Playing His Own Games | ✔︎

chapter twenty-six | entwining hearts

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"The way I see it, if you want the rainbow you gotta put up with the rain."
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Mason

I'M CONVINCED THAT I'VE gone crazy. I spent four fucking months shutting out and removing Carrie from my life. Four months chasing drugs and alcohol, picking random fights at parties I wasn't invited too and spending countless nights with girls whose names I couldn't remember in the morning.

And it was all a complete waste of time. The moment I set eyes on her, words rolled off my tongue and the conversation flowed smoothly. I was falling for her all over again. All those months spent trying to forget, trying to numb the heartache, trying to drown out reality and the pain of my life—completely and utterly pointless.

How can you even be heartbroken if you never even gave your heart to the other to hold? Then again, I suppose the saying goes: You don't know what you had until you've lost it.

Have I lost Carrie? I thought I did, but after her confession, I'm not so sure.

I feel beads of sweat roll down the back of my neck, my skin gripping the leather seats of Carries Mustang. I can't deny that I'm scared shitless of how this conversation will play out. I never prepared myself for it, having spent my whole life promising myself not a soul would ever discover my secret.

I lie to everyone. Including myself.

Carrie's eyes shift away from the road, her gaze touching mine. Her hair is tied up in a messy bun on the top of her head, she's wearing track pants at least two sizes too big for her and a shirt torn in three places and covered in stains. She has quite literally just rolled out of bed. "Where do you wanna go?"

I shrug, tearing my eyes off her to stare blankly out the windscreen. "I don't mind."

"There's a nice place about ten minutes away," she continues, tapping her fingers against the steering wheel. "It's a quiet grassy area that's isolated from the rest of town."

"Sounds good," I mumble, resting the side of my head against the window.

Carrie audibly sighs. "Mason—" she begins, but I cut her off.

"No, Carrie." I lift a finger up in the air. "I don't want you to throw me a pity party and I sure as hell don't want this conversation to start in your car because that leaves more space for awkward silences and I don't want—I just...I'm not ready." My voice cracks on the last three words as I finish my nonsense rambling.

"You can trust me, Mase," Carrie whispers.

I keep my eyes fastened on the tall trees passing by. I don't want to see the shame and judgment that must be clouding her beautiful eyes. She doesn't deserve to be with me. She shouldn't be sitting in this car with me after what I did to her. I don't deserve anything.

"I know," I mutter, squeezing my eyes shut. "I just don't trust myself."

"I'll have to help you with that, then."

I laugh humourlessly. "You secretly a psychologist or something?"

The tiniest of smiles makes its way onto Carrie's pink lips. "I've studied psychology, give me some credit."