The Student Auction - Part 6

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I’d left it too long. I knew I had by the way the mood changed. I should have kept the erotic flame burning. Maybe kept my clothes off, or made another pass at him. I should have teased him with my body, kept him on edge, wanting me, needing me. But I didn’t. I couldn’t.

Whatever had happened in the bedroom, as amazing, perfect and surreal as it had been, it had stumped me. One moment I had been so terribly desperate for the man, and the next, I was squirming my way off the bed and running into the living room. Perhaps it was the dreaded post-nut clarity, but how could clarity make me so stupid?

“So this record you were talking about” I said, when the dust had finally settled, and we’d returned to the living room.

He kept his eyes on the tele, though there was nothing worth watching on it anymore. The game was over, and now I knew that he was staring at it blankly, because he didn’t want to look at me. Despite that, he smiled politely.

“Yeah” was all he said, and I found myself squirming.

I wasn’t a good flirt. I wasn’t a good tease, either. Mason was the confident one. He was the one who initiated things like this, not me.

“That’s cool” I said, and cringed. That’s cool? You idiot!

He excused himself, and I wasn’t sure whether to be glad of the momentary peace or annoyed that I had somehow ruined the most magical moment of my life. What exactly had I done? Was he annoyed that I hadn’t had sex with him? Was he upset that I hadn’t returned the favour in the bedroom? Was he irritated that my reaction had been disappointing for both of us? I racked my brains for some sort of answer, until he returned, fully clothed.

“I think I’m going to go”.

The words hit me like shattered glass. What had gone so terribly wrong that not only was he not interested in me anymore, but now he was leaving?

“Did I do something?” I asked, surprising myself.

Mason raised his brows and shook his head. “No, no, it’s not that” he told me.

If not that, then what?

“I uh… I just don’t think that this… You know? It’s not right”.

I tried to find the words to respond, but they lodged sharply in my throat. I couldn’t show him how truly hurt I was, so I gave a faint nod instead.

“Honestly, Matty, it’s not you”.

I couldn’t help but scoff. He was giving me that old line? I turned my own attention toward the stupid television now, but I wasn’t watching it.

“Listen, it’s just… I have a girlfriend, man. I really enjoyed what we did, what we had, but–”

“Forget about it” I said dully, though I didn’t mean it. I didn’t want him to forget about it. I didn’t want him to forget about me, yet I had no other defence. He reached out his hand, his fingers lightly caressed mine, and I pulled away. “Don’t” I said, and he watched me, “you have a girlfriend, remember?”

I didn’t look at him, but I knew that I’d scored a point with that one. I was glad of the fact. I wanted to hurt him the way he’d just hurt me. How could he do this to me? How could he do it after the day we’d just had? It was cruel, horrible, rude and nasty.

“I’ll see you in school?” It was a question rather than a statement. He wanted to know if I now hated him so much that I’d ignore his entire existence, and in that moment, I was afraid of the answer I’d give, so I shrugged.

He stood up and let out a long sigh. From the corner of my eye I watched him return to the bedroom. I wiped a tear from my cheek and clenched my jaw, for I was feeling anger that I’d never felt before.

It was too easy. He’d come in here, played with my heart in my own home, gotten me as vulnerable as he wanted, and now he was walking away. It reminded me of a scene from a movie. The villain walking away from a burning building and wiping his hands together as he laughed. Was Mason Creevey my villain?

“You’re an asshole, you know that?” The words had left my mouth before I had a moment to think about them. They seemed to freeze him in place, and once I realised that, I continued. “Fuck you, Mason” I spat, getting to my feet, “you do all this shit? Walking around naked, flirting with me, sleeping in my fucking bed? And then you remember you have a girlfriend? Fuck you”.

I didn’t care that I was being loud. I didn’t care that I was being harsh. I didn’t even care that Mason, with no effort at all, could have killed me with his bare hands. All I cared about now was making him feel half of what I was feeling.

He kept his stupidly perfect eyes locked on mine. Even now, as I geared up to blast him with a barrage of insults, he was so incredibly hot. He reminded me of a boy being told off, yet he towered over me as I did it.

“It’s always the same with guys like you!” I continued, losing all control. “You think because you’re hot that you can do whatever you want, or say whatever you want, and then you can just walk out and leave everything behind. Well you can’t!”

I tried to think of more things to say. I wanted to continue so that he’d have to stand there and listen, and maybe I could continue insulting him until Monday morning. My brain, however, was tired. Nothing worth saying came to mind, and that gave Mason the opportunity to respond.

“Are you finished?” He asked, and my heart surged with anger.

“Am I… You’ve got to be fucking kidding me?! Am I finished? Is this a fucking joke?”.

“You need to calm down, Matty” he said, stepping toward me, “I –”

“Don’t give me excuses, Mason” I snapped, because I couldn’t listen to them, not now. “How would you like it if someone came along and ripped out your heart and smashed it to pieces?”. I was acutely aware that I was beginning to sound like something from a soap opera, but I didn’t care. “You knew what you were doing” I continued, and I didn’t even care that tears were welling in my eyes.

“Matty, I –”

“No! You don’t get to just make an excuse and everything is forgotten about! It’s not fair, you… You…”

“Will you just shut up and let me finish?” He asked, and his lips curled to something of a smile.

My entire body had become so engulfed with anger that I was shaking. He stepped closer again, placed his hands around my shoulders and stared deep into my soul.

“I thought you were regretting it” he breathed, “I thought you had changed your mind in the bedroom, and that freaked me out”.

I opened my mouth to reply, but nothing came out. Maybe I overreacted. I had given him a bit of a mixed message. One minute I was telling him to fuck me, the next I was stopping him.

“What about your girlfriend?” I finally managed, but I received no response, but the response of his lips on mine.

He was so warm, so soft, so wet. He pressed gently against me, more gentle again when he touched me. His hand brushed across my cheek, his thumb circled my ear, and despite everything that had just happened, I melted into Mason Creevey once more.

How did he do this? What sort of magic did the young man possess that allowed him to get away with everything, just by being him? I was quite sure, in that moment, that he could have committed mass murder, and I would still be standing there, paralysed by his touch.

When he finally pulled away, I found myself yearning for more. I leaned forward as he pulled back, until my head rested against his clothed chest. Oh, how I wanted to rip off his shirt, expose his wonderful nudity and spend the rest of my life just standing here with our bodies touching.

“We called it off” he whispered, stroking my hair as I listened to the rhythmic thud of his heart.

I hardly even realised what he was saying. Words made no sense in that moment, because all I wanted was to feel him.

“Before you woke this morning” he continued softly, “we ended things”.

I looked up at him now, as the sentence struck me.

“You… You ended things?”

“We did” he corrected, “it wasn’t working out, and I knew I had to have you”.

I felt his breath on my nose as I stared into his eyes. Was this a joke? Was it another Mason Creevey special? My brows scrunched together as my brain tried to comprehend what he had just said.

“When you left the bedroom I thought I’d ruined everything” he continued, and for some reason that I didn’t understand, I knew that Mason was telling me the truth. “I’ve never been in love before, Matty” he said, still caressing my cheek, “it’s terrifying”.

Was he saying what I thought he was saying? Was Mason Creevey telling me that he was in love? And that he was in love with… No, he couldn’t be.

Without warning on my part, I clasped my hands around the back of his firm neck. My mouth returned to his, our tongues began to battle, and even though I knew that he was letting me, he fell back onto the sofa and I straddled him.

“I don’t take it back” I said, breathlessly, “you’re still an asshole”.

He dragged his shirt over his head in a frenzy. He leaned up on one elbow and wrapped his arm around my back, drawing me close to him. His grin returned, as beautiful as it always was and he whispered roughly: “Speaking of assholes”.