hey stranger {mason}

[CLEO EVERETT]

Cleo never learned her lesson. Or. Well. Sort of. It just took a few times. She wished with all her heart that she’d learned this lesson the first time. It had been scary enough, hadn’t it? God, why was she so claustrophobic? And why did New York make it that much worse? Ugh. She hated this place. This stupid city. Cleo really hated being bored. Especially when there was nothing to do. Even more so when there was stuff to do that she didn’t want to do. Which was what had been her problem. Take a bubble bath? Play video games? Bake? Do laundry? Any of those would have been better than a club. Any of them. Really. But no. She’d decided that she was too good for mundane things like that. She had to be daring and adventurous. She had to go to a club. Even though she hated them.

Much like last time, she’d managed to land herself in some private booth with a guy she didn’t know. Unfortunately, she’d had more than half a drink this time. Stupid. She was so stupid. Why did she think drinking would help her get over the claustrophobic atmosphere of a club? What was this place called anyway? Ugh. Stupid. So stupid. Shoving him off, she forced her way out of the booth and back into the crowd. Why did they all dance like that? Ew. Why was she here? Stumbling through the dance floor (stupid, so stupid. she should have gone around), Cleo pushed through couples, ignoring the few annoyed yells that followed after. Most went right on dancing, not caring for some stick in the mud trying to ruin their good time.

Cleo couldn’t have gotten to the bar sooner and when she finally did, it was almost like a breath of fresh air. Except not really. It smelled like alcohol and too much cologne. Or perfume. Both, probably. Practically demanding a glass of cold water, Cleo fought for the air she’d lost while hyperventilating her way through the crowd. There was a boy next to her, facing away, but he was somehow familiar. Work? School? Whether he was flirting with some girl or not, Cleo grabbed his shoulder and spun him around to face her. Familiar. Yes. School? Probably. “Hey. You. Uhm.” Words. Was that water for her? She grabbed it and downed half of it, lest she lose his attention in the time it took to drink a full glass of water. “Get me out of here. Okay? Please? Yeah?” She was either talking really fast or incredibly slow, but he had to have understood her. Right? Right. Good.

[MASON HOWARD]

“No, don’t ever tell them that. Tell ‘em that, and you’re dead. I promise. Happened to me once, actually—“ Mason smiled sweetly at the girl sitting to his left, taking another sip of his drink as she giggled, clutching her own flowery cocktail to her chest.

It was a wonder she stayed on the stool. Honestly, this girl ought to be embarrassed of herself; Mason had done nothing but buy her and her sloppy-looking friend all night, and what had he gotten in return? Giggles. Obnoxious, high-pitched, squeaky giggles. The baby kind. He fucking hated babies. Still, she was hot, at least in the standard “huge tits, firm ass” manner of speaking. A classic butter face, and a fairly good dancer, all things considered, considering both her drunken state and exactly how club dancing worked. It didn’t exactly take a lot of talent.

Just about to continue with the apparently engrossing story, Mason set his glass back down on the bar when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Before he really knew what was going on, said hand had spun him to be face-to-face with yet another female, this time of significantly higher all-around attractiveness rankings than his previous companion. It seemed the fates were shining on him today. Tonight. Mason really wasn’t sure what time it was.

Although, according to this mystery girl, it was apparently time to leave. Immediately. Blinking in an almost stunned manner as she reached over and downed a random cup of water in less than three seconds flat, Mason found himself not only slightly impressed with this girl, but intrigued by her. What exactly had happened to make her want to leave so badly? He decided instantly that it was imperative he find out.

“Yeah, yeah, sure. Whatever you want,” he nodded at her rapid-fire sentences, perfectly gentleman-like as he hopped off the bar stool and offered her his arm, now completely ignoring the girl he’d been talking with previously. This new girl, he recognized her from somewhere, maybe school. Hopefully school. That would certainly be the best bet as far as his personal safety went.

Trying not to dwell on the matter, Mason turned to speak in the girl’s ear, both for the sake of intimacy and general hearing benefits—it was a club, after all. “Is it okay if we go out back? It’ll be quicker that way, in the long run,” hopefully she wasn’t one of those to think “out back” was synonymous with “let me rape you and throw your body in a dumpster.”

[CLEO EVERETT]

He probably had been flirting and if Cleo hadn’t wanted to get out so badly, she would’ve felt guilty for probably ruining a good night. Whatever. Oh well. It was better for her to bother somebody she maybe knew than to ask for help from some stranger. Yes, it was much safer. He looked confused and for a moment, she felt like she needed to explain. Words just weren’t coming to her though. Uugghhhhhhhhh. This sucked. She was so stupid. He probably thought she was crazy or something. But, thank God, he went along with her pleas. She slid off of her seat and took his arm, practically clinging to him. Moving made her dizzy. She probably still needed air.

“Thank you,” she muttered, clearly not loud enough for him to hear but something she had to say nonetheless. It’d be rude otherwise. Her feet were working well enough; she wasn’t stumbling, at least, and that made her feel a little better. She didn’t want to seem like the typical drunk girls in bars. He was talking. Cleo expected to hardly hear him but he was loud and clear. She turned to look at him and realized he’d moved closer to speak in her ear. Right. Because it was loud. Cleo blinked and nodded. He was making perfect sense and she trusted him enough not to try anything. Which was probably naïve of her. But whatever. She’d already been stupid enough tonight.

“Cleo,” she said, speaking softly into his ear as he had earlier. Names made things easier. Cleo pressed her free hand against her forehead, trying to ignore her headache. It wasn’t helping and it just made moving more difficult. She held onto the sort of familiar boy, letting him lead the way. She couldn’t find her way out of a paper bag right now. Situations like this did not help her already terrible sense of direction. “And I’m sorry.” Because she couldn’t not apologize for her abrupt behavior.

[MASON HOWARD]

Did he even know this girl? Mason honestly had no idea, and whether that was due to genuine lack of knowledge or the side effects of alcohol, he hadn’t a clue, either. It didn’t much matter. This girl—whoever she was—certainly looked like someone worth getting to know. Damn redheads. What was it about them?

Mason hardly blinked when maybe-stranger-maybe-not decided it’d be a good idea to get real cozy, instead tugging her a bit closer, although not so close as to cause any amount of discomfort or alarm. Support. That was all he was there for, after all; he was helping a poor damsel in distress escape, nothing more. The fact that she had quite possibly one of the best bodies and most appealing faces he’d seen all throughout this damn place had absolutely nothing to do with it whatsoever. Charity was charity, and he was a good Samaritan.

Glad she hadn’t immediately turned tail and run at his mention of taking an alternative route, Mason breathed a slight sigh of relief. That could have ended horribly. Pushing his way through the crowd for the both of them with all the appropriate “Excuse me” ‘s and “Move it, fatass”’es, Mason found it safe to say he was being positively gentlemanly. And this girl, whoever she was, seemed almost…well, normal. Or, in other words, nowhere near ghost-face wasted. Which was odd, to say the least.

“Pleasure to meet you, Cleo. Name’s Mason,” he flashed her his most charming smile before shifting to speak with one of the bartenders near the back, who he happened to know was named Maddie. A few quick words were exchanged with the bubbly blonde before he turned, lips close to Cleo’s ear once more. “You’re in luck—door’s open thataway,” he nodded off to their left, and immediately began leading his newfound partner in that direction.

Mason pushed the door open easily, taking a deep breath of the fresh (or well, as fresh as the city could be) night air before turning back to Cleo, sure to keep one hand on her arm to steady her as he held the door open. “No need to be sorry,” he shrugged, “In all honesty, I think you’re already more exciting than everything happening in there combined.”

Smiling, he jerked his head back towards the door of the club, where the pulsating bass could still be heard. Hands planted firmly in his pockets, Mason took a step forward, brow furrowing slightly but tone casual. “Still, I can’t help but wonder…what’s a girl like you wanting to leave a club so early for, anyway?” it was a legitimate enough question. And perhaps her answer would trigger something, some sort of hidden knowledge that would unlock exactly where/if he knew her from somewhere without having to come out with his lack of a memory anyway.