him and potentially ruin all of the efforts he's put in. I'm too wild.

So I resort to the only thing I know to avoid my problems: humor.

"I think I'm feeling like a cougar," I say. "I'll be nineteen next week, which makes me older than you by far, I'm certain."

He chuckles and puts his fingertips on my inner thigh, caressing the denim fabric. When he leans in close to my ear, his breath causing me to shiver, he says, "Can I let you in on another secret?"

I nod, practically panting.

His fingertips move up further, almost reaching the spot I'm dying for him to touch. "I failed the third grade too. I'm already eighteen. And even though I wish you'd give in right now and do exactly what you're wanting... When I take you for the first time... Nice and slow..." I moan without thinking, tilting my head to the side, and feeling him smile against my ear. "You're going to be completely mine, Izzy Holden. I won't accept anything less."