I Wish You The Best

26 - Delilah

I watch the door close in his wake, wishing he would've just talked to me.

From the second he turned from his mother, I could tell that he had put up another wall. We both knew that it would be hard, but both of us had hope. I just wish I could've shielded him from it or at most helped him through his feelings.

I know we both tether on an edge of uncertainty between one another but everything else aside, he's a person who's hurting and I'm someone who can't just let that go.

I stand up from fixing my silk pillowcases, smiling at his reaction to them earlier.

When we were together in college, I went to some of his away games and we'd have this routine every time we'd enter a hotel. He'd bring our stuff to the room, settle it in the corner and then drop a kiss on my forehead on his way out to help the rest of the team with luggage to give me space to do my thing. I wouldn't say I'm a super neat freak but rather find hotel rooms to be gross, so I spend a few minutes wiping stuff down and changing the pillowcases.

I do what I can.

I try not to worry about the fact he's probably going down to the bar to drink, knowing I'd much prefer him to talk it out instead of drink it out but I don't really know if I have that say anymore.

The bathroom is fairly clean and smells nice as I set out my toothbrush and some skincare. Taking advantage of the time Mason is out of the room, I lock the bathroom door to take a quick shower and clean up.

By the time I'm out of the shower, it's getting dark outside, making me already feel tired. I debate whether or not I should check on Mason but It hasn't been that long and he needs the space.

So instead I pull out a book and settle into the bed.

—

The door swings open as I'm just about to turn the page onto chapter ten. I tend to read fast when engrossed in a book and this book is something I couldn't put down. It's a dystopian book set in a doomsday bunker with two lovers being separated. It's addicting.

"Hey, sorry for just leaving." Mason steps into the room, dropping the room key on the desk by the TV on the wall. I quickly scan him, trying to work out how drunk he is, if at all. But he looks completely sober, eyes just tired and face painted.

"No worries, I got some reading in." I wave my book, smiling.

The heat of his stare burns a hole in my heart and I sit up as he comes to rest on the edge of the bed next to me. His long legs stretch out before him and he unties his sneakers, sighing, before dropping his arms to his knees.

"You good?" I ask.

"Yea, yea. I didn't even drink." He shakes his head and lets out a small laugh. "The guilt of even going to the bar after getting angry at my drug addict mom for choosing a vice over me was too much." His tone is sarcastic but hurt.

I sit up even more, feeling like I should be level with him. I swing my legs over the bed, ignoring the way his eyes rake up my bare legs. Maybe I should've worn sweatpants instead of shorts but I was choosing comfort here.

"Don't compare yourself to her. But I'm glad you didn't result to drinking."I try to soften my voice, not wanting to come across as bossy or judgemental. Even if he did drink it wouldn't have been a big deal, but a small part of me is happy he didn't.

Mason looks up at me, both of us inches apart from the limited space between our beds but the moment feels heavier all of the sudden. He stares at me like really stares at me and I find it hard to breathe.

"I'm really glad you're here, Del. Thank you." He says, voice barely above a whisper and I swallow.

I wish he wasn't so fucking handsome. His soft eyes pull me in without challenge and I trace the hard lines of his face with my own eyes, remembering just how beautiful this man is.