There’s some enthusiastic clapping, and I can hear Karen calling out something stupid as if she’s gonna get the money all for herself.
I wonder if she even understands how this auction works. That she has to actually put in some time somewhere to help other people for a change.
Looking up at the screen, I don’t recognize the charity. It sounds more like a business name.
Weird.
Looking back at Mason, he hasn’t taken his eyes off me since he sat down, and I ask him if everything’s alright.
“Everything’s perfect,” he says, and flashes me that look again.
A look that’s starting to make me feel like I wanna lift this dress up some, and let a little of this heat out.
But I only flush harder, absently picking up a menu.
“I already ordered for us both,” he says, leaning in again. “I hope that’s okay?”
I smile nervously, and without even seeing my face I know it’s a creepy smile.
I’m just not used to anything like this, and Mason almost looks concerned again. But then he smiles that magical smile of his.
It seems nothing can faze Mason Thorne.
Our table, being the important one, is served first and the food looks amazing.
Small on huge plates, but amazing. I wait for a signal so I know what to do next. I don’t want to start eating before anyone else, especially before Mason.
But there’s another announcement. It seems someone else wants to bid big on Karen Perkins.
For goodness sake.
I feel suddenly ill and I push my plate away.
Why is that cow getting any attention? She probably doesn’t even know where she is by now.
Looking over at Mason, he’s taken his phone out with the auction app open.
My heart lurches into the pit of my stomach when I see it’s him who’s bidding so much… on Karen.
I feel so hurt, betrayed even. But I try to remind myself, it’s his auction, he can bid whatever he wants.
Maybe he’s bidding that much on everyone?
I fight the feeling for as long as I can, and my plate gets taken away untouched. Mason asks me if everything’s alright but I look away, shifting in my seat so he can’t see my face.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer says in his deep baritone. “We only have one charity, one sponsor with no bids so far but at just over halfway we have raised a staggering one point eight million dollars combined for over two hundred charities.”
The applause is loud, deafening almost and it only makes me feel sicker.
I wonder who’s the only one who didn’t get a bid.
I don’t even have to look, I know it’s me.
Getting up, I eye the door again, and straight away Mason is at my side, his hand on my back.
“Jules? What’s the matter?” he asks me, full of concern. Worried looking.
“I have to use the ladies,” I lie and I move away from the table, but Mason isn’t letting me go that easily.
“Me too,” he says, and when I try and shoot him a hurt look, he gives me a charming smile, that I can’t help but laugh a little.
“You’re gonna come with me into the stall?” I ask, still surprised at how harsh I sound. How hurt I actually feel.
“Not unless you want me to,” he says, winking and then taking my arm, walking with me.
“What’s the matter, Jules? Should we just get outta here?” he asks.
The closer we come to the restrooms, in the lobby, the quieter it feels, and I notice how loud my own voice is when I blurt it out.
“Maybe you’d rather spend the evening with Karen Perkins!” I practically shout, turning on my heel and rushing into the ladies’ room, slamming a stall door closed behind me and starting to sob.
Feeling like a complete moron all over again.
What the hell is wrong with me? I must have a fever still. I’m acting like a lunatic today.
I try to cry, but the tears just won’t come. It’s like my heart’s not really in it anymore.
I manage a couple of dry croaks, but then I’m done.
A part of me shuts down, resigning myself to being fired or quitting. Either way, there’s no real comeback for acting like such a witch in front of Thorne Mason twice in one day.
I’ll get my things from the office Monday, right now I just want to go home and-
“Jules? Jules, c’mon out please.”
Crap.
It’s Mason, he’s actually in the ladies’ room.
I guess it is his building, he can do what he likes.
In a matter of seconds I’ve gone from jealous witch to blubbering schoolgirl to unemployed pessimist to feeling like I want to curl up and disappear, dying from embarrassment.
“Jules,” he says again, not asking this time.
Telling.
I feel that cord again, that invisible rope between us, pulling us closer together again.
No matter how hard I might be trying to ruin whatever is happening between me and Mason Thorne, he keeps coming back for more, and I can’t stay mad at him for more than two minutes.
I open the stall door. He waits patiently, leaning against the sink.
“Did you really need to go?” he asks, looking concerned. “I can wait outside.”
But I’m good. I sniffle some, then laugh a little.
“I have bid a high amount on Karen Perkins, yes,” he says, a matter of fact.
I sigh and make an ‘I understand’ face, but it still stings when I think about it.
“I’m asking you to trust me, Jules,” he continues. “Can you do that? I don’t have any interest in Karen Perkins. You’re my dinner date, in case you missed that part,” he adds.
I open my mouth, hoping some flash of brilliance will empower me with what I need to say to make this right, but he rescues me.
Again.
Moving in close, so close his whole front touches me, he presses a finger to my lips as I stare up at him.
“Just, trust me, okay?” he says softly.
I don’t need him to ask me twice. I’d leap off a roof if he told me to right now.
He takes his finger away,
