Mason Deaver

“I noticed you’re going out to the courtyard during your lunch.”

Jesus, I’m ready for everyone to stop being obsessed with where I go for my lunch break. “Oh, yeah, not a cafeteria fan.”

“Draw me like one of your French girls.”

I stare at him.

“Titanic?”

“That’s a little dated, don’t you think?” I say.

The world’s too loud sometimes.”

Me: How’d you get so smart, Mariam?

Mariam: I didn’t graduate from Berkeley with a 4.0 for nothing.

Nathan: Small world.

Yeah. Small world.

“Listen, if you don’t pick one, I will, and I’ll tie you down while I paint your nails.”

“Dearest sibling, I’m going to file down these claws of yours.” She motions to my fingers, which seems like an exaggeration

“Did I hear my name?” Thomas peers from around the corner, still in his pajamas. Can’t blame the poor guy.

I turn off my phone and slide it back into my pocket. “Okay, never mind. Let the suspense kill you.”

He’s really warm, and for a split second I can smell his sort of terrible cologne and his deodorant. I think that’s lime. It probably shouldn’t make for a good combination, but right now, it smells so good.

Oh, shit.