“I want to hear more about this new living situation of yours,” she demands, wiggling her brows. “Speaking of which, where is your hot roomie tonight?” “Dr. Pretty Boy? He went home to visit his family. I’ve got the house all to myself this weekend,” I brag, wiggling my shoulders. And that’s when it hits me. Like a sharp smack to the forehead. That is why I’ve been so gloomy all evening—Mason. I miss Mason. Fuck. Fuckety-fuck. I miss Mason. This is bad.
