Page 40 of Playing Dirty
“That was muscle memory.”
“Sure.”
He said it like he didn’t believe me at all.
Which was irritating.
Because I wasn’t sure I believed me either.
The café door opened behind us, letting in a burst of cold air.
A group of students walked in laughing too loudly, shaking off rain, filling the space with noise.
One of them pointed.
“Oh shit—Reed’s here.”
Of course they did.
Mason didn’t even turn.
Just sighed slightly like he was already tired of existing publicly.
That part surprised me.
Because everyone else at this school acted like attention was oxygen.
He acted like it was noise.
The group waved anyway.
One girl hesitated near our table.
“Hey… Mason?”
He finally looked up.
“Yeah?”
Her confidence wavered instantly.
“Uh—good game last night.”
“Thanks.”
Awkward pause.
She glanced at me.
Then back at him.
Then left way too quickly.
I watched her go. “You’re popular in a very exhausting way.”
“That’s one way to describe it.”
“What’s another?”
