Page 48 of With This Mask
He doesn’t finish the thought, but the impending success is implied.
“You’re incredible,” I tell him. And I mean every word. He’s becoming his own man, doing the things he loves, instead of just taking the expected path set before him at birth.
He reaches over and lays a hand on my calf, brushing his thumb over my skin. And I see it in his eyes, what my words mean to him.
Sometimes we all need a cheerleader.
“You want to see it before I post?” he asks as he glances back at his screen.
I shake my head. “I know it’ll be beautiful. Do your thing, then come to bed with me.”
I press a kiss to his cheek as I walk by, and head into his bedroom.
The rude intrusion of vibration jolts us awake. Alec's cell phone dances across the nightstand, insistent. He groans, reaching for it with a curse. "What the hell?"
"Who is it?" I mumble, disoriented by the sudden return to reality.
"Shit," he mutters as he checks the screen. Just then, the call goes to voicemail. "It was my father." There's a weight to his voice, a resignation that speaks volumes about their relationship.
He listens to the voicemail, and I can hear the venom in his father's words even without the audio. Alec's body tenses beside me, his jaw clenching. I hear reference to several videos being sent to him, of Alec causing a scene. He calls out Alec on participating in “high school drama”. He insists he needs to talk to Alec about his recent life choices. The words are ice cold, leaving a sting.
I see it on Alec’s face, as he angers by the second.
"Hey," I say, my voice soft and worried, "if this is going to be a problem?—"
"Fuck him," Alec cuts me off, fierce and resolute as he tosses the phone aside like it's contaminated. "I'm so sick of his shit."
"Alec, I doubt it’s that simple,” I say, nervous. “You’re a Vanderholt. I… I don’t want to cause some kind of rift between you and your family.”
“That rift was there the day I was born,” he says with a cold edge to his voice. But he turns and puts a hand to my cheek. “If I have to pick, him or you, I’m going to pick you every time, Salem.”
His words make the breath catch in my chest. The rawness there is… shocking. And it’s Alec Vanderholt, saying them about me. “Are you sure?" I ask, heart thundering in my chest. I can't be the reason his world falls apart.
"More than anything," he says, and there's a fire in his eyes that matches the one in my belly. "I want you, Salem. Not the whispers or the bullshit legacy. Just you."
Emotions bite at the backs of my eyes, and I know things have shifted. "Okay," I whisper, daring to hope that we’re worth the risk.
The green numbers on Alec's alarm clock draw my eyes. 8:41 a.m.
“Fuck, Alec, we’ve got twenty minutes until classes start.” I bolt upright, dragging the sheet with me as I search the floor for my clothes.
"Shit." He springs out of bed. All long limbs and urgency, he grabs his jeans from the floor. "Get dressed. I’ll drive us."
"Captain Obvious," I mutter, finding my bra on the floor, but nothing else. In a panic, I go racing out into the living room where I find the rest of my clothes shed by the couch. I tip over once as I jump into my jeans.
"Here." Alec tosses me my shoes, a pair of scuffed-up sneakers that have seen better days. "That everything?"
"Let's go," I say, voice barely steady. This is it—facing reality after our night cocooned away from the world.
We hustle through the apartment, a chaotic dance of grabbing backpacks and slamming doors. Exiting into the crisp air, we dart into his car, and bolt down the road. We slide into the parking lot with only five minutes to spare.
Hand in hand, we race up the sidewalk to the all red-brick building with the sprawling lawns.
I hear the words as we dart to class. There are numerous students headed inside, witnessing our second public display of affection.
“Is that her?”
“You know who she is?”