The Distance Between Us

situation. It seems to work well.
    He laughs. “Okay, that’s cool.” He sits down next to me.
    I watch him drink for a minute then say, “I’m going to get some water.”
    “Oh.” He jumps back up. “Sit. I’ll get it.”
    I watch him walk away and can’t decide if I’m feeling fluttery because I’m talking to the lead singer of a band or if it’s Mason. When two other girls approach him at the bar and he turns to talk to them, I realize it’s the first option. After all, I hardly know him. This makes me feel really shallow.
    The bartender hands him my glass of ice water but Mason continues talking.
    I stand, suddenly. I need to go. I have an early morning.
    I walk to where we had left Skye and Henry and tap her on the shoulder. “Hey, I’m leaving.”
    She pulls away from Henry. “Wait.” She looks around and spots Mason. “No, don’t leave. He always gets bombarded by girls. It’s not his fault.”
    “I’m not worried about him. That’s not why I’m leaving.” At least that’s what I’m trying to convince myself. “I just have to work in the morning. I’ll see you soon.”
    I walk away to say good-bye to Mason and hear her say, “Wait, we’re walking you.”
    As we pass Mason I wave and mouth bye. But Skye says out loud, “We’re walking Caymen home.”
    He gives me the wait motion with his hand and nods politely to the girl in front of him, finishing up whatever conversation they were having. He sets the ice water he’d ordered on the bar, then he’s by my side. “I’m coming, too.”
    Henry and Skye walk in front of us, talking quietly. Mason drapes his arm around my shoulder. I’m learning quickly that he’s a touchy kind of guy. We’re silent for a block.
    “I didn’t realize you had to leave so early,” he finally says.
    “Yeah. I have work in the morning.”
    “We play again next week.”
    I’m not sure if he is inviting me or making small talk so I just nod.
    “Thanks,” I say when we get to the shop and I pull the keys out of my pocket.
    He leans toward me, and because it never crosses my mind that he would try to kiss me no matter how touchy-feely he is and with witnesses, I don’t back up fast enough and am shocked when his lips meet mine. They’re surprisingly soft. “Oh, uh . . . wow,” I say, pulling back.
    He doesn’t back up and his eyes meet mine. “Thanks for coming tonight.”
    His smoky voice makes my heart patter to life and again I’m shocked at my reaction to him.
    “Okay, see you.”
    Skye smiles at me like that was the most exciting occurrence ever. I just want to escape.

Chapter 8

    T he store doesn’t open until nine, but like clockwork my eyes pop open at six Saturday morning. I try to go back to sleep but my body won’t have it so I stare at the ceiling for a while thinking about the night before. What happened? Did Mason mean to kiss me? Had I turned toward him when he was going in for a hug or something? My brain feels the need to disassemble and then reconstruct the night in a way that makes sense.
    It comes up with two logical possibilities. One, it was an accident and he was too nice to say so. Or two, he was really friendly and kissed everyone. Now that I have some reasonable explanations, I feel better. I just hope we don’t run into each other for a while.
    After an hour of unsuccessfully trying to go back to sleep, I roll out of bed and shower before my mom takes over the bathroom. I pull on a pair of jeans, a T-shirt, and slide my feet into fuzzy black slippers. With wet hair I go to grab a list of orders I had left downstairs the day before so I can enter it into the computer.
    I cross-check it with the list my mom had made one more time. We still have an hour until opening so, with plenty of time to finish getting ready, I tuck the list into my pocket and head for the computer. Before I make it to the bottom step, I hear a knock on the front door. My hand immediately goes to my wet hair and my brain immediately thinks it’s Mason. This scenario doesn’t fall into either of the explanations my brain had come up with. Overly affectionate rock stars don’t show up on the doorstep the morning after. We’re not open yet so the blinds are still drawn over the glass. I don’t have to open the door.
    A second later the shop phone rings.
    Mason doesn’t have the shop phone number, does he? Would Skye have given it to him? I pick it up before my mom gets the chance to answer upstairs. “Hello, Dolls and More.”
    “A