Izzy

Word travels fast in a place such as Leighton Academy. Mason leaving me high and dry at Zane's party was the main topic of conversation, and everywhere I turned, hushed whispers and snickering followed. I get it, I've never been rejected before, and out of all people, Mason just had to be the first. It didn't make any sense.

I saw the way he looked at me after taking that shot. I've been around enough boys to know what that look meant. He wanted to take me on that damn countertop. That's the only explanation.

"It could be worse," Christy says reassuringly as she peels her banana. "At least you didn't try to go in for a kiss with him. It was just dancing."

"Oh, please." Willow snorts and rolls her eyes. "Kissing would have been a lot easier to explain why she was rejected. But to be rejected for just dancing? Total social suicide."

I glare at her. "You are not helping."

Truthfully, I'm surprised Willow is still sitting at our lunch table. I don't want to think so lowly of her, but she's so concerned with her social status that I wouldn't put it past her for this scandal to ruin our friendship completely.

"You should have just come and found me at the party," Willow continues. "I would have been able to steer you away from him in minutes. Why did you even want to dance with him, anyway? That's the real issue we need to be concerned about."

I put my face into my hands and let out a huge breath. My hormones got the best of me this past weekend. At least that's what I'm trying to tell myself. There's no way I want to sleep with nerdy, always-have-a-stick-in-the-ass Mason.

"You're going to tell me he's ugly?" I ask. "I know he's a nerd, but come on. He's hot. Can you blame me?"

Willow leans forward, resting her elbows on the circular table. "For someone to be hot, Izzy, the personality has to match. You can do so much better than him."

I don't know why I want to defend Mason when he left me like I was nothing at that party, but he's not all that bad. He may be into his studies, sure, and he may not have any social skills outside of the debate club, but underneath all of that... My cheeks get hot when I remember his stare after he drank that shot. Animalistic. Primal. Like he wanted to take me to the nearest room and have his way with me.

Willow barks out a laugh and sticks a finger in my face. "Stop it! Oh my god, your cheeks are red. This will not happen, Izzy. As one of your best friends, I'm not going to let you tank your reputation for some boy who walked out on you in front of the entire class. He's an arrogant prick who thinks he's too good for us."

Christy finishes her banana and rolls her eyes, beginning to put her long brown hair into a ponytail. "I think you should do whatever makes you happiest, Izzy. Being good at school doesn't make you lame, despite what Willow thinks, and just because someone doesn't party and fuck every weekend doesn't make them arrogant. You should just talk to him."

"And chase after someone who left her alone?" Willow scoffs. "Over my dead body."

They fight back and forth over what I should do as if I'm not sitting right here with them. I scan the quad to see if I can find Zane, but he's not at his usual table with the athletes. Maybe he's upset because we didn't end up having sex at his party, but how could I after what happened? I've never felt so unwanted before. It was awful. The feeling is still lingering even after three days.

"Well, I think Mason is going to choose for us," Christy says smugly, pointing in the direction behind Willow. I whip my head around to see Mason strolling over to us in his usual school uniform—khaki pants and a navy blue polo.

"Oh my god, I want to crawl in a hole," I groan as he approaches.

Christy continues her homework in front of us, avoiding eye contact with him as Willow sits up straighter on the bench and speaks for me before I have the chance. "What do you want?" She asks with annoyance.

He ignores her as if she's irrelevant and looks directly at me, which does not sit well with Willow. "Can we talk for a sec?"

"No, she can't," Willow snaps. "Are you so arrogant that you can't speak to someone who is—"

"Willow," I say in warning, attempting to diffuse the argument before it fully erupts. Standing up from the bench, I nod toward Mason and let him lead us into an empty hallway directly off the cafeteria.

There's no way in hell I'm speaking first, mainly because I'm not sure what he wants to talk to me about. I'm too embarrassed to begin this conversation, so I cross my arms over my chest and stare at my fishnet tights.

"Look..." He sighs and leans up against one of the pillars. "I didn't mean to leave you at the party without a way home. I was thinking more about myself at the time, and it was wrong. I wanted to apologize."

I shrug. "We took an Uber home. It was fine." Not really. We have credit cards that our parents oversee, and if they check the statements and see an Uber charge, they're going to be curious, and then my facade will come crumbling down. It was risky as hell, but I had no other choice since Mason decided to ditch my brother and me.

"I left because it was all just getting to be a little too much. The partying, and...everything."

I arch a brow. "Everything?"

Before he can explain, Tammy Parker pops up beside us with a folder in her hand. I don't even see her come in the hallway, so I jump about ten feet in the air. "Here," she says. "Sorry it took me so long. Your history teacher was asking for a lot."

Mason eyes the green folder as I take it from her, and as he pieces two and two together, his jaw clenches, and his eyes narrow. Whatever apology he just told me seems like it's been retracted. I don't blame him.

"Thanks. How much do I owe you?"

"Same as always."

Reaching into my purse that's hooked around my arm, I dig out my wallet and pull out two hundred dollars for her. She takes it and scurries off back into the quad, and as soon as Mason and I are alone again, he rolls his eyes. "Seriously, Izzy? I didn't think you'd stoop as low as to pay someone to do your papers for you."

I open my mouth to speak, but he continues.

"Do you not understand how hard some of us bust our asses to get the grades we have? I don't go to parties for a fucking reason. I don't date for a fucking reason. People like you think it's okay to use us, and for what? So you can go have a fuck session with Zane? Is it worth it?"

I've never heard him use fuck so many times in the same paragraph. Tammy has always completed my papers for me. There's no way in hell I'd be able to be a straight-A student if she didn't. I've never felt bad about it, but Mason is staring at me in disgust. He seems ashamed of me. And for the first time, I'm starting to feel ashamed of myself, too.

"You have nothing to say?" He asks. I continue to stare at him with wide eyes until he scoffs and grips the strap of his backpack with white knuckles. "Whatever, Izzy. If you think I'm not going to tell Ms. Jones then you're crazy. You're cheating. That's not fair."

When he spins to head back down the hallway, I grip his arm to stop him. He stares at the hold I have on him and blinks a few times before meeting my gaze again. I'm normally this confident, happy-go-lucky girl, but right now, tears are pricking in the backs of my eyes. "Please, don't, " I beg. "You don't understand, okay? I-I'm not good at school. I never have been. And my mom..." I heave out a sigh. "She was this mastermind. Top of her class at fucking Briarwood med school. My parents expect me to be her, and I'm not. Reading is difficult for me. Writing is difficult for me. The words blur together, and I can't sort them out, and I—"

Mason strokes his thumb across my wrist, which is still holding onto his arm. A simple gesture, yet more meaningful than anything I'd ever received from a boy before. His eyes have softened, and for the first time, it's like he's truly listening to me. The real me. The one I haven't shown to anyone before.

"If school is difficult for you then that's all the more reason to try harder at it, Izzy. It doesn't mean you pay other people to do the work for you. You're cheating yourself, and at the end of the day, don't you want to be proud of the life you have? How is that ever going to happen if you're cheating your way through it?"

I gulp loudly, and I hate that I haven't pulled my arm away. I'm allowing him to rub circles on my wrist, enjoying every second of the abnormal feelings coursing through me.

"If you need help, I can...tutor you. If you want."

My eyes instantly meet his. "You would do that?" I ask. "Even after you just found out I've been cheating?"

He shrugs. "So long as you agree to actually try for your papers instead of paying others to do them, then yes. It gives me another extracurricular activity to write on my college applications. Plus, I did leave you hanging at that party, so I suppose I owe you. This can be my apology."

I contemplate his offer, but even I know I'd be an idiot not to take him up on it. My school gig is up, and now my fate lies in Mason's hands. Either I accept his offer for tutoring, or I risk him telling Ms. Jones about my cheating. That would just result in my parents being called, and then I'd never be able to party, see Zane, or see my friends ever again. I can kiss all of them goodbye.

"Fine," I tell him. "You can tutor me, but only on one condition."

He arches a brow. "You do realize that I'm the one doing you a favor here, correct? I don't owe you anything."

"I want to know why you left the party so abruptly. Was it something I said or did? Do you hate dancing that much?"

Mason's cheeks turn red. He's embarrassed. "I'd rather not talk about it," he mutters.

"Oh, come on. You owe me an explanation, Mason. I deserve the truth. I'm being made fun of by the entire school. It's the least you can do."

He laughs. "You really want to know?"

I nod.

"I was hard, Izzy, and I didn't want to dance with you because you would have been able to feel it, okay? And if the school saw me with a boner, you and I both know how well that would have gone over. It would have made my life here more of a living hell than it already is."

My lips twitch, threatening a smile, but I don't want to embarrass him further. I knew I wasn't losing it when he looked at me that way after his shot, but I didn't think he'd get hard from it. Do I really have that much of an effect on him?

"Don't get an even bigger head than you already have," he says, seeming to read my mind. "You're not my type. However, when a girl's breasts are in my face, yes, I'm going to like it."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, you're not my type either," I shoot back, suddenly defensive.

He chuckles. "Is that why you were trying to run your hands through my hair after that shot then? And is that why you're suddenly pressed against my chest right now?"

I glance down, seeing only a mere inch between our bodies. My hand is still on his arm, so I scoff and release it, taking a wide step back from him. He's not my type. He's not. I got emotional after being caught, and he consoled me. That's it.

There's a smug grin on his face, almost like he thinks he won this little game of ours. What he fails to realize is that he has no idea who he's messing with. Izzy Holden is a force to be reckoned with.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but if I truly wasn't your type, I don't think you would have gotten hard from just your lips pressing against my chest." His eyes grow darker when I take a step closer to him. "And I wouldn't be surprised if you went home and thought of me while you took care of it. You did, didn't you?"

"I think you have a filthy mouth," he says gruffly, trying his best to hold it together. "You're wild, Izzy. A girl I most definitely would stay clear of."

I giggle and laugh even harder when his body stiffens at the sound, bringing my lips close to his ear. "And if I truly wasn't your type...then why are you hard right now from just my words?"

Taking a large step back, his khaki pants have a pitched tent, and I fight the urge to widen my eyes when I see just how pitched they are. Mason is...large. Very large.

"Don't start a game you can't finish, Mason," I say with a smile. "Now, when do these tutoring sessions begin?"