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kind of guy. The beach is filled with them. What surprised me though was the easy rapport he seemed to have with the half a dozen teenagers he was playing basketball with. I watched him give pointers to both sides as they battled three on three. By the hero worship in most of their eyes, it was glaringly obvious that he was well liked. I guess I'm the only lucky one that gets to deal with his douche bag attitude.
    Lucky me, I couldn't help thinking. For some reason, the thought bothered me more than necessary. "They get the nice guy and I get the asshole," I mumbled to myself.
    "What , sweetums?" Louise asked, heading out the door with her arms filled with linens.
    "Oh, nothing. I was just contemplating the irony of my current situation."
    "Situation?" she asked, raising her eyebrows questioningly.
    "Just stupid stuff," I answered, feeling dumb for even saying anything. It was one of my character flaws that I let words randomly come out of my mouth. My mom had teased me about it for years, saying I needed some kind of sensor on my lips. I was just one of those people who coul d never hide what I was feeling. W hat you see is basically what you get. I wasn't a fan of confrontations, but I was always the first to stick up for the underdog in almost any situat ion. Mom liked to call me her 'open b ook,' and even gave me a cute charm for my sixteenth birthday that was a sterling silver book that was open.
    " Mmm , I'm sur e those problems start with an M and end with an N ," she said, clicking her tongue. "Don't you worry yourself about him hone y. Your father is over the high- flying moon that you're here. Mason just wants to m ake sure your dad doesn't get hurt. Those two have a bond like peanut butter and chocolate. It's always been that way. Mason came here our first year open, a sullen kid, pissed at the world that he had wound up in foster care. Your father took him under his wing and showed h im he may have been dealt a man- sized bad deal, but he could man up and rise above it. By the time summer ended, there was no separating those two. You just give him time, he'll realize soon enough you're not here to hurt your dad," she said, shifting her load one last time before sauntering off.
    Her wo rds didn't have the reassuring e ffect on me that I know she was aiming for. Instead, I was hurt and jealous over the supposed bond my father shared with some belligerent guy who wasn't even blood related. I knew any outsider looking in would think I was a total bitch for feeling this way, and maybe I was, or maybe if Mason was halfway decent, I'd be more willing to accept it, but he was such a dick.
    Sick of him once again dominating my thoughts, I moved on, opening the appropriate bin in the stockroom and pulling out five pa ckages of white socks. There were n't any grocery bags around that I could find, so I stacked the slippery packages into my arms as best as I could, using my chin to try to keep them in place. As I headed back out into the hallway and through the dining hall, I was so intent on keeping the stack of socks from falling that I missed the obstacle coming through the door.
    "Oof," I gasped, dropping the packages to the floor.
    "Watch it , beach bunny," Mason said, bracing my upper arms with his hands to steady me before I could fall over.
    "You watc h it," I lashed back , trying to regain my footing. Why was it any time I was fumbling around like an idiot, he always managed to be around to see it. It was like I sent out some kind of incompetent radar signal or something. My traitorous heart betrayed me again, racing from our close proximity. I hated him. He ridiculed me, made me feel small, and yet, all I seemed to be able to do was think about how good he smelled. It should be against the law to be so freaking handsome and smell good at the same time. God could have at least cursed him with gross BO just to keep that ego in check.
    His hand s burned through the light long- sleeved shirt I was wearing. Glan cing