Read Online The One Thing by Marci Lyn Curtis - Free Book Online Page A

them during another one of her
surprise-attack hugs. She did not, in point of fact, reek of dog crap. She smelled vaguely of incense and peppermint and kindness. As soon as she pulled away from me, she led me to a set of metal
bleachers, next to—to my complete and utter humiliation—Mason. Seeing as how I’d shown up at his house last night wearing a Loose Cannons T-shirt and poorly faking my blindness, I
figured he thought I was a lunatic fan who had weaseled my way into his life by pretending to be blind so his little brother would take pity on me. Which was mortifying even though it wasn’t
true.
    All right, so maybe the lunatic fan part was true. I mean, if I happened to stumble upon a hint today that helped direct me to the next Loose Cannons concert...well, let’s just say I
wouldn’t be upset.
    At any rate, Mason failed to acknowledge me when I said hello. Actually, check that; he acknowledged me by immediately sliding away from me, presumably cramming himself next to some woman,
because I heard a surprised little “Oh!” as he moved.
    I chatted idly with Mrs. Milton, keeping tabs on Mason with my senses (while appearing not to be keeping tabs on Mason with my senses). I could practically feel the aggravation crawling out of
his pores, could hear his choppy, annoyed breaths.
    Honestly.
    Sure, he’d become something of an instant celebrity recently, but just how arrogant was he to believe I’d come to the swim meet just to be around him? I silently fumed, tapping my
foot in time with the
swoosh-swoosh-swoosh-swoosh
of the swimmers cutting through the water. Mason’s aversion to me was maddening, frustrating, and...well, sort of absorbing. Did he
really believe I was a crazed fan, or did he just find me atrocious-looking? Probably a little of both. I didn’t bother with makeup anymore. There were too many little bottles and too many
little tubes and too many little opportunities to turn myself into a clown.
    Whatever the reason, Mason refused to speak to me. He did, however, exchange pleasantries with another spectator and offered a hand to what sounded like a little girl who was struggling up the
bleachers. “Whoa, there,” he said, and I felt the bleachers rise slightly as he stood. There was something genuine in Mason’s voice. Something authentic. It made me feel strange
for some reason—either hurt or confused or exposed. I didn’t know what it was, exactly, except that there was a lot of it.
    I grumbled under my breath for letting him get under my skin. Mason was not just a complete egotistical jerk—he was a complete egotistical jerk who obviously believed that I idolized him.
And he was dead wrong. Sure, I loved his music. And yes, I’d likely give up my right kidney to learn the location of his band’s next concert. And of course, I thought he had an amazing
voice. But that didn’t mean I
worshiped
him, that didn’t mean I’d go to such ridiculous lengths just to be near him.
    Mrs. Milton nudged me with her elbow. “Ben’s race should be coming up any second.”
    “Yeah?” I said, glancing covertly at Ben. He stood next to the pool, his entire body rocking with laughter as Teddy made faces at him. “Has he always loved to swim?” I
asked, reaching down to scratch my calf. In my haste, I inadvertently brushed my arm against Mason’s. It was the smallest of touches and lasted only a fraction of a second, but something
inside me lurched as a sharp bolt of electricity reverberated between us. I jerked away and folded my arms across my chest.
    “Actually,” Mrs. Milton said, her voice slightly guarded, “a few months ago Ben went through a bit of a swimming funk because of a falling out with another kid on the
team.”
    I felt my mouth drop open. “Ben had a
falling out
? For real?”
    Mrs. Milton muttered, “It was a girl.”
    “Ah.”
    “Ben had a huge crush on her,” Mrs. Milton explained, “and you know how Ben is when he likes someone. He goes all out, even