Faking Perfection

10|Insignificant

𝟙𝟘|𝕀𝕟𝕤𝕚𝕘𝕟𝕚𝕗𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕥

"Wait, no. Give me the red one! No, not that—ugh! Mason!" I lunge for the bag of gummy bears in his outstretched hand as we exit the movie theater, jumping to try and reach, but it's impossible. Mason is at least six inches taller than me, and I huff in defiance, crossing my arms over my chest in defeat.

He pops a gummy bear into his mouth, his eyes glimmering with humor from the sun reflecting off different cars parked in the lot. I watch his jawline work as he swishes the candy inside his mouth, but I bite back any flirtatious comment threatening to escape. He's already said that this wouldn't work between us, and he's right. I'm not a one-guy type of girl. I never have been.

The movie we had gone to see had been a scary one, which I quickly learned Mason loved. We both are into horror movies, and for the next two hours, for the duration of the film, we sat in the very back row of the theater discussing our top ten favorites. I hated to admit it, but we had more in common than I originally planned on, and I don't know if that's a good or a bad thing.

"Fine." He reluctantly holds out a red gummy bear in my direction, and I open my mouth so he can pluck it on my tongue. Now, if I were truly being myself, I'd wrap my mouth around his finger and suck. Hard. But I'm not flirting. I'm not going to hurt him. We are friends.

When we reach my car, I hoist myself up onto the hood and grab the bag of candy from him, gulping loudly when he takes a step closer. He's almost pressed right between my legs, which are dangling in front of me, and it's an effort not to wrap my feet around him and cross my ankles to hold him in place.

The entire movie I tried to ignore the tension. I tried to ignore how his hand flickered in my direction ever-so-often before he'd seem to think twice and relax it back on his thigh. I tried to ignore how our arms brushed against each other when I shifted my weight in the seat—how his cologne had flooded my nose entirely and never seemed to have left.

And now, when I have to peer up at him from how tall he is. How despite the fact that he's this smart nerd from our school, he's hot. Incredibly fucking hot.

"So, is this going to be a thing now?" He asks.

"Is what going to be a thing?"

He points a finger between both of us. "Going to movies and stuff. You know, hanging out." The way he's emphasizing the last bit of the sentence makes my head spin.

"Yeah. I mean, if you want it to be. If it's not too difficult for you."

He arches a brow. "You think this is difficult for me? I do have other friends, you know."

"Oh yeah? Who?" I chomp on a gummy as he narrows his eyes, proving my point. "I just meant...after our conversation..."

"What? You think because you turned me down that I wouldn't want to be your friend and still hang out? I have self-control, Iz."

Iz.

I've been called that name plenty throughout my life, but never have I felt these flutters in my stomach from the sound of a voice using it.

My lips twitch, threatening a smile. "You think I turned you down? If I'm not mistaken, I wasn't ready to stop kissing you. It was you that pulled away."

We shouldn't be discussing the kiss. I wanted to pretend it never happened after that day, but deep down, a part of me knew I'd never be able to forget it. I loved how his hands felt on my body. I loved that spark between us and the way he looked at me.

Almost as if thinking the same thing, he glances over his shoulder at the sunset forming behind him, swirls of oranges and red, and then sighs. "So, how cool was it growing up with a famous dad?"