Chapter 3: Truth, Dare, and Denial

Back at school, Mason and I went back to being strangers.

We passed each other in the hallway without a word. It was easier that way—less complicated, less painful.

During the track meet, I was supposed to take photos of the athletes for the school’s Instagram.

I lugged my camera bag across the field, squinting in the bright sunlight. The smell of grass and sweat filled the air, mixing with the sound of cheering fans.

Mason was a long-distance runner—I wasn’t assigned to him, but my teammate suddenly had something else to do.

She handed me her camera, grinning. "You’re up, Harper. Don’t mess it up!" I rolled my eyes, but my heart fluttered at the thought of photographing Mason.

In the sunlight, Mason warmed up—calm and focused.

He stretched, muscles rippling under his shirt. I snapped a few candid shots, trying not to stare. He caught my eye and smirked, making my cheeks burn.

I was so hot I felt drowsy.

The sun beat down, making my head spin. I wiped sweat from my brow, wishing I’d worn shorts instead of jeans.

Mason took off his baseball cap and tossed it to me—it landed perfectly on my head.

The cap was warm from his head, the brim shielding my eyes from the sun. I grinned, adjusting it to fit.

"Hold on to that."

His voice was casual, but there was a challenge in his eyes. I stuck my tongue out at him, refusing to be intimidated.

"What, am I your target?"

I raised an eyebrow, teasing. Mason just shrugged, lips twitching in a smile.

"Don’t want it? Give it back then."

He reached for the cap, but I dodged, laughing. He lunged again, but this time he grabbed my water bottle instead.

He made a grab for it, but I dodged. He ended up snatching my water bottle instead, twisted off the cap, and took a big swig.

He drank deeply, sweat glistening on his forehead. I watched, mesmerized, as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

I paused, waiting until he finished before blurting, "That… was mine."

My voice was small, almost a whisper. Mason looked at me, eyes unreadable.

Mason froze too, eyes flicking away as he wiped his chin and tossed the bottle back. "No big deal. I don’t mind sharing."

He tossed the bottle back, his tone dismissive. But there was a softness in his eyes, a hint of something more.

"Oh."

I pressed my lips together, looking away awkwardly—only to see a bunch of familiar faces in the stands, eating up the scene.

My bestie Jess was there, waving her phone and grinning.

She made a heart with her hands, mouthing, "So cute!" I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t help smiling.

Wait, weren’t Mason and I supposed to be strangers?

I glanced at him, wondering if anyone else had noticed. The line between us was blurring, and I wasn’t sure how to feel about it.

The race started. I followed along the grass, taking pictures.

My camera clicked away, capturing every stride, every bead of sweat. Mason was poetry in motion, every muscle working in perfect harmony.

Mason could be a jerk, but I had to admit—he was dazzling.

He ran like he owned the track, each step confident and sure. I snapped photo after photo, unable to look away.

Out in the open, half the world was his steady stride, the other half a blur of noise.

The crowd faded into the background, their cheers a distant hum. All I could see was Mason, pushing himself to the limit.

I wasn’t close, but I could hear his footsteps clearly.

The rhythmic thud of his shoes on the track was hypnotic, grounding me in the moment.

Long-distance is brutal, but Mason ran like it was nothing.

He made it look effortless, barely breaking a sweat. I admired his determination, his focus.

As the race neared the end, I stood far from the finish line so I wouldn’t get in the way.

I found a spot on the grass, camera at the ready. My heart pounded as Mason rounded the final bend.

Mason ran straight for me, stopping right in front of me, bent over, hands on knees, panting.

He looked up, sweat dripping down his face, eyes locking on mine. For a moment, it felt like we were the only two people in the world.

"Why’d you stand so far away?"

His voice was rough, breathless. I shrugged, trying to play it cool.

"So you’d have a clear shot for your photos. Make sure they look good."

I raised my camera, snapping a quick picture. Mason rolled his eyes, but I caught the hint of a smile.

"You doubting my skills?"

I teased, nudging him with my shoulder. He just shook his head, grinning.

"Nah, girl, he just wanted to run up to you. Guys love to show off."

One of his friends called out, winking. I blushed, looking away.

Mason’s friend ran over and tossed him a water bottle.

The bottle sailed through the air, but Mason missed it, too focused on me. I stifled a laugh, handing him my water instead.

Mason missed it, didn’t bother to pick it up, and just took my water again, gulping down a mouthful. "Beat it."

He handed the bottle back, wiping his mouth. I tried not to stare at his lips.

"I’m just the photographer. What’s there to show off?" I protested.

I shrugged, pretending not to care. But inside, my heart was doing somersaults.

But only I knew—when Mason came running at me, heat and all, my heart really did skip a beat.

I pressed a hand to my chest, trying to steady my breathing. The world felt brighter, more alive.

The sunlight shimmered in my eyes.

I squinted, raising a hand to shield my face. Mason grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

Something brighter broke through.

For a moment, I felt weightless—like anything was possible.

After the meet, the winners and their friends went out to eat, and Jess dragged me along—too many hot guys to miss.

We piled into a booth at the local pizza joint, laughter and chatter filling the air. The smell of pepperoni and garlic bread made my stomach growl.

Of course, Mason was there.

He sat at the end of the table, arms crossed, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. I tried not to stare, but it was impossible.

"Mason, thanks to you, our class got another gold medal. As class rep, let me toast you."

Lauren Evans raised her glass, eyes sparkling. I watched her, feeling a pang of jealousy.

When I walked in, I saw a girl sitting next to Mason.

She was pretty, with long blonde hair and a perfect smile. I recognized her from class—Lauren, always put together, always in the spotlight.

I knew her—his class rep, Lauren Evans. She wore a flowy princess dress, all sunshine and confidence.

She leaned in close to Mason, laughing at something he said. I rolled my eyes, trying not to let it bother me.

"Sorry, I drove, can’t drink," Mason declined.

He held up his hands in surrender, but Lauren just pouted, undeterred.

"No way, bro, you drove home just for this?"

Tyler, Mason’s best friend, grinned, nudging him in the ribs. Mason just shrugged, looking bored.

"So what? Mason’s loaded—his family owns property in the college district."

Someone else chimed in, and the table erupted in laughter. I shrank back, wishing I could disappear.

"Yeah, Mason’s talented and rich—no ordinary girl could ever match him. Needs a little fairy."

Lauren smiled sweetly.

She batted her eyelashes, playing the innocent. I rolled my eyes, but inside, I felt small.

She wasn’t wrong—Mason’s family was rich. That’s why my mom didn’t hesitate to marry into his family.

Money is magnetic—who cares about true love?

I tried to ignore the sting of her words, focusing on my pizza instead.

My dad was honest, timid, died of cancer. To classmates, I was the kid without a dad—easy target.

I remembered the whispers in the hallway, the pitying looks. I hated being defined by my family, by things I couldn’t control.

My defenses were paper-thin.

I felt exposed, vulnerable. I glanced at Mason, wondering if he felt the same.

"Jess, I’m going to the restroom. Save my seat."

I grabbed my bag, needing a break from the noise. Jess nodded, giving me a sympathetic smile.

I handed her my bag.

She clutched it to her chest, guarding my spot like a hawk. I smiled, grateful for her loyalty.

When I came back, there were no open seats near Jess. My bag was next to Mason—right between him and Lauren.

I hesitated, scanning the table for an escape. Lauren smirked, patting the empty seat beside her.

Awkward.

I swallowed hard, forcing a smile. I slid into the seat, careful not to touch Mason.

"Sit."

Mason looked unfazed.

He barely glanced at me, but I could feel his gaze on the back of my neck. I tried to act natural, but my hands shook.

Fine, I sat.

I crossed my legs, smoothing my dress. The tension was palpable, but I tried to ignore it.

With so many classmates around, things between Mason and me suddenly felt unnatural. I felt their eyes on us, the air thick with curiosity. I wished I could disappear.

"Mason, hurry up and get a girlfriend so all the girls at school can give up. I’m sick of being known as Mason’s buddy."

Tyler groaned, slumping in his seat. The table erupted in laughter, and I couldn’t help but join in.

I couldn’t help but laugh—I only just learned his friend’s name was Tyler.

He winked at me, raising his glass in a mock toast. I grinned, feeling a little more at ease.

"The camera girl next to you is pretty cute."

Someone nudged Mason, eyebrows raised. I blushed, looking away.

Why bring me up? Now I felt even more awkward. Awesome. Just what I needed—everyone’s attention on me.

"Actually, their story’s pretty funny—let me tell you…"

Tyler was obviously drunk—Jess clamped a hand over his mouth.

She shot me a look, mouthing, "Don’t worry." I relaxed a little, grateful for her support.

But everyone else started teasing.

The table erupted in laughter, everyone tossing out wild theories. I rolled my eyes, but my cheeks burned.

"Don’t be ridiculous—she’s just my sister."

Mason’s voice was flat, dismissive. But there was a hint of something else—something only I could hear.

"Oh, sister, huh? What kind?"

Someone waggled their eyebrows, making the whole table laugh. I sank lower in my seat, wishing I could disappear.

"Enough gossip. One more word and you can do your homework yourselves," Mason snapped.

His tone was sharp, commanding. The table fell silent, everyone looking sheepish.

"Maybe they really are just siblings," Lauren chimed in, still smiling innocently. "Mason, I heard your dad married a beautiful woman with a daughter. What do you really feel about that sister?"

Her words were casual, but her eyes were sharp. I felt a chill run down my spine.

My heart skipped.

I clenched my fists under the table, willing myself not to react. I glanced at Mason, hoping he’d defend me.

This was what I least wanted them to know—that I was Mason’s sister.

I’d worked so hard to keep it quiet, to avoid the rumors. Now, it felt like everyone was watching, waiting for my reaction.

Mason was the golden boy; I looked good on the outside, but inside I was a mess.

I compared myself to him constantly, always coming up short. It was exhausting, but I couldn’t stop.

He’d seen me at my worst, seen me at my most ordinary—he’d seen the real me. That was the part that stung the most—he knew everything, every flaw, every awkward moment.

And the thing is, I liked him.

The truth was a secret I guarded with my life. I couldn’t let anyone know—not Mason, not my friends, not even myself.

I didn’t want him to know how wrong that felt.

I felt ashamed, guilty. But the heart wants what it wants.

No matter how mean Mason was as a kid, he’d occupied my entire adolescence since I was twelve.

He was the constant in my life, the one person I couldn’t let go of. Even when I hated him, I needed him.

He was always the highlight in my otherwise grayscale life. Like the one neon sign in a row of empty storefronts—he just lit everything up.

Mason didn’t answer Lauren. "Enough. There are only two kinds of sisters for me: family, or close friends I call ‘sis.’ That’s it."

His voice was firm, leaving no room for argument. I felt a pang of disappointment, but also relief.

"I don’t do that third kind."

He glanced at me, his eyes softening for just a moment. I looked away, my cheeks burning.

"Alright, bro’s a good guy."

Tyler clapped Mason on the back, grinning. The tension at the table eased, laughter bubbling up again.

Family? Close friends?

I turned the words over in my mind, trying to figure out where I fit. Was I family, or just a friend?

Which one am I?

The question echoed in my mind, unanswered. I stared at my plate, appetite gone.

I couldn’t tell.

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t find my place. I felt lost, adrift.

Mason’s answer was so formal, maybe I wasn’t either—just being polite.

I tried to read between the lines, but his face gave nothing away. I sighed, feeling defeated.

Bitterness welled up inside me.

I swallowed hard, forcing a smile. I wouldn’t let anyone see how much it hurt.

All these years, our relationship had been awkward because of who we were—impossible to define or figure out.

We were trapped by circumstance, by labels we couldn’t escape. I wondered if things would ever change.

Lauren was left hanging, a little embarrassed.

She forced a smile, but I could see the frustration in her eyes. I almost felt sorry for her—almost.

"All this sister talk is weird," I said, raising my glass to her. "Lauren, I ran around filming all day—didn’t even get you on camera. Oops, must’ve been too busy filming my brother."

I winked, letting the implication hang in the air. The table erupted in laughter, and Lauren’s face turned red.

Lauren’s face went from flushed to sour.

She clenched her jaw, forcing a smile. I grinned, feeling a small victory.

Everyone here was an athlete or staff—Lauren was only here because she shamelessly tagged along.

She tried to play it off, but I could see the hurt in her eyes. I almost felt bad, but not quite.

"Ooh, she called him ‘brother’—so sweet."

Jess teased, nudging me under the table. I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t help smiling.

Jess, why are you like this? My face burned.

I kicked her under the table, but she just grinned wider.

"Smart move."

Mason leaned back, telling everyone, "If you can’t hold your liquor, drink less."

His voice was calm, but there was a warning in his eyes. The table quieted, everyone taking the hint.

Everyone stared at me.

I felt the weight of their gazes, but I refused to look away. I raised my glass, toasting to nothing in particular.

…

Behind my cup, Mason’s fingers tapped my hand, a silent tease.

His touch was light, barely there. I glanced at him, catching his eye. He smirked, and I blushed, looking away.

Midway through, someone suggested Truth or Dare. My stomach dropped—flashbacks to every embarrassing game I’d ever played. I knew I was doomed.

Without Mason, I always went wild. With him there, it felt off.

I glanced at him, trying to gauge his mood. He looked bored, but I could see the tension in his jaw.

Of course, I got picked first.

Tyler grinned, spinning the bottle in my direction. I braced myself, ready for anything.

The dare was classic: kiss a guy.

My heart pounded, adrenaline surging. I glanced around the table, trying to decide who to choose.

If not Mason, I wouldn’t pick anyone else.

I glanced at him, my cheeks burning. The whole table watched, waiting for my move.

But unless I was sure, I wouldn’t show my hand.

I hesitated, weighing my options. The silence stretched, tension thick in the air.

"I’ll drink…"

I reached for my glass, but someone grabbed my wrist, stopping me.

"Come on, Mason’s been staring at Harper all night—why not let them…"

Tyler waggled his eyebrows, making the whole table laugh. I rolled my eyes, but my heart raced.

Someone made a suggestive gesture with their thumbs.

The table erupted in laughter, everyone egging us on. I glanced at Mason, searching his face for any sign of approval.

Sometimes, all it takes is a little push.

I felt the pressure mounting, the weight of expectation heavy on my shoulders.

My mind wandered—what would kissing Mason feel like?

I imagined his lips on mine, the heat of his breath, the taste of his skin. My cheeks burned, and I looked away, embarrassed.

I snuck a glance at him.

He met my gaze, his eyes dark and unreadable. I held my breath, waiting for him to make a move.

I hadn’t dared look at his face since I drew the card.

I was too afraid of what I’d see—disgust, amusement, indifference. I braced myself for the worst.

Was he indifferent, amused, or would he think I was cheap?

The question echoed in my mind, unanswered. I swallowed hard, forcing a smile.

But all I saw was calm.

Mason’s face was unreadable, his eyes giving nothing away. I felt a pang of disappointment, but also relief.

Mason’s lips pressed together, his eyes dark, gaze landing on me. We locked eyes, silent.

The world faded away, leaving just the two of us. I felt a spark, a connection I couldn’t explain.

He said quietly, "Drink."

His voice was soft, almost gentle. I nodded, reaching for my glass.

A silent rejection.

The words stung, sharper than I expected. I forced a smile, hiding the hurt.

Expected, but it still stung.

I swallowed hard, blinking back tears. I wouldn’t let anyone see me break.

"Lame."

Tyler rolled his eyes, grabbing the bottle. The table erupted in laughter, the tension broken.

Still calling her "sister"—so shady, pretending to be pure?

Someone nudged Mason, winking. He just shrugged, unbothered.

"Guess they’re just friends. Next round," Lauren said, barely hiding her excitement.

She grinned, triumphant. I clenched my fists under the table, determined not to let her win.

After that, I just let loose.

I laughed, joked, drank more than I should have. If Mason didn’t want me, I’d at least have a good time.

"Bro, didn’t you drive? Don’t drink—give it here, I’ll drink for you."

I grabbed Mason’s glass and downed it.

The burn was sharp, but I didn’t care. I slammed the glass down, grinning at Mason.

"Whoa, you’re wild—I like it! Drink!"

Tyler cheered, raising his glass in salute. The table erupted in laughter, and I felt a rush of adrenaline.

Mason had never seen me like this. "Slow down, you’re crazy."

He reached for my hand, trying to steady me. I shook him off, determined to prove I could handle it.

Yeah, I’d been holding back too much.

All those years of playing it safe, of hiding my feelings—it was exhausting. I was done pretending.

I wanted Mason to see the real me.

Even if he didn’t like what he saw, at least I’d be honest. I met his gaze, daring him to look away.

Even if things didn’t work out, I wouldn’t lose myself for anyone. I repeated it like a mantra in my head—never again.

I was already tipsy. I patted Mason. "I drank your booze, so drive safe—don’t let me down."

He rolled his eyes, but I caught the hint of a smile. Maybe, just maybe, he was proud of me.

Jess: "Savage."

She grinned, raising her glass in solidarity. I laughed, feeling lighter than I had in years.

Later, Mason carried me to the passenger seat.

His arms were strong, steady. I leaned into him, letting him take care of me for once.

I squinted, brain blank, alcohol numbing everything. My lips tingled, my head spun, and Mason’s face looked fuzzy and kind of perfect.

"I mixed half a bottle of soda in your drink and you still got drunk."

Mason’s voice was soft, almost amused. I groaned, burying my face in my hands.

"Harper, you’re just like when you were fifteen—chugged a whole bottle in your room and got so sick you wouldn’t come out."

He laughed, the sound warm and familiar. I smiled, despite myself.

Mason kept talking, words blurring together. "Feeling awful?"

I barely heard him, the words drifting in and out of focus. I nodded, eyes closed.

I just remembered, long ago, my first taste of alcohol. For a second, I forgot the loneliness. For a second, I forgot the pain. That memory was sharp, a mix of sweet and sad.

In the blur, Mason was the one steady light. I realized how small my secret seemed, and it hurt.

He was the one constant in my life, the one person who never let me down. I wondered if he knew how much he meant to me.