Page 100 of Nowhere to Hide
“The post. Sloane. Why?”
He tilts his head. “Bro, I don’t know what you’re?—”
“Don’t.” My voice is flat. “A Pi Sig guy confirmed it.”
The grin flickers. Most people would miss it, but I’ve been watching Mason Cross for three years. I know what it looks like when he recalculates, and as he looks around at every one of the guys, none of them gives him a hook to grab.
“Look,” he says. “I don’t control what people post online. If someone?—”
“You gave them the story. You gave them details nobody else had.”
“What details?” Still smiling. “I heard the same rumors everyone else?—”
“The birthmark,” I say. “She told me about the kitchen at Ironwood, Mason.”
She didn’t.
But his face changes, and that tells me everything I need to know.
“This is — are you seriously doing this?” He snorts. “In front of the guys? In front of half the student body?”
“Yeah.”
His voice goes softer, almost gentle. “I think you’re a little tilted right now, Ro. I think you should go home, sleep it off, and we’ll talk later.”
I swing.
It’s not a hockey fight where you grab the jersey, square up, and wait for the ref. It’s my fist closing, my arm going, and the impact of his jaw under my knuckles, hard enough that his head snaps sideways and his beer goes off the table and shatters on the floor.
Then Mason comes off the seat.
He swings wildly and catches my shoulder. Luca and Theo grab him from behind in half a second, but Mason fights them, twisting against Luca’s grip with both arms. The words come out ugly and fast, nothing like the voice I’ve heard all season.
“Fuck you! The captaincy should’ve been mine?—”
Theo has one arm, and Luca has the other, but they’re struggling with his anger and strength until Niko helps by hooking an arm across his chest. Mason is still fighting, his face red and eyes wide, and there’s blood on his lower lip.
“Mason—” Luca is straining.
“You took the C, and then you took my girl, you piece of shit.” His eyes are wide, and his chest is heaving. “So I did my homework. I found a guy from her old school who saw the photos and learned all about her, right down to the birthmark.”
Seb is between us now, one hand flat on my chest, firm but not pushing.
“I never had them, though. Not for lack of trying, because I’d love to see that little sweet bitch in all her glory.” Mason’s voice cracks. “But it didn’t matter, because if you tell someone there’s a photo, they believe you.”
“I’m taking this to Franklin, and you’ll be suspended by tomorrow,” I say. “Now go.”
Luca lets go of his arm, and Theo lets go of the other, and Mason stands there, wiping the blood off his chin with the back of his hand. Then he reaches past Niko for his jacket without looking at anyone. He puts it on and heads for the door.
Seb catches my eye from across the table. He nods once, slow, then follows Mason.
I look down at my knuckles, split across the first two knuckles, blood welling in the creases. The pain catches up late. I flex my fingers and they work, but the skin pulls and stings and my hand is already starting to swell.
I pull out my phone and walk toward the back hallway where the bathrooms are, past the pool tables, the dartboard, and a table of girls who are watching, and lean against the wall and call Sloane again.
Four rings, then voicemail, then the beep.
I almost hang up, then don’t, because avoiding the hard conversation is what I’ve been doing for days.
