Song: Toxic Remix — Britney Spears

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I loved mathematics because it was a the science of patterns. And the most beautiful and intricate and complex pattern was nothing other than human life.

Mason Valdez was disrupting the pattern of my life.

He was tearing apart the fabric without the slightest apology, unravelling the millions of cotton threads I held on to so dearly.

He was not alone.

A beautiful girl with caramel skin and dark hair draping over her shoulders was with him. Her short dress was a fully sequined rose gold. Something stirred inside me at the sight of them together.

What was he doing here?

Not far away from him, I recognised Logan, and he was with a girl too. Maybe I was thinking too far into it. It was probably just a coincidence.

Plus, it was a public space. He was allowed to go anywhere he wanted.

Then why did I feel like my insides were burning?

Mason caught my eye, his gaze lowering to my hands around Caleb. He glowered. Then, he began walking up to us, the beautiful girl at his side beside him.

I tensed against Caleb.

"You okay?" Caleb asked, sensing it.

"I—"

"She's fine," Mason answered for me. "Maybe if you'd stop dancing like a pendejo, she'd be better."

I glared at Mason, open-mouthed. What the heck was a pendejo anyway?

"Dumbass," Mason translated for me, a slight smirk on his lips.

Shit, I said it out loud. Was there something in that Mojito?

"Nope," Caleb said, a faint smile on his lips, "it was definitely alcohol free."

Shit, did I say that out loud as well?

"Yes," all three of them said at once, and that pretty dark-haired girl joined in this time. Mason's date.

"Hi!" She smiled at me. "I'm Gabriella."

I didn't have time to respond to her.

"What are you doing here, Gabby?" Caleb said, glaring at Mason.

Gabby? He knew her? Maybe they went to school together, or something.

She focused her attention on him. Something about the way she did it— the way she blinked a little faster when she stared at Caleb...

She liked him.

"Mason called me up, and said it was urgent?" she said, a little confused herself.

Mason smirked, completely unabashed by everything. He, the master orchestrator, seemed to be the only one who wasn't confused.

Caleb glared at Mason, and the two had an unspoken conversation between both angry and amused eyes.

"Blondie, aren't you getting a little bored of Caleb?" Mason quipped, then.

I scowled at him. "Actually, I—"

"Partner swap!" Mason announced, nudging Gabby toward Caleb. She moved, though a little hesitant at first.

I stayed rooted to my spot, clenching my jaw at what he was doing. Caleb frowned too, but didn't make any attempt to fight back at the situation. He disappeared from my line of sight.

Mason was standing in front of me now, smirking at the look I had on my face. God, he was insufferable.

Was he trying this hard just to ruffle his brother's feathers over some petty feud they had between them?

It seemed pretty one-sided to me. Caleb hadn't said a single foul word to Mason, and he'd had at least a dozen opportunities.

"How is your hand?" he asked, completely changing the subject.

"My hand?" I frowned.

"Yes," he said, reaching down to grab my hand, "how is it?"

He traced the pad of his thumb over the skin of my palm. Slowly. Tentatively.

My breath got stuck in my throat. I was about to pull away when I realized he was just looking at the hand I'd gotten pieces of glass into.

It was healing surprisingly quickly, although faint white scars were forming.

"It's fine," I said, then, finally pulling away, "What do you care, anyway?"

His eyes fell to me, hooded and brooding. A soft, low growl escaped his lips. Like a storm was roiling under his skin, and he was about to let it loose.

On me.

He closed in.

I took a tiny step backwards.

His eyes fell to the misplaced strands of hair that had come undone from my low bun to frame the sides of my face.

"Your hair..." he murmured, and I thought he had reached out to touch the side of my face, then quickly retracted. "It looks...different."

I frowned, the words falling from my lips before I refrain.

"Good different, or...?"

I inwardly chastised myself for it. Why did I care what he thought? What difference would his opinion make?

Mason didn't answer. He just stalked closer.

"How did you know we were here?" I asked, in a feeble attempt to delay his advances.

It didn't work.

He edged even closer, without a word.

"You want me to leave?" he asked. "Say the word and I'll be gone."

I wanted him to go. But did I really?

"No." I decided. I still hadn't figured him out yet. "Don't leave."

Suddenly, his hands were on my sides. I had to stop myself from jumping at his touch.

His fingers seemed to know the precise location of my hip bones, and he kneaded gently, right through the silk fabric of the dress and to the flesh.

I closed my eyes, turning to liquid under his touch.

Everything was hot.

I couldn't breathe.

"Mason—"

Without warning, he pulled me close, our hips just touching.

I flinched, my hands flat palmed on his chest as I tried to compose myself. That scent of pine and cinnamon hit me again, consuming all my senses.

The music changed.

I didn't pull away.

His warm hands slowly inched higher, enveloping the contours of my waist. He leaned down, his lips faintly brushing my ear.

"Shh," he whispered.

Goosebumps rose on my flesh.

His voice was somehow still audible above the sounds and reverberations of music. Maybe it was because I was blocking everything out but him.

"Just...let me dance with you," he said.

I furrowed my brows. His moods seemed to change like the seasons. Bright and sunny with clear skies, and then before you knew it, you were being hit by an earthquake.

And damn, did this one rank high on the Richter scale.

I stared into his dark eyes, the glint in them daring me to speak. To utter something. Anything.

"What is wrong with you?" I asked, simply.

It was more an expression of exasperation. I didn't expect him to answer.

You're toxic I'm slipping under

The remix blared on in the background, a melodramatic cacophony of notes and synthesis.

Mason's smirk returned in full force, alluding to nothing good. The lights flashed in his eyes, masking the golden flicks in shades of red.

With a taste of a poison paradise

"A lot more is wrong than what's right with me, blondie," he said, his lips far too close to my face.

I'm addicted to you

"But if the world was run simply by wrong and right," he continued, "half of us would be dead or in prison."

I frowned at him.

He lips neared the side of my face, nearly my hairline, before he spun me, and I widened my eyes, my cheeks heating up faster than a microwave oven.

Don't you know that you're toxic?

"What the hell do you think you're—" I started.

But Mason just winked, dipping me down so that my heart took a temporary vacation from my ribcage.

And I love what you do

The air flew out of my lungs as I returned flush against his chest. His warm, soft grip on my hand never faltered.

Don't you know that you're toxic?

His touch was fire brought to life. Where Caleb was soft and calculated, Mason was coarse and cunning, fast and furtive. He had a sort of dark charisma. 

And the wild look he had in his eyes. Of triumph and glory and the closest thing to happiness I'd ever seen on Mason in the short time I'd known him.

"Blondie, you okay?"

I nodded, still in a daze.

It was a lie. I was far from okay.

Dancing with him was...different.

Good different or bad different? My mind asked me.

A little bit of both, I decided.

My heart seemed to be knocking on my ribcage, my breaths shallow. A curl spiralled through my stomach. I felt feverish hot all over, but then again I was shivering slightly as well.

My body didn't know how to react.

How to react to him. 

My mind didn't know how to process him.

How to chew and swallow, and spit out a label that said either "good" or "bad."

My eyes flitted across the crowded dance floor, where Caleb was smiling at something Gabby said. I remembered why and for who I'd come, and I separated myself from Mason abruptly.

He said nothing, though I thought hurt had momentarily flashed in his eyes.

But when I blinked, fractions of that disinterested gaze he wore so often had returned, and I had enough of it. 

I walked over to the bar, taking a seat.

"Hey." Someone had poked me gently. I turned. Caleb.

I smiled. "Hey."

"So I know we didn't get to spend much time together," he said, "but I have an online conference in fifteen minutes. It's urgent."

My smile dissipated. "You're leaving?"

Caleb looked genuinely disappointed. "Yeah. Sorry. I've called my driver for you, so you're free to leave anytime you want."

I nodded. At least he'd been sweet about it. "Sure."

"I'll make it up to you," he said, offering me that pearly white smile. "I promise."

"Go," I said, because he was too nice for his own good. "I'll be fine."

I wasn't sure I would be.

I stared at my phone, and that awful feeling hit.

That apprehension of not feeling like you belonged where you were, of a personalised metal cage slowly forming around you, that feeling of being surrounded by people but feeling so incredibly...

alone.

I opened up a stupid game on my phone to look like I was busy, my eyes tearing up.

God, not now. I was supposed to be strong. This was supposed to be a night of revelation, a night for me to sink into New York routine before I officially started with college.

But all I wanted was to be at home surrounded by my wall covered in pictures of young Leonardo Dicaprio, watching a movie or reading a book.

Geez, Ever. It was not the time for these weak ass tears. Get your shit together, you beotch!

I smiled a little. Even my inner monologue was beginning to sound like Rhia. I really wished she was here.

I tried blinking the tears away but they were as stubborn as me, some landing on my phone screen. I attempted wiping them away inconspicuously. I was about to text Rhia when a male voice interrupted me.

"Hey, beautiful."

I looked up, frantically wiping at my face.

The man's face was a bit of a blur at first, but as my eyesight cleared I took note of his features. Light hair, and relatively attractive. I couldn't make out the color of his eyes.

Not good. My mind screamed. Not good at all.

"Uh, hey," I said with a frown.

He smiled, his face flushed. "Can I get you a drink?" he asked, obviously already drunk.

"No thanks," I said, moving a little away from him, more toward the edge of my seat.

"C'mon," he slurred, "you look like you're having a rough time."

He picked up the beer bottle in his hand, moving closer to me.

"I'm good," I muttered, opening up my call log frantically.

"Just a little," he said.

Before I could register what was going on, he was forcing the bottle to my lips, squeezing my chin with his other hand.

I caught the gaze of the bartender, who completely ignored me. What the hell?

Realising I was in this alone, I bucked against the man's hold, spitting out the bitter tasting liquid as glass hit my teeth, inducing pain. I pushed at him with my hands, but he had the upper hand in strength, dragging me off my seat.

I screamed, but it just mixed with the sound of music. I threw my clenched fist back, swinging it straight into his damn face.

It collided evenly with the bridge of his nose, and some wild delight erupted inside of me at the sight.

"Bitch!" he yelled.

Take that, you piece of shit.

My knuckles hurt like hell, and I was pretty sure some of them had split.

I didn't care.

I turned on my heel and started running. But I couldn't get far— people were everywhere. The man grabbed my shoulder, and some of my hair, dragging me backwards. I screamed and kicked as his hand neared my chest.

And then it stopped. His grip on me loosened, but not completely.

Even the music seemed to recede into a dull, grey ache.

I turned.

Rage.

Pure, blazing rage stilled Mason's face.

It stole my breath, and for a second everything seemed to come to a standstill.

His jaw was clenched, his face a sheet of deadly calm.

"Get your hands off of her."

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