Page 56 of Blitz

“Spitting and scratching every big kid on the playground who was mean to me and Jamal.”

She grins. Her eyes shine with amusement. “They deserved it. They should have known better than to mess with you.”

“They learned quick.” I squeeze her fingers. “Thank you for that. I don’t think I’ve ever said how much it meant to me. To both of us.”

“I’d do anything for you, King,” she says quietly.

Chapter twenty-three

Mason

His eyes grow wide, and he swallows. His fingers spasm around mine. He doesn’t know what to say, how to react. He shoves an enormous bite of chicken into his mouth.

I shake my head and smile, because at the end of the day, he’s still my King, the big guy with the big feelings who eats when he gets upset, who eats when he’s happy, who eats when he doesn’t know what to do.

I focus my attention on my meal. He made me dinner—from the dining hall, sure, but he took the time to think about what I would enjoy the most. He put thought into our evening together.

“Do you have a lot of homework tonight?”

He shrugs. “Nothing crazy.”

“Do you want to maybe hang out a bit?”

His smile stretches from ear to ear. “Yeah, baby, I’d like that.”

“We can watch Notting Hill,” I suggest, just to watch him squirm.

But he doesn’t squirm. “I haven’t seen that movie in forever.”

“You’ll watch chick flicks with me?”

“Girl, I’d watch paint dry as long as I got to do it with you.” He laughs, shaking his head. “Besides, you know I have a thing for Julia Roberts.”

“This is true.”

“Do you want to come over? My roommates and I usually watch Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy! before we go our separate ways.” He chews on his lip. “No pressure. If you would rather go to your place…”

“Your place sounds good,” I tell him. “I haven’t watched Jeopardy! in forever.”

“Wes is, like, obsessed,” he admits. “It’s the only time he puts down his book.”

“Yeah, what’s up with that? He doesn’t talk.”

He shrugs. “He’s a decent guy who’s had a tough life. I cope with my feelings by eating everything in sight. He copes by retreating into himself and reading books. He talks, he just needs to really feel comfortable around people to open up to them.”

“And he’s opened up to you?”

“We’ve lived together for a year and a half. We’ve played three seasons together. You can’t do that and not become friends.” He lifts his shoulders again. “We spend a lot of time together. He’s antisocial as fuck and doesn’t care who knows it.”

“We should set him up with someone. What kind of girl is he interested in?”

“None of them.”

“He’s gay? Or ace?”

“Neither. He doesn’t date.” He shrugs. “He doesn’t talk about it. He’s more than happy to spend every Saturday night in his armchair with a book.”

“Hm…”