How to Steal Mason's Heart

What would you do if you liked someone? Would you just let yourself slip into the shadows and let the person you like know none of your existence? Or would you step up and take a leap of faith, talk to that someone, get to know each other and perhaps, fall in love? I would probably do the former. I had always experienced the feeling of rejection, the achy feeling seeping to your bones until your heart would absorb it until you feel nothing then you move on. And time was a factor to help rejection heal, because if time was not a measurement, I wasn’t sure if I would probably get over the person I admired—or even loved. But I still tried to open my heart because not everyone was the same, and giving everything a shot was still better than not giving at all. I was happy when my parents and I board on a plane and flew to another country. My father was promoted and since his job was assigned in New Boston, Texas, I was ecstatic, excited to meet new people from different races. My mother wasn’t pleased much because her work as a teacher in a public elementary school was her passion. She didn’t want to leave me alone in the clutches of my father so she resigned, gave up her love for teaching and lived with me until I move out, and live on my own—unless I would get into a relationship. Everyone threw glances at me as I walked down the hallways, with the schedule wrapped around my fingers, my eyes wide as I stared at the numbers hanging above the door frames. Geography was my first subject and I wasn’t acquainted to the geography of USA, most especially I only lived in this country for just a few months. I never scoured the town yet. I cooped up inside the house, liked I used to, because my father never allowed me to explore what the world had to offer. I was still fourteen, it was reasonable. I was young, innocent and incapable of making my own decisions. I sat awkwardly at the edge of the classroom, varieties of colours of people’s eyes stealing glances at me. At first, I got used to it but then when they kept repeating it, it was as if I was a new specie they needed to study. Surprisingly, a girl voluntarily sat beside me. The chair beside me was empty. She had luscious black hair that fell right below her shoulder blades, her eyes the colour of the night sky and her lips a little bit plump. She looked gorgeous. I slouched my shoulders in insecurity, feeling less when she sat beside me. My curly hair was in a perturbed mess, the curls bouncing at different angles. The girl was fit, the simple tee shirt she wore accentuated her curves unlike my stomach which was rounding up in front, my thick thighs rubbing against the plaid jeans I wore. “Hey,” she called. I turned to her. She had a bored expression in her face as if she carried it around all the time, like she had mastered it for the past several years. I gulped, my voice stolen away from me. “Are you just going to bawl your eyes out?” she asked, rolling her eyes at me as if I was uninteresting. My stomach churned. I did not stifle a reply. I was afraid. She was intimidating and her talking to me was not even in a friendly manner. “I’m Courtney, by the way,” she said, sticking her hand in front of my vision. “A-Alexa,” I answered, taking her hand in mine. She had long candle-like fingers. She bit her nails when we broke contact. “Are you a Latin American?” she asked, her voice suddenly had grown warm. She was half-smiling at me and my shoulders slumped in relief. I hadn’t realized my posture had been rigid. I shook my head. “I’m a Filipina.” From that moment on, I knew Courtney would be around. Ever since the first time we met, we always hanged out together. Her mother was a kind woman, who was very hardworking to pay for their bills. They weren’t rich, like my family, but they weren’t poor also. Our favourite ice cream was Ben & Jerry’s. We always had unannounced sleepovers in my house, watching home videos Courtney compiled in her hard disk drive. We laughed, we cried and we giggled over movies. I never felt so happy in my entire life. It sounded cliché but it felt like I knew Courtney in my entire life. But the unexpected thing was, I never knew I would also open my heart and like someone again. It was summer, the most wanted season for everyone. The sun was hot, but it wasn’t as scorching hot when I lived in the Philippines, but hot enough to make your body warm. We were lounging at the ice cream store, eating cookie dough ice creams. Courtney had finished three tubs, while I was still halfway on the second tub. We had a bet that whoever would finish last would pay the bill. I was lagging behind but I didn’t mind. I wanted to devour my ice cream with love anyway. A figure appeared inside the ice cream store. He was tall, built and wore a plain white shirt. He had beautiful blue eyes, his brown hair swept over his forehead. But he was with someone, a younger version of him but he was less built than the other one. He wore a printed Mickey Mouse t-shirt that hung loosely on his frame. “Who’s that?” I asked Courtney discreetly, my finger pointing towards the first guy who went in. “The guy wearing a plain t-shirt?” I nodded. “That’s Mason Ward,” she supplemented. “You like him?” I nodded again. We swore an oath that if we liked someone, we would tell each other first hand. It wasn’t basically a rule but we didn’t like keeping secrets. But if there was a need to, and if ever we would know we kept secrets, we would try to understand the situation, no matter how ugly it would be. “And the other one is Jason Ward,” she said even though I did not ask. “He’s Mason’s younger brother.” I did not take a look at Jason. My eyes were simply focused towards Mason who was grabbing a cup of ice cream. I looked at my now melted ice cream. He ate less while here I was pigging myself out. I took out my phone and a snapped a photo of him. Courtney gasped. “Did you just take a picture of him?” she asked, a horrified look on her face. “I just did.”