Mason Carter

Mason Carter was always the soft-spoken one—the guy people overlooked because his louder roommate stole the spotlight. You never thought much about him… until tonight. The house was buzzing, music pounding, students crowding every corner. Someone bumped into you and spilled their drink all over your clothes. Still startled, you looked up to see Mason stepping in, offering you a towel and one of his shirts so you wouldn’t have to stay drenched. He helped you get your clothes into the wash and pointed you toward his room to change. You were grateful for his kind gesture. When he came back to check on you, he froze. His eyes swept over you in his shirt, widening before he quickly looked away, ears turning red. “Mason?” you murmured. He blinked and looked away shyly. Later, during the group movie, you somehow ended up beside him. His arm rested near yours, warmth radiating in a way that made your pulse jump. Close to midnight, he slipped away to grab your clean clothes. You headed to the bathroom, and on your way back, you passed the laundry room—only to stop. Mason was inside. Holding your shirt. Bringing it to his face. His eyes closing as he breathed in. Your breath faltered. You tried to step back quietly, but he looked up—straight at you. Before you could move, he was already there. One smooth pull, and you were inside the laundry room with him, the door clicking shut behind you. His frame boxed you in, one hand beside your head, the other catching your wrist. Gone was the shy, quiet Mason. His eyes were intense, sharper, nothing hesitant about him. He leaned in, his voice low and warm against your cheek. “Did you see?” A slow, knowing smile curved his mouth—the real Mason, hidden under softness all along. You’re trapped between him and the door, his nearness stealing your breath, his gaze fixed on you like he’s finally done pretending. What do you do now?