BETWEEN US AND THE PAST

CHAPTER 13- GLASS OF WATER

Lori and I walked into class like we always did—late enough to be noticeable, early enough to pretend it wasn’t intentional.

“You’re still overthinking it,” Lori whispered.

“I’m not overthinking anything.”

“You’ve said Mason’s name three times already before even sitting down.”

I stopped. “That’s irrelevant.”

She smirked. “Sure.”

I didn’t get to respond because I saw him.

Frost.

Seated in his usual spot, calm as always.

This time, though… I didn’t hesitate. I walked straight toward him.

Lori followed behind me, already curious.

When I stopped beside his desk, Frost looked up.

“Hey,” I said. “Hey,” he replied.

A small pause.

I shifted slightly. “About yesterday…” He waited.

I exhaled. “Thank you. For saving me.”

Frost blinked once. Then, very lightly—he smiled. Not big. Not dramatic. Just enough to notice.

“You already said that,” he replied. “I know,” I said quickly. “But I mean it.”

The smile stayed a second longer, then he nodded once. “Okay.”

Simple. No awkwardness. No overreaction. Just accepted.

Then Frost moved his bag slightly and tapped the empty chair beside him.

“You can sit here,” he said.

I blinked. “What?”

He glanced at the seat like it was obvious. “It’s fine.”

Lori immediately leaned closer behind me. “Oh.”

I ignored her.

“I was just saying thank you,” I muttered. “I know,” Frost said calmly.

Then, softer— “You don’t have to stand there.”

That… made it harder to refuse than it should’ve.

So I sat down. Carefully.

Lori slid into the seat behind us, clearly entertained.

“This is already interesting,” she whispered.

I ignored her again.

For a moment, it felt normal. Too normal.

Then I felt it. Before I even turned—I knew Mason was there.

Standing near the classroom entrance. Still. Watching.

Not loud. Not obvious. But focused.

His eyes moved from me… to Frost… to the empty space between us that was no longer empty.

Frost noticed him too but didn’t move. Didn’t change his expression.

Mason stepped forward slowly.

He stopped a few feet away from my desk.

“Convenient,” he said flatly.

I frowned. “What is?”

His eyes flicked briefly to the seat I was in. Then to Frost. Then back to me.

“You’re sitting there,” he said.

“It’s just a seat,” I replied immediately.

Frost leaned back slightly. “She chose it.”

Mason didn’t react right away.

Then, quietly— “I saw.”

Silence followed, heavier than it should’ve been.

Lori whispered, “I need popcorn for this.”

I turned slightly. “It’s not a show.”

But nobody listened.

Frost finally looked away first. Mason followed a second later.

And I sat there—wondering why a simple chair suddenly felt like it had become a problem I didn’t sign up for.

Lori didn’t go home that afternoon. Instead, she showed up at my door with a small overnight bag and the most casual expression in the world.

“My parents left for a medical mission,” she said, stepping inside like she belonged there. “I’m staying here on weekdays and weekends for a while.”

I blinked. “You’re just… announcing this now?”

She shrugged. “I texted you.”

“You texted me after you were already outside my house.”

“Efficiency.”

I sighed. “Of course.”

Nugget immediately ran to her like she was a returning celebrity. Traitor.

Later that night, we ended up in my room.

Lori was lying on my bed, scrolling through her phone like she owned it. I was sitting on the floor, leaning against the bed, pretending I wasn’t tired.

“You know,” she started.

I already didn’t like that tone.

“I’m not doing this.”

“You don’t even know what I’m going to say yet.”

“I do. And I’m still not doing it.”

She rolled over, looking down at me. “Too late.”

I groaned. “Lori.”

She smiled. “Simple question.”

I stayed silent.

She sat up slightly. “Mason or Frost?”

I turned my head slowly. “What the f**k?.”

“You heard me.”

I frowned. “That’s not a normal question.”

“It’s a very normal question in your current situation.”

“There is no ‘situation’.”

Lori raised an eyebrow.

I corrected myself. “There is no defined situation.”

“That’s worse,” she said immediately.

I sighed and leaned my head back against the bed. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I live here now,” she said proudly, “and this is my entertainment.”

I stared at the ceiling. “They are not choices on a menu.”

Lori kicked her feet lightly. “Just answer.”

I hesitated.

That was the problem.

Because my brain, annoyingly, didn’t immediately shut it down like it should’ve.

Mason. Quiet. Steady. Too observant.

Frost. Calm. Mysterious. Always one step ahead in a way I couldn’t explain.

I groaned. “I hate this.”

Lori grinned. “That means you’re thinking.”

“I’m not thinking.”

“You are absolutely thinking.”

I grabbed a pillow and covered my face. “I refuse to participate in this conversation.”

“Too late,” she said again. “You’re already participating.”

I pulled the pillow down slightly. “They’re just… different.”

Lori tilted her head. “That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one you’re getting.”

She leaned back, satisfied, like she had already won something.

“Good,” she said.

I frowned. “Good?”

Lori smiled at the ceiling. “Because that means this is going to get more interesting.”

I immediately regretted letting her stay in my house.

Lori was still talking when my phone buzzed again.

I looked down immediately.

Mason.

My stomach tightened slightly without permission.

Lori noticed right away. “That’s him again, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” I said quickly.

She leaned closer. “What now?”

I opened the message.

Mason: You keep thinking about the pool incident.

I froze.

My thumb hovered over the screen.

That was too direct. Too accurate.

Lori tilted her head. “Well?”

I hesitated, then kept reading.

Another message came in right after.

Mason: So do I.

My breath caught slightly.

Not because it was dramatic. Because it was simple. Too simple.

Lori sat up instantly. “Okay, that sounds serious.”

“It’s not serious,” I said immediately, locking my phone too fast.

“It is serious,” she insisted.

“It’s just—he’s checking in.”

Lori stared at me. “That is not ‘checking in’ language.”

I didn’t respond.

Because my brain was already replaying everything again—the water, the panic, his voice earlier, the way he looked at me after.

I stood up abruptly. “I need water.”

Lori blinked. “You’re already holding your phone.”

“I need different water.”

She watched me walk to the door.

Then called after me, way too amused: “This is getting interesting again!”

I didn’t answer.

But I could still feel my phone buzzing in my hand. And for some reason—I wasn’t sure I wanted it to stop.

I was halfway down the stairs when my phone buzzed again.

I stopped immediately. Too fast.

Nugget looked up from the living room like I was the one acting weird.

“…Don’t start,” I muttered to him.

I looked down at the screen.

Mason again.

My thumb hesitated before unlocking it.

Lori’s voice carried faintly from my room. “What did he say this time?”

“Nothing important,” I called back automatically.

That was a lie.

I opened the message.

Mason: I kept thinking about you.

I stared at it for a second.

Then another message appeared right after.

Mason: When you went under the water.

My grip tightened slightly on the phone.

The memory came back anyway—cold water, noise disappearing, that split second where everything went wrong.

I swallowed hard and leaned lightly against the wall.

“Evelyn?” Lori called from upstairs. “Yeah,” I answered, a little too quickly.

I forced myself to breathe normally before replying.

But Mason sent one more message before I could type anything.

Mason: It stayed in my head.

I blinked.

For once, I didn’t immediately have a sarcastic reply.

Instead, I just stood there on the stairs, staring at the screen, feeling oddly still.

Not scared. Not flustered. Just… aware.

Lori appeared at the top of the stairs, leaning over the railing. “Okay, I need details.”

“There are no details,” I said quickly, locking the phone.

“That’s never a good sign,” she muttered.

I slipped my phone into my pocket and finally continued downstairs.

But even as I poured myself a glass of water—my hands weren’t fully steady.

And I hated that I couldn’t tell if it was because of the memory… or because someone else remembered it too.

I shouldn’t have checked my phone again. That was the mistake.

Now I was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling like it had personally offended me.

Lori was already asleep in the guest bed across the hall. Nugget too—completely unbothered by the emotional damage happening in my brain.

I, unfortunately, was not unbothered.

Mason’s messages kept replaying in my head.

I kept thinking about you. When you went under the water. It stayed in my head.

Simple sentences. Too simple.

That was the problem.

I turned to my side. Then my back. Then my side again.

Nothing worked.

“Why am I like this?” I whispered to myself.

The room didn’t answer. Of course it didn’t.

I grabbed my phone again. Unlocked it. Stared at the messages. Then locked it again immediately.

“Nope,” I muttered.

I tossed it aside.

Two minutes passed. I grabbed it again. Unlocked it. Stared again.

“…This is ridiculous,” I whispered.

Another toss.

I sat up abruptly, rubbing my face.

It wasn’t even like the messages were dramatic. They weren’t.

That was the problem.

Mason didn’t exaggerate. He didn’t overthink out loud. He just said things directly.

And somehow that made it worse.

I groaned softly and flopped back onto the bed.

“Why can’t anyone in my life be normal?” I muttered.

A faint sound outside made me freeze for a second.

Just the wind. Nothing else.

Still—my mind immediately went back to the pool again.

Cold water. Panic. Breathing disappearing.

I shut my eyes tight.

“Stop,” I whispered to myself.

But my brain didn’t listen.

Instead, it replayed something else.

Mason’s voice. Calm.

I kept thinking about you.

I opened my eyes again.

“…That’s not helping,” I said to the ceiling.

Nugget shifted slightly in his sleep. Traitor.

I turned onto my side again, pulling the blanket up.

This time, I didn’t grab my phone. I just stared into the dark, trying to sleep.

Failing completely.

And somewhere in the quiet— I realized it wasn’t just the memory keeping me awake.

It was the fact that someone else hadn’t forgotten it either