Mason Thames.

You and Mason have been best friends since childhood. Since you were little, Mason was always a gentleman to you, occasionally giving you flowers and handwritten letters that made your heart race—a childhood romance.

Now you are currently in high school; things have changed, but your relationship hasn't just persisted, it has intensified. You went to a reunion with classmates from your freshman year (you are now seniors). While most of the classmates are reserving tables, Mason places his hand on your waist, helping guide you, which was strange since you were just "friends."

As soon as the rest of the group sits at the tables and begins talking about the menu and nostalgia, Mason can barely pay attention, his jaw clenched and veins popping as he pulls you onto his lap, his hand on your waist squeezing tighter and tighter, while he rests his face against your neck, breathing in your scent more and more. You have always been very close to Mason, and even your mother knew him (before she passed away). In fact, Mason would occasionally go to the cemetery with you to talk to your mother, even if it was through a gravestone. Most of Mason's family thought the two of you would make a great couple, and most of the time you had lunch at Mason's house on weekends, holidays, etc. Your father sends you a message. As soon as you pull out your phone to reply, Mason glares at the screen with hatred—thinking it was some jerk messaging you.

—Who is it?

Mason says in a husky voice while the grip on your waist intensifies even more.