chapter 3

School continued and it was getting unbearable dealing with Greyson. It had been a week since our run in at the grocery store and I couldn't take the comments. In my daydreams I saw myself snapping and setting him on fire. I immediately thought about the jail time and being away from Mason, so those thoughts never came to fruition, but it was nice to think about. And boy did I seriously think about it.

I was pretty sure I felt so annoyed because Mason wasn't there. I was so used to him helping me keep my head up. When things got bad senior year of high school he was the one who kept me moving forward, thinking about all the positives. I didn't bring it up to Mason again because he would have done something that might not be like when he avoided punishment in high school. He'd actually get arrested or something, and then he'd be the one in jail. I didn't like any plans that ended with one of us being incarcerated.

It was Friday and class had gotten out so I got to be free of him for the weekend. We still were testing dishes and working really well, but it was just that I didn't enjoy the process at all. I had to get to work.

"Hey, fat freak," Greyson called down the hallway. "You forgot your bag." Damn. I had grabbed my backpack, but had totally forgotten my small man-bag. I turned to go and retrieve it when he opened it and pulled out my planner.

"Give me that," I said angrily, snatching my belongings from his hands. "You immature ***." I turned quickly and made my way to the exit.

"Wait up, Oliver!" He was running down the hall after me. I pushed through the doors and left the building.

"What?" I shouted. I was reaching my breaking point. I considered myself to be very patient, but this was getting ridiculous. "What can you possibly want?"

"Are you mad at me?" he asked, face apologetic. I almost laughed in his face. What kind of question was that? Was I mad at someone who messed with me every day? Apparently he was also an idiot.

"Are you stupid?" I asked, starting to question his mental stability.

"I was just joking with you," he said, less apologetic and more pointed, like I was in the wrong. What the hell? I didn't believe this at all. "No need to get all worked up."

"Ha. Ha. Ha. Your sense of humor is out of tune because you're kind of a bully." We stood outside of the building and I began to walk away, towards my bicycle. "You're honestly one of the weirdest people I've ever met."

"I didn't mean to upset you. I was trying to make you see that you should drop your boyfriend and try to do better. You're better than a fat guy. You can have me." He was serious. He really was serious.

"Are you crazy?" I asked.
.
"Crazy for liking you? I don't think so." That was flattering, but he was still crazy.

"I have a boyfriend who isn't a psychopath, plus, you're conceited and rude and not my type." I unlocked my bike.

"You're telling me, Oliver, seriously, that you really like your fat loser boyfriend, when you could have me?" He was really out of it. Absolutely insane.

"Yes. Now leave me alone--." His thin lips pressed against mine for a split moment before I pushed him off. "What the hell? You don't just kiss someone. You need to leave me alone. My boyfriend is going to be pissed. I don't believe you. You should be medicated." I was flustered and spoke very quickly. I was kind of embarrassed and he was reveling in it.

"I doubt your fat boyfriend could take me on." I laughed so hard I almost died.

"Just stay away from me," I said as I mounted my bike and rode off. He was so not right in the head, absolutely insane. I rode to work wondering if I should actually tell Mason.

It wasn't really that important. It didn't mean anything at all to me--but Mason was not going to take it that way. I locked my bike back up, went inside, and signed in. I sat behind the register and started thinking again.

It was barely three seconds. I didn't think it was that big of a deal. It really wasn't that big of a deal. We would probably laugh about it, maybe--hopefully. That stupid kiss could have just killed me. It was not like I cheated. Was that cheating, because I didn't think so? I was not sexually or emotionally invested, and Mason would totally understand that. He just had to. I spent the entirety of my shift working through the whole situation. I signed out and made my way to my bike. I rode home, still unsure of the route I should take in telling Mason.

Mason was sitting on the sofa when I got home. "So, what's up, Mason?" I sounded like I was hiding something. I was so not the best at delivery. I remember when I told Mason I was gay the summer before my freshman year of high school. I had literally just blurted it out.

"Um, nothing," he said with a chuckle. "What's up with you?"

"What if I told you I was kissed by someone, who I completely detest and hate, for less than three seconds?" I fidgeted with my keys. I really needed to chill out. Mason would likely joke around about it and then tell me it was okay. I knew my boyfriend. I knew things would be okay.

"I'd tell you about the time I cheated on you, with someone more attractive and a much better cook." I knew he'd try to make a joke, so that shouldn't have saddened me so much. I knew it was a joke but I started tearing up anyway.

I turned slowly and went into the bathroom and locked the door. He came knocking immediately. "Go away," I shouted from inside of the bathtub.

"It was a joke!" he exclaimed, still knocking. "Come on Oli! Just a joke."

"Please, just leave me alone for a little while. I'm sleeping in here tonight."

"No you're not, now open the door." He was using his stern voice now. I leaned over from the tub and opened the door. I closed the shower curtain as he came in.

"What?" I asked, his large body creating a dark shadow on the curtain.

"So you kissed someone else, huh?" I flung the curtain open. There he stood, as sexy as ever. His eyebrows were furrowed and he was looking at me seriously.

"He kissed me," I said, clarifying. I would never kiss Greyson. I abhorred the guy.

"Okay, who is this person?" Mason closed the lid of the toilet and sat down. He continued to look at me in a way that made me feel nervous.

"The one I told you about--," I mumbled like an upset five-year-old.

"Greyson, your project partner?" he asked.

"Yes," I said, not giving much input into our conversation.

"I thought he made fun of you?"

"He's suffering from a mental illness, at least I think so. He said he was doing that so I would feel so bad I would leave you."

"Well, I told you to do that while I was at work," Mason joked. He expected a laugh, but I still felt like dying. He continued, sensing his joke crashed and burned. "There's only one thing to do."

"What's that?"

"I need to meet him, so he can see I'll kill him if he does something like that again."

"Don't beat him up please. You don't need to do that."

"Fine. I won't," he said seriously.

"Do you swear?" I asked, more concerned about Mason's well-being than Greyson's.

"God, we're not sixteen," he said, annoyed with me. "I swear."