Blindspot (Daydream, Colorado Book 1) Page 22

  Mason raised a brow.

  Drew ducked in quickly and smacked a kiss to his chapped lips. “Let’s get going,” he declared.

  Mason’s jaw dropped open, and he followed Drew’s moving form with his head, mouth tingling. “You… Drew Daley!”

  Drew ignored him and got in the passenger side of the car.

  “Are you coming?” Malachi called out of the window.

  “I’m going to kill them both,” Mason muttered on his way to the driver’s side.

  The atmosphere in the car was strained… to put it nicely.

  Mason was… not exactly sulking. He just didn’t want to look at Drew’s stupid kissing face right now as he fiddled around with every god damned thing in the car. And he could swear Malachi’s eyes were staring at the back of his head, but every time he looked in the rearview, the witch was fiddling with some odd thing or other that he pulled out of his endless pockets.

  He saw Drew reach for the radio next and slapped his hand away.

  “Hey!” he complained. “Do you really want to sit in silence this whole time?”

  “There’s a thing called conversation.”

  “You wanna talk?”

  Mason ignored him.

  “Right,” he snorted, then turned around in his seat. “Malachi, do you wanna talk?”

  Mason caught a glimpse of Mal looking blankly in Drew’s direction. The other turned back around hastily. “Got it,” he muttered with a hint of a pout.

  Mason hid his smile by looking out at the wing mirror. He was annoyed dammit.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to drive,” Drew said after another ten minutes had lapsed, and he couldn’t stay still or silent any longer.

  Mason turned a glare on him. “I can drive just fine, thanks for the concern.”

  “Not outside of Daydream. Ever,” Drew said pointedly.

  Mason huffed, but it wasn’t as forceful as he wanted it to be. Drew’s words began to set in, and Mason was struck with a realization that had been lost under exhaustion over glances and fears about Drew…

  He had left Daydream.

  The Welcome sign had ticked over a mile back.

  “Mason?”

  He swallowed. “I’m fine. Roads aren’t different out here, I assume?” he asked sarcastically.

  “Well, they don’t have magical stop signs,” he said flippantly.

  “Just… navigate. If we get lost, it’s your fault,” he declared, gripping resolutely at the wheel.

  Honestly, as much as he was driving into the great big unknown, if Mason didn’t have the road to concentrate on, he might go crazy inside his own head… Which was probably exactly how Drew was feeling.

  He glanced at Drew from the corner of his eye and noticed his leg twitching nervously as he played around with the contents of the glove compartment for the third time. He was looking for a distraction too. All that nervous energy from this morning was now caged inside this car with no outlet.

  “We’ll trade over when we stop for lunch,” he said, then reached out before Drew could comment to switch the radio on, raising the volume.

  Mason managed a solid three hours before he could feel the muscles in his legs and back seizing up. He pulled over into the next gas station as he contemplated just how long they had left, consulting the GPS Drew had set up on his phone and trying to make out heads from tails.

  “We have about another six hours until we reach the motel,” Drew said for him, as if noticing him struggling. He had finally settled into some form of calm… Mason had no idea if it was real or not.

  “Let’s stretch our legs and grab some food then,” Mason said, swerving past the gas pumps that looked strange and unfamiliar. Cars in Daydream didn’t run on something so inefficient and damaging and hadn’t for decades.

  They exited the car, Mal silently walking off on his own, god only knew where. Mason decided his sugar count was too low to deal with the puppy eyes Drew was throwing his way, so he entered the gas station. He took a moment to glance around at the decidedly non-self-stacking shelves before he headed straight for the candy aisle.

  “Are you still pouting because I kissed you in public?” Drew asked, coming up from behind him.

  Mason jumped, dropping the king-sized chocolate bar back into the display box.

  “What the hell, Drew! Don’t sneak up on me like that,” he growled in an undertone, spinning around the face him.

  “Are you?”

  Yes. No. I don’t know. I loved it, but I hated it.

  They were thoughts he couldn’t articulate. As he was wrestling with himself, he spotted the cashier staring interestedly at them. He blushed and skirted around Drew hastily, but was caught as Drew grabbed his arm, preventing him from leaving the aisle.

  “What is with you today? People are watching,” Mason whispered, trying to break free.

  “So? I’m sure they’ve seen much stranger things than this, trust me.”

  Mason wiggled free. “I’m going to wait by the car.”

  He practically ran outside, face heated as he contemplated Drew’s wild mood swings. Mal was waiting there, looking nonplussed as ever. He was toying with a daisy chain, of all things, that was wrapped around his wrist.

  “Where did you get that?” he asked waspishly.

  “My pocket. It’s the middle of winter, where do you think I got it?” he asked dryly.

  “It has a preservation charm on it,” he answered for himself, running a hand over his face.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t drive again for a while,” the witch suggested.

  “You could always take over,” he suggested.

  “You think I know how to drive?” Mal asked, face scrunched in distaste.

  “It’s a useful skill.”

  “For some, perhaps. I had other things to tend to while you were sitting through driver’s ed,” Mal said, not elaborating. “Are we leaving now?”

  Mason opened his mouth.

  “There’s a diner over there,” Drew said. Mason snapped his mouth closed and looked over his shoulder towards him. He had a small bag full of something in his hand now, and he was pointing to the building about twenty feet away with the free one. “We can grab a table—”

  “No, that’ll take too long. We’ll grab something quick and get back on the road,” Mason cut off.

  “Malachi, wouldn’t you like to sit down and have a meal?” Drew asked.

  “I have no preference,” Mal said without tone.

  “Well, I do,” Drew retorted.

  “Why are you being so insistent?” Mason asked, confused.

  “Because…” He seemed to be struggling to find an answer. His face went red. “Because I don’t see why we have to eat on the road when we don’t have to.”

  “It’ll just delay us,” Mason argued. “We’re going to be driving all day as it is…” An idea occurred as the whole day clicked into place. “… unless you want to delay us. Are you trying to buy time?”

  Drew got into the driver’s side of the car instead of answering.

  “I believe that was a yes,” Mal leaned forwards to tell him.

  “Insightful. Thank you,” Mason said flatly.

  He got into the passenger side, feeling guilty already and hating it. He kept forgetting how hard this must be on Drew, driving towards an uncertain future that would irrevocably change his life.

  Drew handed him the bag he had without looking at him, starting up the car without a word. Mason looked inside and sighed. The big idiot. He had bought him three bars of the chocolate he had been looking at.

  “Thank you,” he murmured.

  “You’re welcome,” Drew said back, backing up the car.

  “We can go sit in the diner if you want,” he offered. An olive branch.

  “It’s fine. I’ll pull us into a drive thru,” Drew said.

  Mason bit his lip. “We can grab dinner when we get to the motel instead?”

  Drew glanced at him finally with those soulful eyes of his. “Me and yo
u?”

  Mason flicked a glance back towards Malachi, feeling like a coward.

  “I can make my own dinner plans. I don’t require escorting to meals like a five-year-old,” he got as an immediate reply.

  When Mason looked back around, Drew was still staring at him expectantly. He looked down at the chocolate in his lap. It was a bad idea. They had rules.

  “We’ll all eat together, it’s weird to sit at two separate tables,” he finally said.

  Coward.

  Drew didn’t say it, but as he turned away, jaw clenching under his beard, he knew he was thinking it.

  By the time they reached the motel it was fully dark, and the atmosphere in the car was as chilly as outside. Mason was tired, and hungry, and on edge. He didn’t know which one was the more pressing concern.

  He couldn’t make out the motel fully in the dark, it was dimly lit, but it was a white two-story building with a wraparound railing on the upper floor. He could make out about twenty different doors, all numbered, and off to the side was a smaller building that had a Reception sign above it.

  They headed that way, crunching gravel and grit under their shoes, and gratefully stepped into the motel reception area. It was a tiny room sectioned by a wall that had a rectangle cut out acting as the desk. An older lady was standing behind there, watching the tv that was mounted on the wall.

  She looked over when they approached. “Welcome to Ivy Motel, do you have a reservation or are you just passing through?” she asked in a croaky voice.

  “Just passing through,” Drew said. It was the first thing he had said in about three hours, barring one-word answers when they took a few more stops for bathroom breaks. “We only need it for the night.”

  “How many rooms?” the motel owner asked, already heading towards the door leading towards the back.

  “Two should suffice,” Malachi said.

  It took Mason a crucial second to comprehend. “Tw—No! No, no. Three rooms!” Mason called after her, but she was already gone. He turned to the witch who was looking bored already. “I don’t know what kind of idea you got, Mal—”

  “Hardly an idea,” Mal said dryly. He looked around the room, clearly finding it lacking. It wasn’t quite Dragon’s Rest. “This place smells strange. I’m going to wait outside.”

  Mason was silent even after Malachi had left the room.

  “So, we can’t even share a room in a motel now? You know, I’m having trouble remembering all these rules,” Drew said acerbically from behind him.

  “We’re not together,” Mason fired back as he whirled back around, face hot.

  Drew scoffed. “You’ve made that painfully clear, thank you for the reminder though. I’ll add it to the list.”

  “I don’t know why you’re acting like this,” Mason accused.

  “Me?” Drew exclaimed, closing the space between them and towering over him. “You’re the one that can’t bear to be seen with me in public!”

  “That’s not true, and you know it. You can’t just go around kissing me and giving everyone the wrong impression,” Mason declared.

  Drew swooped down and pressed a hot kiss to his mouth, and Mason automatically wrapped his arms around his neck, drawing him in deeper. The instinct to push him back didn’t even occur to him.

  “This impression?” Drew whispered against his mouth.

  Mason stuttered a breath and captured his bottom lip between his, both to shut him up, and because he couldn’t not do it.

  “Is it two rooms after all then?” the motel owner asked, a hint of humor in her voice.

  Drew pulled away, though not far. Staring directly into Mason’s eyes, daring him to disagree, he said, “Yes.”

  Mason stayed silent, heart hammering. He felt backed into a corner, and as the motel owner went to grab their keys, he realized he had no way out. And as he looked up into Drew’s eyes, he wasn’t sure he wanted one.

  “Are you ready to order?” the blond waiter chirped as he stopped by their table, flashing a friendly smile at them.

  They were sitting in a booth towards the back of a small, all night diner across the street from their motel. It looked forgotten by the world from the outside, but the inside was warm and cozy despite the worn leather on the seats and the flickering light in the corner above the counter. It was half empty this time of night, ten in the evening not really peak eating time, but the two waiters working were bustling around with a spring in their step. And whatever was cooking in the kitchen smelled really good after a day of drive-thru meals and snacks.

  Malachi was nowhere to be seen.

  “We’re waiting for a friend, so could we have a few more minutes?” Mason asked, and the young man nodded in agreement.

  “No problem, I’ll be back with you in a bit,” he said, turning to walk away to check in on a few other guests. Drew turned to look at Mason and found him glassy eyed, reaching his hand towards the waiter.

  “Wait…” Mason said, and Drew covered his hand with his own, effectively silencing his attempt to call the man back.

  “Glance?” he asked, and Mason shook his head, refocusing and nodding as he looked after the waiter.

  “Yeah… just let me…”

  “You can’t tell him, Mase…” he said slowly, and Mason stared at him in confusion.

  “Why not? He’s gonna drop everything he’s carrying!” he said, frantically shifting his eyes between the young man and Drew.

  “And that sucks. But we’re not in a magical community. People don’t have glances out here,” he said, and realization dawned on Mason’s face shaping his lips into a tiny O and widening his eyes.

  “Oh…”

  “Yup…” Drew said just as a loud clatter sounded from the direction of the kitchen, glass shattering and people gasping in both regret and annoyance.

  “Well, this sucks,” he complained, slumping back into the worn leather.

  Drew nodded. “I know. But it’s how it is,” he said just as his phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out to check it and tilted his head. “Interesting.”

  “What?”

  “It’s Mal.” He flicked his eyes up to observe Mason’s reaction as he said, “He’s not coming.”

  “Why? What happened?” Mason asked, a slightly panicked look on his face.

  “Nothing. He literally said, and I quote I don’t want to come,” Drew recited the text he had received. Mason tilted his head to the side and sighed. His body language changed instantly.

  “Yeah, that sounds like him,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest in a way that was now familiar to Drew. Like he was putting a protective barrier between himself and the world.

  “Not your favorite person, huh?” Drew asked. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for Mason to be irritated with someone, but this thing with Mal seemed to be deeper.

  “I don’t mind him… he’s just…” he trailed off, shrugging his shoulders, and Drew tilted his head in question.

  “He’s just what?”

  Mason glared for a split second before answering. “He’s self-absorbed. He’s this, enigmatic, interesting, smart person who has an important job, and somehow, in his mind, that means he can just… do whatever he likes.”

  “Is he always like that?” Drew asked, interested to learn more. It took his mind off more frightening topics. “I don’t really remember much of him from back in school, except that he used to be in advanced classes and alone a lot.”

  “He's still smarter than everyone else and spends a lot of time alone.” Mason nodded. “We’re on the council together… when he deems it important enough to show up that is.”

  “Being Head Witch probably keeps him busy,” Drew said diplomatically.

  Mason snorted and continued on like he hadn’t heard him, “He has an apprentice that, while lovely, is an absolute mess. He has a shop he barely spends any time in. I just… I don’t have time for people who put themselves above everything. Other people matter. Social norms matter. You can’t just be a dick
and go away for days on end without caring what anyone else thinks. It just… It touches other people too.”

  He fell silent, eyes wide as if he didn’t really mean to say it all out loud, but Drew heard the underlying meaning there, and it suddenly made sense. This wasn’t really about Malachi himself. Mason’s parents were just as eccentric as the Head Witch, only less responsible, and Mason had caught the brunt of it. Being near someone who reminded you of the people who hurt you the most must be like walking through thorn bushes.

  “I bet it does wonders for his life and business then… being like that,” Drew said, trying to lighten up the mood.

  “You’d think so but… no. People don’t go to him for friendly conversations and coddling.”

  “I figured as much.”

  “He’s really good at what he does,” Mason said, reaching for his glass and sipping his water. He put it back down a bit too forcefully, and a few drops splashed on the old tablecloth. “I respect his talent and what he does. I think he must be a decent person to be as respected as he is. I just…”

  “Don’t like him?” Drew finished for him and Mason shrugged.

  “Everyone else does, so I don’t think he’s too hurt by it.”

  Drew chuckled before they fell into a tense silence while they glanced at their menus.

  “Should we order then?” Drew asked, and Mason gave it a moment of thought before seemingly relenting and nodding. He caught the eye of their waiter, who still looked a tiny bit frazzled after dropping however many dishes he’d been carrying and flagged him over.

  Their orders were placed in seconds, and then awkward silence fell over them again. Drew tried and failed to catch Mason’s eye, watching silently as the man across from him observed their surroundings with the type of vested interest that would have put an artist to shame. It was so painfully forced that Drew couldn’t help feeling the irritation against the wound that had begun to open up inside him with every you should go, with every avoided kiss, with the way Mason couldn’t even look at him sometimes without glancing around them first.

  And Drew couldn’t help testing the boundaries in response, pushing against Mason’s shields purposefully. Between bouts of panic and blinding fear of where they were going, he was occupying himself with poking and prodding at the rules. It was frustrating how little give there was.