“Come with me.”
Everyone in the room turns to Mason, who’s standing casually with his arms crossed over his chest, accentuating his very swollen and very tan arms. He meets my eyes and gives me a half smile that’s really sweet, but doesn’t stir my blood like Cameron’s predatory scowl.
“Mase, you don’t have to—”
“I’ve been hitting on you for-fuckin’-ever, trying to be creative, and none of that shit worked. Now I’m just straight up asking. Go out with me.”
Layla, Raven, and Jonah must be as shocked as I am as they’ve all gone completely silent.
Warmth crawls into my cheeks, but I push it back. God, he’s such a great guy. He has been throwing out cheesy lines since I met him, and although he makes me laugh, he’s not my type. My type is a man who treats me like dog shit, apparently.
The words filter through my head and leave a bitter taste in my mouth. When was the last time I gave a nice guy a chance? I don’t think I ever have. And Mason is gorgeous in a beach-boy kind of way, all sun-bleached hair and white smile. If Cameron does show up at the party with another girl, at least I won’t feel like a total jackass if I’m there with Mason. That’s if he shows up at all.
“Sure, I’ll go with you.”
His expression goes slack. “No shit?”
I shrug. “Why not?”
“Rad.” He nods a few times, a slow smile spreading across his face. “I’ll pick you up.”
“Come on, Baywatch.” Jonah walks by and smacks him on the back of the head.
“I’ll call you.” He winks before he turns to follow Jonah outside.
“You’re going out with a guy.” Raven pins me with a knowing glare. “You’re so not gay.”
If she had any idea what my mind and my body have been up to . . .
“Mason’s cute, but I didn’t know he had the power to turn a gay woman straight.” Layla pulls at her lower lip, hiding the smile that her eyes can’t.
“Real funny.” What have I done? Besides leading Mason on and potentially pissing off the CEO of the UFL. Yeah right, like he cares.
I’ve never been anything more to him than a booty call. If he is at this party, I bet he won’t spend a single second worrying about my being there with Mason. And I’ll spend the entire night wishing Mason was him.
Fucking great.
My phone rings in my purse on the table. “Oh, I better get that.” I’m the on-call manager tonight, and it would be my luck to get called in for something stupid like them running out of toilet paper. “Hello?”
“Yvette.”
My chest gets heavy and I swallow hard. “Hey, what’s up?” I hold up one finger to Raven and Layla and mouth “I’ll be right back” to avoid them overhearing our conversation.
“Did you miss a deposit?”
I hurry to the back door and step outside. “No, Dad. I’ve never missed a deposit. You know that.” My shoulders slump and I close my eyes, knowing what’s coming.
“It didn’t come through, honey. I swear. I need you to put more in.”
Dammit. He must’ve gambled, drank it, or both. “I don’t have any more until payday.”
“How’s that possible? You’ve gotta eat, right?” He chuckles.
“Dad, you’re asking for my grocery money?”
“You’ve got rich friends, Yvette. I have no one. And you promised you’d help me out when I need it. I need it.”
This is so fucked up. My stomach roils, and I muster up the courage to say no. “I put the money in your account. It’s not my fault you ran out.” I hold my breath, close my eyes, break out in a sweat, and wait.
“Always so selfish . . .”
Here it comes.
“Just like your mother. She should’ve listened to me when I told her to abort you, but the selfish bitch had you anyway.”
Every word chips away at my soul, destroying what little confidence I’d managed to build since our last call.
“. . . gave you life, and you repay me with nothing. Every breath you take on this earth you owe to me.”
I don’t want to believe him, but I can’t think of a reason to refute him. My head hangs low between my shoulders.
“. . . you spend all your money on food to feed your fat ass . . .”
He’s wrong. Right? My chin trembles.
“ . . . I never loved you . . .”
I cringe and tears spring to my eyes.
“. . . horrible daughter . . .”
He’s right. My mom left when I was seven because I was too much of a burden, and he was left to raise me alone. I do owe him.
“. . . never hear from me again, you selfish bitch.”
My heart leaps in my chest. “Dad, wait!” Don’t leave me.
He’s silent.
“If you can give me a few days, maybe I can scrape something up. It won’t be much, but I’ll try.”
“I’ll come by to pick it up.”
“Wait, Dad—”
The phone disconnects. Shit.