keep ( quiet ) -rose-

[MASON AVERY TODD]

{ lead me not into temptation }

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I CAN FIND IT MYSELF[/font][/center]

Mason liked to think that, by actually sitting down and picking up a book, he was preserving a lost art. It seemed like no one his age really made time for books anymore unless they were forced to by school. Even then, most people just resorted to SparkNotes or some such other electrical method. Books were just… outdated. Obsolete. Slow. He was the only one of his guy friends who would unplug from his iPod for a while and actually read something printed on paper instead of on a screen. It was soothing to him, engaging in this activity that people had done for hundreds of years.

Which was why, he reminded himself, he was not going to jump onto one of the school’s computers and look up porn.

It wasn’t like it would even work. The filters would likely block it, and if he was caught the librarians would string him up from the roof. And he had come here to read. He was better than this. He could at least wait until he got back to his room, for crying out loud. He was not a slave to the internet, no matter how accessible and cheap it made his secret hobby.

Mason’s ocean-blue eyes meandered off the page and wandered towards the nearest computer for the fifth time in the past few minutes. He caught himself halfway through and let out a sound of exasperation (though he kept it quiet—the librarians had the ears of wolves). He slumped into the cushiony reading chair and tilted his head back, eyes drifting shut. Was this really the kind of person he was turning into? Unable to be in a room with a computer without getting distracted by it and its illicit prospects? This must be how druggies feel like.

What was more, he hadn’t had any real sex in over two months. Hadn’t had to, with porn to keep him company. But lately he was getting so sick of it; he wanted a real person, not some pre-recorded image. He wanted one specific person—though his mind shied away from that thought before he could complete it. He wasn’t good enough for her, not really. She deserved someone as special as she was, and he just wasn’t up to that standard, not in his mind.

With a sigh, Mason opened his eyes and attempted to return to his book… only to freeze as his sight alighted on the very person he’d just been daydreaming about. He swallowed the sudden lump of anxiety that had formed in his throat and very carefully made himself relax. No moral dilemmas here, none at all, no siree. He was just here for a pleasant read.

[SUNDAY ROSE VALENTINE]

{Avoiding Humiliation}
is the core of tragedy and comedy.
-John Guare

Great fiction was something that Rose highly valued. She was a smart person who enjoyed learning things, but fiction was something else entirely—good great fiction was a different world that could defy the laws of physics and still make sense. Whenever she found a good novel, it was almost impossible for her to put it down. Sometimes it meant that she would have to stay up all night working on her homework because a great author caught her attention. A restless night, however, seemed like a small price to pay for the endless possibilities found in a rich story. While some of her favorite books were the ones she read for classes, Rose enjoyed books that weren’t meant to be studied for their techniques or rhetorical elements. She loved reading just to see what happened to the protagonist.

What was great about attending a boarding school was that it was similar to college. The library was open to all the students but closed to the public which was something that Rose fancied. It stayed open late and opened early which was even better. Rose had just finished a novel that she checked out during her last visit two days ago. The book she just returned on the lower level was decent, but its storyline closely followed Romeo and Juliet’s. In fact, it was like a modern rendition only with a happy ending. The unoriginal concept was a shame, but the author’s style was unique and she enjoyed reading the novel. But now, it was time to find another story to devote herself to.

Ascending the library’s stairs, since Rose always preferred to take them, she pulled open the glass doors and walked into the second floor. This was where the teen, adult, and other books for older audiences were found. It was a large library and that fact alone made Rose love it even more. She could spend hours going through the shelves and carts looking for the perfect novel to take with her for a few nights. Of course, she rarely had to because she mainly stuck with reading series. But that wasn’t the case. The first cart was plainly titled Mysteries and was located at her left. Mysteries were one of her favorite genres since it kept her curious and on her toes because some of the best plot twists in literature were found in mysteries.

Plot twists, however, were often found in reality.

As Rose was looking over the titles on book spines, she happened to look up and catch someone’s stare. He wasn’t just someone though, he was Mason Todd. The boy she had met four years ago at group therapy and had eventually befriended through mutual friends at school. In France, she was taught that it was rude to stare, but that didn’t keep her from doing it. Mason was one of the most handsome men she had ever seen in her life and their short stare temporarily erased her manners. Her soft pink lips tensed at the corners as they drew back into a smile while she held the gaze for a few seconds longer. A blush was steadily saturating her cheeks until she finally bowed her head and looked down at the books again. The titles were a blur to her. Why was she here again?

There was no point in just standing at the cart looking like a fool when she had clearly been spotted. If it had just been her who saw him, everything would be fine. She could evade him until she knew how to approach him, or she could just wait for him to leave. But now she was obligated to go over to him and she felt like a fool forced to fall into a trap. Rose delayed walking over to him for another few seconds, finally taking in a breath and lifting her head up again. She walked over to him casually since they really were just friends bumping into each other outside of classes without any plans to. Her personal attraction to him, however, awakened the dormant butterflies in her stomach and sent them swirling around in what felt like her intestines. The last time she had a crush like this was before the doctors told her she had problems with her heart.

“Hey, Mason,” she whispered to him with a smile on her lips. “Are you waiting for someone?”

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[MASON AVERY TODD]

{ everything about you resonates happiness }

[/font]
NOW I WON’T SETTLE FOR LESS[/font][/center]

The image of Rose’s delicate smile and pretty blush made his lips curl into a miniature grin; he ducked his head to hide it the same instant she turned back to the cart of mysteries. Something probably showed through in his expression, some hint that he thought of her as more than a friend, and he couldn’t let her see that. But still… He’d made her blush. The thought made Mason’s smile widen just the slightest bit and sent a rush of simple happiness through him.

He had, of course, fantasized about Rose quite a few times over the years. Had lay awake at night just wondering what it would be like to run his hands over her smooth, soft skin. Yet he’d known that his fantasies were totally separate from reality, that nothing like them could ever come to pass. The most he could ask for was to be a good friend to her, leaving the attraction he felt to her unanswered. The fact that he had produced such a reaction from her, just from touching gazes, made him unusually pleased. He found it almost difficult to return to reading; instead of processing the ink marks into words and sentences, he instead saw Rose’s lips, curved into a smile. Such lovely lips…

“Hey, Mason. Are you waiting for someone?”

The sound of her voice whispering to him made something just below his belly button flutter eagerly. He glanced up at Rose, at her gentle face and brilliant green eyes, and the fluttering increased in tempo. God, but she was beautiful. “No,” he said, cracking a somewhat nervous smile. “That is, I wasn't really waiting for anyone, I was just reading a little...” Mason trailed off, feeling superbly lame. Usually he was somewhat smoother than this, but he'd been caught off guard. In the pause that followed his words, his eyes began to roam unbidden over Rose’s form; he tried to keep his gaze casual, the gaze of a friend objectively observing another friend. It was more difficult than he thought.

On the spur of the moment, he brought his ocean-blue eyes up to Rose’s face, fixing them in another gaze. He knew that it probably looked a little odd, but her eyes were simply irresistible. He’d never seen anyone else with eyes that perfect hue of emerald green. Peering into those eyes, his words suddenly bloomed up from his lips, reborn. “Do you want to sit and talk for a bit?” He asked, fiercely hoping that she would agree.

[SUNDAY ROSE VALENTINE]

{Humiliation}
…reveals truth that reality obscures..

Mason’s reaction to her stare was better than she could have fantasized. He grinned at her in a way that was neither malicious and deceitful nor timid and too kind. People who were too kind were often of suspicious character—they made people wonder what their true motives were because a genuinely kind and good person was rare. Very rare, actually. Rose was often doubted because she didn’t want something in return for a favor or because she stepped out of her way to help someone who wasn’t part of her clique. But that was how she was, and that was how Mason was too. He was a good person by nature; he was the kind of person who, despite his prejudices, gave everyone a chance regardless of what has happened in the past because of other people. Individuals like him were hard to find and Rose had been lucky enough to befriend him. That should have been enough.

But young hearts never stop wanting more, despite their conditions.

Her blush betrayed her original intent to be as subtle as possible. Blushing was something that all female characters did in novels when they met the gaze of their heart’s owner. Rose’s life was following a scripted storyline—at least it felt that way. He made himself so accessible with that grin of his and she made eye contact with him. The visual connection was enough to invite her over and she slipped, almost knowingly, into the trap. There was always a chance she could save herself, but he had the ability to make her forget herself without ever suspecting it.

Why Rose asked Mason if he was waiting for someone was a mystery. They both enjoyed reading and it was completely possible that he was just reading a book in a comfy chair. What was wrong with that? Why did she have to ask if he was waiting for someone? Her brain was sending out mixed signals inside of her and she thought little of what she said before it passed through her lips. The question was out in the air and all she could hope for in the short time was that he wasn’t waiting on someone—especially a girl.

Then he salved her. He said ‘No,’ and she felt her heart drop from her throat back to its rightful place in her chest. The smile on her lips pulled back even further as she physically expressed her joy. For a brief moment, there was a silence. But it wasn’t the awkward kind that was expected between two people who liked each other but were oblivious to that common ground, because that was too cliché and, again, along the lines of a story. The comfortable noiselessness, however, began to dissipate into an ocean contained in two perfect irises. Staring into someone’s eyes at such a close distance was the strangest sensation she could ever have described. Romance like this was only found in novels and she began to feel as if it was too good to be true. And even if it wasn’t, she didn’t want a scripted romance. He was flawless, but she felt this same sensation when the protagonist in the last novel she read fell in love.

Love should not be a feeling that can be felt when a character falls in love.

“Of course I do,” Rose replied as she sat down beside him. She brushed her wavy blonde hair back over her shoulder and placed her left elbow—the one closest to him—on the arm of the chair she occupied and leaned her jaw against her knuckles. ‘I could talk forever with you,’ she thought as she giggled softly. This felt awkward.

The chair she sat on must have agreed, because it collapsed beneath her. She wasn’t even heavy, but the poor chair must’ve been older than she was. Still, good furniture didn’t just give out, and now Rose was sitting on the floor. The front left leg collapsed on itself, causing the chair to fall towards it. As her body tumbled along with the supposedly sturdy chair, she made sure that she landed on her butt. Her hands, however, flailed a bit as she tried to be quiet when it came to falling unexpectedly off a chair. Instinctively, as the moment called for, she grabbed onto the closest thing that she could grip: Mason’s pants. The fabric slipped through her hand but as her butt made contact with the ground, her nails managed to tear through the fine fabric of his slacks. He, of course, was not scratched.

In less than five seconds, Rose managed to break a chair, fall on her butt and humiliate herself, and tear her crush’s pants. What more could go wrong?

“I—I’m so sorry, Mason. I—it just—I’m so sorry,” she apologized as she got up from the ground and ran her hands down her backside to wipe anything off and because her butt honestly did hurt. Her cheeks were the reddest they’ve ever been; she was so embarrassed. “I’ll… well, I can’t sew well, but I’ll get you new pants. I’m so sorry.”

Rose’s hands moved from her rear to her neck and cheek. She looked ready to cry. There was no doubt that people turned their heads to see what had happened, and the broken, lopsided chair did not make any sense because the girl did not look like she weighed more than a hundred pounds. In truth, Rose did weigh more than that, but she didn’t look it. Her father would pay for it all, but being in the situation she was in now was priceless. A story could never capture the mortification she felt now.

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[MASON AVERY TODD]

{ I'm feeling nervous trying to be so perfect }

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CAUSE I KNOW YOU'RE WORTH IT[/font][/center]

In some part of his mind, Mason knew that this was too good to be true. As Rose gracefully sat down next to him, as she let out a sweet little giggle, there was the faint sensation that something was about to go wrong. The situation really shouldn't have set off that instinct; this was, after all, just a chance meeting between friends. There wasn't supposed to be anything suspiciously good about it, he reminded himself, trying to keep his emotions under wraps. He could almost hear his subconscious snickering at him.

The truth was, sitting and talking with Rose, just the two of them, was a rather rare occurrence. They usually only met when they were with the rest of their friends, which gave their encounters a more relaxed, casual air. This was a good deal more intimate, and more significant in Mason's mind. It seemed surreal that everything would be working out so well. Hence, the hesitant belief that this was too good to be true.

And hence, the inevitable workings of Murphy's Law.

Mason started when Rose's chair inexplicably collapsed underneath her; for all that she seemed to be falling in slow motion, his reflexes were slower still. By the time he'd told himself to react, she had already landed on her bum and was steadily turning bright red. He sprang out of his chair, his first instinct to ensure that she was all right. Yet before he could even get a word in, she'd stood up herself and was apologizing furiously.

It wasn't until she said she'd buy him a new pair of pants that he even noticed they were torn. He gave his trousers a reflexive glance--yes, they were indeed ripped, a clear split of the seam that ran all the way up his shin. Well, that was the last time he shopped at that store. Designer-quality his foot. Of course, while Mason did like his clothes, there were a good deal many things that took precedence over them. Example: the girl who had narrowly escaped injury by Rogue Collapsing Chair.

"Hey, don't worry about it," he said gently. "I've got about a thousand more just like them. You aren't hurt, are you?" Worry crept into his light baritone. She didn't seem to be harmed--and that adorable blush was making it difficult to focus--but there was a possibility that she'd been injured in some manner that wasn't immediately visible. She'd always seemed just a little more delicate and fragile than the other girls; he was never quite sure of the reason behind it. Nevertheless, it made him fret, which turned into a sort of frustration. Really, what kind of chair just busted when a girl as light as Rose sat on it? And he'd sat there like a moron.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a few people staring at them. He immediately felt the urge to shield Rose from their eyes, to protect her somehow. Their gazes were clearly bothering her; before he knew what he was really doing, he'd wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Nothing to see here, people," he called, which earned him a stern shush from the librarian. He nodded and flashed an apologetic smile at the grey-haired old lady; she made a face like she was sucking on a lemon and returned to her magazine, still clearly disapproving of his actions. But no one was staring at them any longer, so he considered it a success.

"Wait till the school paper gets a hold of this," he joked. "'Renegade chair attempts to assassinate Sunday Valentine'. Heh heh..." Wow. Really, Mason? Really? He was just on a roll today. It seemed like every attempt he made at conversation just came out sounding asinine. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously as he felt his own cheeks color a light pink. Rose just had that effect on him, he supposed.

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[SUNDAY ROSE VALENTINE]

{My Knight in Shining Armor,}
I’m here to stay; I’ll not desert you.
I know it’s our fate; I’m your soul mate.

If Rose had been a Sim, her comfort meter would have been red—a bright, angry red. Although she generally loved libraries, she suddenly disliked this one. As a spoiled child, she loved the finer things in life, and second-rate chairs that broke beneath someone as light as her could not have been worth much. She wasn’t the kind of girl who let her money get to her, but this was supposed to be one of the best boarding schools in the nation and it should have been the best in California. There were so many others that her father could have sent her to instead of this one, yet he chose Rosewood, located on the other side of the nation. For a place that was supposed to be at the top of the list, Rosewood suddenly didn’t look too hot to the senior who had loved the school for three years already. If the place couldn’t at least maintain safe, comfortable chairs, what could they do?

This sudden flash of disappointment which, heightened, could have been anger kept Rose from breaking into tears. Her hands slipped down from her neck and cheek and held on to the opposite shoulder as she tried to control herself a bit more. Mason was already up on his feet and she felt embarrassed to have caused such a reaction from him. She was fine, though the mere fact that any of this had happened troubled her. Just standing there felt awkward to her and suddenly she felt so out of place with the unwanted eyes staring in bewilderment.

Mason’s voice drew her focus to something more pleasant. He took her attention away from wondering what everyone else was thinking and the uneasiness that overcame her when she thought of them. “No, I’m fine. Really,” she responded meekly. A frown became prevalent on her lips as she looked down at the toes of her shoes. She hadn’t made any attempt to get dressed up to just return a book, so her black flats were nothing extravagant. It was probably better that way because she most likely would have twisted her ankle or something similar if she had been wearing heels. ‘Why am I thinking about my shoes?’ she asked herself as she buried her heels into the ground and moved the balls of her feet from side to side. It seemed like something a person would do when they were feeling timid or nervous, but Rose was just … a damsel in distress.

Little did she know that her knight was right there for her. Sure, he wasn’t in a suit of armor, but he was there to protect her from eyes that did not belong on her. In a simple gesture, he was suddenly closer to her. In fact, their two bodies were in contact. His voice tore through the blanket of silence that spread across the library in what seemed to be her defense. Any of her friends would have done that, both the girls and boys, but somehow it meant so much more to her when it was Mason. Being this close to him was something that she wasn’t used to and while she would have pulled away, she couldn’t. She did the exact opposite and leaned against him. She was a little scared, but that fear evaporated as she listened to him joke with her.

“If they call me ‘Sunday’ I might have to file a complaint,” she giggled in return. It felt nice to be supported by him, physically though she was sure he would help her out in any other way he could. “But my first complaint has to be to you.” For a moment, she was considering poking some fun at him for just sitting in his chair as she fell. Of course, this all happened too quickly for anyone to have done anything to help her out. She began to support herself again and turned to look up at him, no longer leaning against him. “You have to let me make up for your pants somehow. I feel terrible and I’ll keep feeling terrible until I can do something about them,” she declared.

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[MASON AVERY TODD]

{ Right now I think I’d try anything }

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ANYTHING AT ALL TO KEEP YOU SATISFIED [/font][/center]

Mason did a good job at acting confident. He knew that half of succeeding at anything was looking like you knew what you were doing. Actual ability was part of it, of course, but unless you had confidence in that ability and showed it, odds were you would get glossed over. Years of his mother’s nitpicking and his own drive had honed this particular skill until he could fake expertise in an area he knew absolutely nothing about. Which he rarely did, but still. The point was, hardly anyone saw Mason get visibly nervous or uncertain. He was very careful not to let that happen.

So as he stood there with his arm around Rose, he was able to appear calm externally while mentally he was flying in all different directions. Was he being too forward? Too cheesy and unoriginal? There was the possibility that Rose did not want or need any help from him—though he figured that he had guessed correctly with his actions. She had relaxed once people had stopped staring at them, had even leaned in closer to him. That was a good sign, right? And then there was that part of him that relished their physical contact, tame as it was. It felt good—almost too good, he thought guiltily. There shouldn’t be this sense of rightness just from putting his arm around her. It made things so much more complicated than they had to be. Made it more difficult to remember that they were just friends, and nothing more.

She giggled at his joke and a bit of his nervousness dissipated, making a more relaxed smile spread over his face. He could handle being friends for now. It was good to laugh and talk with Rose, to know he hadn’t completely messed up. He had other friends, true, but his friendship with Rose was more unique and deeper on a certain level. More than anything, he didn’t want to lose that; he could stay “just friends” for his whole life if it meant he could still keep Rose’s company. Yet today he kept catching glimpses—her blush, the way she leaned into him—that hinted that she might feel for him what he felt for her. They were just little things, and he could be wrong in his assumptions, but his overeager heart seized onto them. They gave him a tiny bit of hope that perhaps—someday—their relationship could evolve into something more. Intellectually, he knew it was unlikely, but something inside him yearned for it.

“But my first complaint has to be you.” And just like that, any wistful, romantic thoughts he might have been entertaining were shoved back into a corner of his mind. He glanced at the floor before looking back up at Rose sheepishly. “Yeah, I’m sorry about that,” he said honestly. Unreasonable as it might be, he did feel guilty for failing to catch Rose. He knew that she wasn’t truly mad at him, but it didn’t keep him from being mad with himself.

Rose pulled away from him and he let her, his emotions safely boxed in once more. He did have to fight the little twinge of instinct that made him want to continue holding her; otherwise thoroughly modern, Mason had a horrible old-school weakness for damsels in distress. Although it seemed that Rose had recovered from her state of vulnerability, he still wanted to stay close and watch over her until he was sure it had passed. But he managed to suppress it. Rose was a big girl, and she was strong in her own unique way. He would be there to offer help when he had to. Besides, the way that she kept insisting that she make up for his pants rather clearly said that she was back to normal.

“I doubt I could stop you even if I wanted to, so…” he trailed off, glancing around the library. The chair that he had been sitting on had been comfortable and sturdy… but after Rose’s incident he regarded it with suspicion. “If you want, we could go get a new pair right now. Though it’s fine if you want to stick around," he suggested, taking a step back. Now that she wasn’t in imminent danger, as a friend he had to respect the laws of personal space. There was no need to stay so close to Rose now that she could support herself—well, no need other than the one his subconscious was complaining about.

As though that part of his mind could reach into the physical world and manifest its wishes, there came a distinct rrrip from somewhere around his knee. He glanced down to find that the hem of his pants leg had caught on the head of a nail that was just barely sticking out from the chair; his step backwards had caused his already-torn pants to rip even further up his leg. The tear now reached to just above his knee. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say someone was trying to tell me something. In spite of his self-control, he felt a flush creeping into his cheeks. Having someone else rip his pants wasn’t so bad, but for some reason ripping his own pants… now that was embarrassing.

Still, he would stay at the library if Rose really wanted to. It would just be vain to refuse to show his face in public simply because his pants were ripped. Even if he was that vain, he wouldn't be able to refuse Rose anything she asked.

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[SUNDAY ROSE VALENTINE]

{Why can’t you see?}
You belong with me.

Sunday knew that Mason would probably think that she was upset because he didn’t do anything as she fell. That was the exact reason why she waited—to tease him, in a way. They were close enough for her to be able to joke around with him, but at the same time, it still felt awkward sometimes. If that was because of their relationship as friends or what she aspired for their relationship to become, Rose couldn’t say, but she always felt it and wondered if he did too. With friends, it was different because they didn’t have to interact; they could just follow their friends in comfortable silence or join in. Either way, their friends were like buffers that suppressed the butterflies in her stomach. Even as she smirked up at him, the butterflies danced around.

Mason’s response gave her that guilty pleasure of having deceived him. He was such an innocent boy—or so it seemed. His glance around the library gave her enough time to blush as she held back her chuckle. It wasn’t the embarrassed type of blush—that type of blush was long gone since he wrapped his arms around her. She couldn’t let this last for much longer though, because if she did, she would start feeling bad for lying to him, and then she would be upset again. So she said, without mentioning falling, that he must allow her to make up ripping his pants to him. She wasn’t sure if he would act the role of a charmer and demand a kiss as her form of payment, but she secretly hoped for it. She secretly hoped for a lot of things, like being in his arms again.

To her disappointment, however, Mason did not do that. It was the more gentlemanly thing to have done, in a sense. Mr. George Knightly wouldn’t have allowed her to pay him back, but he certainly wouldn’t have swept her into his arms and kissed her. What would Mr. Knightly have done? It didn’t matter. Mason wasn’t Mr. Knightly. But he was a knight. At least, she made believe he was sometimes in her silly daydreams. He would be her knight in shining armor—well, maybe not armor. She couldn’t imagine him in armor. But he could be her knight in designer clothes. She didn’t mind that. She did mind that he was a knight in ripped designer clothes though.

The rip, unfortunately, just got worse, and it was indirectly her fault. Mason’s stunned expression and mortified blush brought one to her face as well. While she was willing to take the blame for everything, Mason was the one paying the price, and every rip was like another hundred dollars. Stupid amazing designer clothes! So expensive yet irresistible! Had Mason been a pitiable young man, she would have pitied him indeed, but he was not. He held his head proudly and, despite the blush that betrayed his wishes, handled embarrassment better than most people she had ever met. For a moment, there was just an awkward silence. Rose didn’t know what to say to him. “I’m sorry that your pants keep ripping”? No, that would never do.

“That ‘renegade chair’ that tried to assassinate me is trying to strip you, I think,” she said with the blush lingering on her cheeks still. ‘Not that I mind, of course…’

Rose smiled at him and extended her hand to take his. “I think we should get you new pants—or at least let you go change your pants. Ripped jeans may be a trend, but I don’t think ripped slacks will ever become one. I hope not at least, despite how good you make it look.”

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