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Mason hated that the day had deteriorated so far. He didn’t want to fight with Ginny. About this or anything. He’d been enjoying her company. But it seemed like every other time he opened his mouth, he said the wrong thing.
This time, though, he didn’t have to guess at his mistake. It was glaringly obvious. “That came out wrong. I’m sorry.”
Her jaw was clenched, and her food sat untouched in front of her. “Really. How does a sentiment like that come out right? How would you react if I said I’m sure a basement dwelling neckbeard knows so much more about wooing women than I do? Do you tell them how big your in-game sword is? Boast about your Underwatch score?”
“Overwatch.” He bit the inside of his cheek. He’d thrown shade at her. There was no justification for getting mad because she gave better than he did.
She shoved back from the table, the chair legs scraping loudly across the floor. “Great. Thanks for clearing that up. Unlock the car for me, so I can nap until you’re ready to go. Something tells me you don’t trust someone like me with your keys.”
At least she wasn’t threatening to hitchhike out of here and leave hm behind. He needed to make this right. “I was thinking we’d get rooms, and sleep here for the night.”
“Have fun with that. If you don’t trust me to sleep in your car, I’ll find an alternative. It’s going to hurt to pay for my meal. There’s no way I can afford a room.”
“Dinner is on me. I told you that.”
She crossed her arms. People were staring. He just wanted her to sit down, but was worried asking would make her louder.
“Thinking I could owe you anything was a mistake. I’d hate to find out the implication of sex was expected in return. Are you going to unlock the car, or should I find a bench to sleep on?”
“Ginny, please.”
“What?” She bit off the word.
The waitress stopped next to them. “Can I get you anything? A box or a to-go cup for your drink?”
How much practice did she have asking that with a pleasant smile?
“We’re okay, thanks,” Mason said.
“I’m fine.” Ginny spoke through clenched teeth.
“Great. I’ll check in on you.” The woman left their ticket on the table and walked away.
Mason slid the check toward him before Ginny could grab it. “Dinner is on me. If you don’t eat it, it will go to waste. Sit, please? Get some food in you, to buy me more time to figure out how to pull my foot out of my mouth?”
Ginny growled, but she sank back into her chair. She snagged a fry. And then another. Then several at once, and washed it down with a swig of sweet tea. “You might as well talk while I’m stuffing my face.”
It wasn't quite consensus to hear him out, but it was close, and he expected less. “I’m sorry. Sometime—a lot of the time—I have no idea what I’m supposed to say, and I think What would someone else, someone who doesn’t second-guess themselves all the time, say in this situation?”
“Are you mimicking your brother? Because he’s a bad role model.”
Mason bristled at the dig, but given how Jake approached her, it was a fair assessment.
“People who never second-guess themselves are frequently assholes.” Ginny met his gaze. “They care more about themselves than the people around them.”
“Is that your professional opinion as a psychiatrist?” He hoped his teasing came out right.
“That’s my professional opinion as the rag doll who takes her clothes of for jerks’ money.”
Apparently he had a ways to go to make this right. He wanted to be annoyed. “They’re doing something right that I’m not.” Shit. That came out wrong. Her scowl reinforced his suspicion. “My point is, I’m sorry. Don’t go sleep in the car. If you can’t afford a room, I’ll get a double. They’re the same cost, and I’m getting one regardless.”
“No more favors. I’m keeping track of all of this, and as soon as I have my bank card in hand, I’m paying you back.”
With most people he’d assume that was lip service. The hard edge to her voice and glare said she was very serious. “That’s not necessary.”
“It is.”
What else was he supposed to say? He’d apologize all night, if he thought it would get them back to middle-ground.
She stared at her plate while she ate. He was grateful she wasn’t insisting on sleeping on a bench anymore, but he had no idea how to make things right.
****
WHEN THEY REACHED THEIR motel room, Ginny waited until Mason put his bag on a bed, before sitting on the other. “Thank you for letting me share your room.” She made sure to sound grateful, but couldn’t summon more enthusiasm than that.
“It’s not a problem.” He didn’t look at her.
She hated that she owed him anything. This was one step from borrowing money.
And leeching free coffee and gas station snacks wasn’t?
She would have made that up to him. Pitched in on the rest of the trip. This was something she couldn’t pay him back for immediately.
The silence that was their dinner companion gave her thoughts free reign to argue with each other. Mason didn’t say anything most people weren’t thinking, and why did she care about his opinion? She didn’t put this much effort into what anybody said about her.
Besides, he was the asshole stalking his ex-girlfriend. Despite his insistence he was over her, he was going to her wedding, and didn’t see an issue with it.
His disdain hurt for reasons she couldn’t untangle or move beyond. That her past job made her less in his eyes.
His apology had sounded sincere, but it also wasn’t the kind of thing someone said if they weren’t thinking it.
Then again, she’d formed ideas of her own about him. She didn’t mean the basement-dwelling neckbeard comment, but he didn’t know how to talk to women, he didn’t have any confidence, and he thought being an asshole was the same as being assertive.
When she examined her assumptions, he hadn’t given her a huge reason for them.
And now she was back on the same circular path that haunted her during their meal.
She grabbed a book from her bag, and opened.
It wasn’t her job to change him, or her place to tell him how he should or shouldn’t act around his ex. Especially if he didn’t ask for her input.
Now to hope her dreams got the message, and didn’t treat her to more images of cuddling with him. Teasing him. Feeling his hands roam her body.
It would be her job to help people realize things about themselves. Paying patients. Who came to her looking to change and grow.
“Do you want the full truth?” Mason’s question startled her.
No. It’s none of my business. The words stuck in her throat.
“About why I’m going to the wedding? Because you’re not the only one asking. I’ve been wondering it myself, and I’ve had a lot more time to think about it. I believe I finally figured it out, thought,” Mason said.
Ginny didn’t want to have this conversation, but her curiosity disagreed. “Why are you going?”
“I don’t have any sort of hope or delusion that Trina will have Spencer for me. She and I did break up for a reason. Besides, the dude owns the largest water park chain in the country. Why would she walk away from that for me?” Mason laughed.
Ginny cringed. “You see, you chuckle because you want me to think that’s a joke. Maybe you’re trying to convince yourself of the same. But at least part of you feels that way, just like at least part of you has a less-than-stellar opinion of my past.”
“And you’ve never thought anything negative about someone else? You obviously have ideas about me. You’re just better at locking it away instead of dealing with it.”
“You’re not dealing with it, you’re using it as an excuse to say something aloud, to convince yourself the thought isn’t all that bad.”
“So I should lock it away?” A hint of challenge crept into Mason’s voice.
Ginny struggled to keep herself on track. She wouldn’t be derailed by emotion again. “So you should figure out why you feel that way, when other people don’t, and engage in a little introspection, to decide if they have a point or if you need to stop giving a fuck what they think.”
“And then I’ll be one of those assholes who speaks without considering other people’s feelings.” He sounded exasperated. “Those same people who you said spend more time concerned with themselves than those around them.”
He was twisting her words, and she hated that. He didn’t want to understand.
Or you’re as uninterested in trying as you’re accusing him of.
Fucking brain. “I’m not getting into this with you,” she said.
He threw up his hands. “I’m not being unreasonable. I want you to explain this to me. Am I supposed to care what people think? Ignore them? Share my opinions? Swallow them? Change them because someone said to? Tell the world to go fuck itself and live in a self-perpetuating bubble?”
When he put it that way, she almost saw why it was confusing. To Ginny, it made perfect sense though. There was a time and place for every single one of those.
And what if someone is trying to find those boundaries?
She couldn’t set those for him.
Then stop trying to.
“Why are you going to the wedding?’ she asked.
“I want to find out why Trina and I didn’t work out. Why, after so much time together, she friendzoned me.”
Friendzone. The word and its implications crawled through Ginny like a cactus under her skin. That he expected Trina owed him a relationship, love, sex, or something, because he was nice to her. That he felt Trina’s friendship wasn’t as valuable as the conquest of dating her.
“Yeah, this conversation is over.” Ginny picked up her book and pretended to read.