As soon as Tiffany left, Mason closed the distance between them, wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her into a deep, long kiss. The moment their lips met, her eyes fluttered shut, and she sank into him. Even after two months, he still tasted the same, like warm summer days.
Scarlett’s mother had said once that there was no such thing as love at first sight, but there was such a thing as love at first joke. Her father had swept her mother off her feet with his dry sense of humor, and even now, thirty years into the marriage, Marjorie Winter could look at her husband and remember in an instant why she loved him—even if she hated him at the moment.
For his part, Mason Gregory had hit Scarlett double: it had been love at first sight and first joke.
They had met at a Kappa/Pi Kappa Rho mixer, the Pikiki, where every Kappa girl wore a hula skirt over her bikini, and PiKas wore just the hula skirts. PiKas lei’ed any Kappa they fancied as they circulated through PiKa House, which was decorated like an island, complete with live palm trees and an inflatable water slide that extended from the roof to the pool. With a silly but charming joke about not getting laid that easily, Mason had refused to give Scarlett his lei; instead, he gave her a single plumeria from it. She’d lightly demanded the rest, but he told her about an island tradition. “A girl places a flower behind her right ear if she’s available and interested, behind her left if there’s no chance in hell.” She laughed and put the flower behind her right ear. They had been together ever since.
Scarlett had her own theory about love; to her, there was something more than humor, something more than looks. There was a rhythm to love, like there was a rhythm to a spell. And Mason and Scarlett had had that from the first second they met. There was nothing Scarlett felt more sure of in life than her place by Mason’s side. Or, rather, his place by hers.
He broke the kiss and stepped back to sweep his eyes over her, lingering where the buttons met the white lace of her bra and where her skirt grazed her thighs. “You look incredible, as always. How do you do it? Seriously, I’ve never seen you have so much as a bad hair day.”
“Magic, of course.” She winked.
He didn’t know she wasn’t joking. Ravens were sworn to secrecy. Only members and alumnae like Scarlett’s mother and sister knew they were really a sorority full of witches. Mason had a fondness for history, and in another life he would have relished the rich witch lore that surrounded her people. His room at the frat was filled with biographies, most of which weren’t listed on any syllabus. He would have loved knowing how magic had shaped the world and who in history had been a witch, subtly guiding civilization forward. But the rules were clear; he could never, ever know. There were times when the secret sat between them like a steel wedge, but as much as Scarlett loved Mason, as much as she wished he could know all of her, she would never betray her sisters.
“You don’t look half bad yourself. You’re so tan. Let me guess, you got stuck on Jotham’s yacht again?” she said. Jotham was a fellow PiKa and Mason’s best friend. And he was the reason that Mason had gotten stuck across the pond. Jotham had taken Mason along to his brother’s wedding and the rest was summer-vacation history. She reminded herself to cast a spell on Jotham later as punishment.
Mason shook his head. “No, I skipped the yacht. It turns out Portugal has a killer surf scene.”
“I didn’t realize you were an aspiring beach bum.” Scarlett kept her voice light, but she was irked. She hadn’t known Mason was interested in surfing. Why hadn’t he texted her about it? The past few weeks had been so chaotic that they’d barely had a chance to talk. But Scarlett being swamped at her internship was different from him being busy surfing.
Mason grinned. “Jotham took the yacht on to Ibiza with some girl he met at the wedding. I didn’t want to third-wheel it. I don’t know what came over me, but I hopped on the Eurail. I even stayed in a hostel a few nights.”
Her eyebrows shot skyward. “You stayed in a hostel? Over a yacht?” Jotham’s family’s yacht was practically a cruise ship.
“It really wasn’t that bad.”
“Are you sure you didn’t bring home bedbugs?” She eyed him suspiciously, which made him burst into laughter.
“I wish you’d been there. You would have liked it.”
Scarlett wrinkled her nose. “A hostel? Yeah, I don’t think so.”
“Honestly, Scar, it felt like being in one of those subtitled movies that you like,” Mason said.
“You hate those movies,” she protested lightly. He always said that if he wanted to read, he’d pick up a book.
His voice turned serious. “It was different from all those family vacations or friend vacations we have to go on. There were no walking tours, no galas, no yachts, no expectations . . . none of it. I made my own map. I set my own schedule. I decided who I wanted to see, where I wanted to go. I felt . . . free.” He was speaking faster, like he always did when he got excited about something. Only usually he was really excited about Kant, or The Iliad, or the Dow. If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought he was spelled.
“You almost sound like you wish you’d stayed out there,” she blurted.
Mason’s expression was thoughtful. “A part of me wishes I could have. But only if you were with me, of course,” he added hurriedly. “Everything here just feels so . . . predetermined. Do you know what I mean?”
Scarlett raised an eyebrow. “No. What are you talking about?”
Mason groaned. “All the internships and clerkships and extra degrees. My dad takes for granted that I want to follow in his footsteps and be a lawyer.”
“I thought you wanted those things.” I thought we wanted those things. Part of what she loved about Mason was his ambition. It almost rivaled hers. They’d had it all planned out since their one-month anniversary: they’d go to the same law school, preferably Harvard, then come back for their internships at their parents’ firms, and when they had enough experience, they’d break away and start their own firm.
“I know . . . I thought I did too. But maybe . . .” He paused and sighed, as if searching for the right words. “I don’t know. There are, like, a million other careers and startups out there that only require you to have a computer and Wi-Fi connection. Have you ever thought of just saying ‘fuck it’ to our parents and Westerly and leaving this all behind?”
Scarlett narrowed her eyes. A startup? Was he Mark Zuckerberg now? “Everything I’ve ever wanted is right here. Kappa. You. Our families. Bumming around the world is for people who don’t know where they’re going in life. That’s not us.”
Mason shrugged and fiddled with a frayed rope bracelet around his wrist that Scarlett had never seen before.
“Mason, is everything okay?” She was quiet as she stared at him. Sometimes being quiet was more powerful than talking. Some people couldn’t bear silence, and Mason was one of them. He had to fill it like a candle had to fill the dark.
Finally, he looked up and smiled at her. “Of course I’m okay. I’m with you.” He leaned over and gave her another light kiss, then shook his head slightly. “I’m sorry I’m being weird. I’m just jet-lagged and my head is still back in the waves.” He slipped his fingers through hers and pulled her close.