The Past is Prologue: Chapter Six - Jenna Sommers, Part 2
“Where are you taking me?” Jenna laughed as she tried not to stumble as Mason drug her by the hand through the woods on the back of his property. The sun hung high in the April sky, a chill still leftover from the rough Virginia winter, and Jenna shivered as she stepped double-time to keep up with Mason's long strides.
“It's a secret,” Mason teased, stopping to help her over a fallen tree.
“You're going to murder me, aren't you? These past two years have all been an elaborate scheme to win my trust, lure me into the woods, and mutilate me, haven't they?”
“You forgot 'rape your corpse.' It's the most important part of my MO.”
“Mase - “
“We're almost there,” he assured her. “And then I have a surprise for you.”
When they reached the staircase which lead down into the earth, Jenna froze, momentarily freaked out. Enclosed spaces had never been her favorite thing, and she saw nothing but darkness. Mason hopped down the first couple of stairs and, when he noticed she was not following, he turned back around, resting his hands on her hips.
“What is this?”
“It's the old slave quarters my parents pretend doesn't exist. I found it a couple of years ago when I was hunting.”
“I don't want to go down there.”
“It's not as bad as it seems.”
Jenna raised an eyebrow and scoffed. “Yeah, I'm sure the slaves were just wild about it.”
“Jay, do you really think I'd take you somewhere if it wasn't okay? You trust me, right?”
She trusted Mason with her life; he knew that.
“Okay, so why are we sitting in slave quarters on a Saturday afternoon?”
Mason grinned, reaching into the pocket of his hooded sweatshirt and pulling out something Jenna only vaguely recognized. “Because it's about the only place in Mystic Falls my parents don't have people who will report back to them about what an awful, delinquent child I am. And you are the person I want to do this with.”
“What exactly are we doing?”
Holding up the baggy in his hand, he smirked. “I swiped this from Jake. I figure it'll make that bullshit dinner we have to go to later bearable. You ever smoked before?”
“Just cigarettes,” she answered, watching as he clumsily lit the joint. The strangely sweet scent of the pot tickled her nose, and she could not help but laugh as Mason coughed as he took his first hit.
“You think you can do better?” he asked, voice raw from coughing. “Let's see it, Sommers.”
She coughed too, the rush of smoke different from the cigarettes she and Kelly shared at her kitchen table, but almost immediately Jenna felt the effects, her body pleasantly warming as she relaxed. Passing it back to Mason, he imitated her inhalation, and soon they were passing it back and forth with ease, laughing as they took turns imitating their mothers, siblings, and teachers.
It became a Saturday ritual, smoking up with Mason in the old slave quarters, leaving the expectations and disappointments of their parents on the surface as they sought shelter beneath the ground.
Everything fell apart on Memorial Day.
Zach's father had offered up the boardinghouse for a Founders' barbecue, and, when Jenna showed up, the yard and house was already crawling with people. Having never been inside the house before, Jenna could not help but be fascinated by the grand rooms. She wandered around the downstairs, taking in the mammoth fireplaces and massive library, before venturing up the staircase, slipping away from the crowds.
Unsure which rooms belonged to Zach and his father, Jenna did not want to open any doors. However, when she got to the end of the hall, there was an open door. From the layer of dust on everything, Jenna quickly deduced this room was not lived in and felt comfortable snooping around.
It was full of antiques, a collection of leather-bound journals neatly organized on the bookshelves. A few line drawings were framed around the room, all signed in black ink by someone named Lexi, and an old daguerreotype dated 1847 of a woman with jet black curls and bright eyes smiled demurely from behind a frame on the writing desk.
“That's Stefania Salvatore,” a voice supplies, causing Jenna to gasp, whirling around to find Zach standing in the doorway. “She died giving birth to her second son.”
“Oh,” was all Jenna could think to reply, replacing the picture on the desk.
“You shouldn't be in here. My uncle doesn't like people touching his things.”
“I'm sorry. I was just...I've always wanted to see inside here,” she admitted. “My house could fit in here, like, twenty-seven times.”
Zach simply smiled, waiting until she stepped over the threshold before firmly closing the door behind her. As they walked back towards the staircase, Jenna ventured, “I didn't know you had an uncle. I thought you and your dad were the last Salvatores.”
“I have two uncles. They don't...They're not...It's better when they don't come around.”
Sensing it was a touchy subject, Jenna quickly segued into asking him about college, if he was enjoying UVA, if the engineering program was hard. Zach was in the middle of describing an English course he taken that he thought she'd like when Mason's strong arms draped over her shoulders, causing her to grunt with the added weight.
“Come play football with us, Jay.” Catching himself, he added, “You too, Zach. John is going to need all the help he can get.”
Jenna hated football more than just about anything, but she was willing to bet she had played more games in her life than Zach ever had.
There was a group of about fifteen on the back lawn, including Logan and his sisters. Almost immediately Jenna could tell Logan was well on his way to being drunk, a suspicion which was confirmed as she watched him and Jake Lockwood pass a flask back and forth as teams were picked. She knew Mason was buzzed, having been able to smell the Jack Daniels on his breath, but she wondered if she and Zach were the only sober people in the backyard.
Everything was fine for the first half-hour, the boys a little too competitive, the girls more than a little disinterested. When Jake handed her the ball and told her to run, Jenna did so, trying to dodge the tag, when Mason came out of nowhere, scooping her up into his arms. Jenna laughed and then squealed as Mason pretended to spike her to the ground before setting her back on her feet.
“Cheater!” she accused, slapping him in the chest.
Mason hooked his arm around her neck easily, pulling her in to give her a noogie even as he tossed the ball back to Jake to resume the game.
“You're such a jerk!” she squealed as Mason held tight, leading her around by the neck.
“Hey, think you can stop feeling up my girlfriend?” Logan snapped, startling both Jenna and Mason with the venom in his voice.
Releasing her from his hold, Mason chuckled, clearly trying to play it off. “We're just screwing around, man.”
“Yeah, that's what everyone keeps telling me. Just how often are you screwing her?”
“What?” Jenna gasped. “Logan, Mason and I are just - “
“I'm not talking to you right now!” Logan shouted, the scent of whiskey so strong on his breath, Jenna pulled back to escape it.
“Okay, you need to calm the fuck down,” Mason ordered, steel behind his words, “and not talk to her like that.”
Jenna became acutely aware of the eyes now turning on them as Logan challenged, “Or what? What are you going to do, Mason? I mean, other than fuck my girlfriend!”
“You're drunk,” Mason spat, “and you're acting like a jackass, so walk away and cool off now.”
“Logan, come on,” Zach encouraged. “Let's just play.”
“No, I want to know what the hell is going on here!” Turning his bleary eyed gaze on her, Logan growled, “What, you decide to be like your sister and fuck enough Founders till you found one you liked?”
What happened next unfolded so quickly, Jenna didn't even know who started it. One minute she was standing there in horror, anger and embarrassment warring for top billing in her body, and the next Logan and Mason were rolling around on the ground, both throwing punches with connected with sickening solidity. Someone behind her screamed, and then John, Zach, Jake, and a handful of others were attempting to separate her best friend and boyfriend.
“Stop it!” Jenna shrieked as both boys were pulled to their feet, literally being drug apart. She took a breath, thinking it was over, when Logan managed to squirm out of Zach's grip and charged Mason, who was currently being held by Jake and John, landing a sucker punch so hard to Mason's stomach it somehow invigorated Mason to break the hold, catching Logan solidly across the jaw.
Jenna moved without thinking, desperate to end the fight; she wasn't sure whose fist it was but suddenly her eye felt as if it was exploding, the force of the blow sending her to the ground with enough force, she actually bounced.
Someone was saying her name, but Jenna couldn't focus, not when it felt like her brain was ringing. And then there was more shouting, a deep voice she vaguely recognized as Grayson's roaring, “That's enough!” and almost immediately everything quieted down. Opening her uninjured eye, Jenna squinted up into the sunlight to see Miranda bent beside her, and she was assailed with the strongest memory of her sister, of being in this exact same position after falling out of a tree, the oxygen forced out of her lungs, and Miranda rushing to her side to make sure she was okay.
Jenna didn't even realize she was crying until Miranda carefully wiped away her tears and murmured, “You're okay, sweetie. You're okay.”
“You know, there is a silver lining to this,” John remarked as she sat in the waiting room of Grayson's office waiting for her parents to arrive.
“What's that?” she asked, holding the ice pack Grayson had given to her to her tender face.
“You took a punch from a Lockwood and didn't get knocked out. Not a lot of people can claim that.”
Despite herself, Jenna laughed.
Logan had a broken nose, Mason required two stitches to keep his lower lip intact, but it was Jenna who ended up hurt the worst.
She had a concussion, a bruised cheekbone, an imploded relationship, and a firm order from her parents that she was not to see Mason, who had apparently thrown the first punch, for a month.
Jeremy was christened on a bitterly cold day in January. Jenna wore a navy dress this time with thick tights, her hair gathered in a ponytail; John sat beside her, his arms full of Elena, who had successfully squirmed her way free of all three of her grandparents to reach her uncle. As Richard and Liz renounced Satan in Jeremy's name, Jenna's eyes couldn't help but wander towards John, who was running a soothing hand down Elena's back as she drifted off to sleep on his shoulder, her tiny fist clutching his silk tie.
But it was the expression on John's face which made Jenna's heart melt. As he softly shushed Elena, rocking minutely back and forth, John looked...light, as if the greatest thing he had ever done was soothe his fussy 18-month-old niece.
“You are so whipped,” Jenna whispered, running a finger down the smooth skin of Elena's arm.
“You're just saying that because she loves me more,” John whispered back, a small smile playing at his lips.
As soon as the ceremony was over, Jenna rose, smoothing her skirt, filing out of the pew. She watched as Grayson almost immediately took Elena from John's arms, jostling the girl awake and making her whine, and Jenna did not understand the shadow which passed over John's face or the silent exchange which seemed to occur between the brothers.
It made her feel better to know John and Grayson didn't really get along anymore; it helped alleviate her own guilt for resenting Miranda.
Jenna was barely out of the pew when John grabbed her forearm. She waited, knowing what question was about to pass through his lips.
“Want to get out of here?”
They ended up the Gilbert house, John tossing his coat and tie over the back of the couch, his body language telegraphing how upset he was about something. Jenna followed him into what had once been Dr. Gilbert's office, watched as he pulled a bottle of scotch out of the liquor cabinet there, took a swig from the bottle, and then held it out to her.
“No, thanks.”
As John began to drink from the bottle, Jenna felt an unbearable need to fill the silence. “So when do you go back to school? Mom and Dad have been trying to get me to look at colleges, but I'm not really sure - “
The rest of Jenna's words were swallowed by John's mouth, now pressing powerfully against her own. She stumbled slightly as John walked her backwards, the wall stopping their progress, and Jenna couldn't help but moan as his scotch-soaked tongue slid against her own, his hands cupping her face to hold her in place. Jenna had only ever kissed two boys in her life, and neither had kissed her the way John was. It simultaneously thrilled and terrified her, the edge of desperation to his kisses, the way his hands twisted the hem of her dress, working it up over her hips.
“Wait,” Jenna gasped, whimpering as John drew his teeth lightly over a tendon in her neck, making everything beneath her waist clench in want. “John...”
“I want you,” John murmured against her throat, his lips never ceasing their exploration of her skin. “C'mon, Jen. I just want to make you feel good.”
She had never had sex with her clothes on before, her tights discarded, skirt rucked up over her hips; she had never straddled someone on a leather desk chair, balanced precariously on her knees as she ground her hips down to meet every stroke. And she had never come quite so hard as she did when John grasped her hair, pulled her face down to his, and panted into her mouth, “Fuck, Jen, don't stop.”
It was strange, Jenna found, sleeping with someone you knew without knowing, someone who had never so much as smiled at you in public but was willing to go down on you so you'd be wet enough to ride him in his dead father's chair. She wasn't sure what she was supposed to do while John ducked into the bathroom to dispose of the condom, how she was supposed to act when he returned. Jenna picked up her tights off the floor, rolling them into a ball and tucking them into her purse. As she tried to work her hair back into the ponytail John had taken out, Jenna caught sight of her reflection in a decorative mirror in the hallway and flushed brightly in shame at how thoroughly debauched she looked.
“Do you want me to drop you at Miranda's or your house?” John asked as he came out of the bathroom, his face back to the impenetrable mask Jenna was used to seeing.
“Um, mine, I guess.”
She didn't say anything in the car, her legs cold against the leather seats. When the car stopped in front of her house, Jenna waited for John to say something, anything, but instead he leaned across the seat, opening the door for her.
“I'll see you, Jen.”
It would be a year before Jenna saw John Gilbert again.
Jenna didn't particularly want to go to college, but, like with most things, her parents didn't care what she thought, especially when she got her SAT scores back and did far better than anyone had anticipated. Her mother sat her down one day and forced her to pick four schools to apply to, refusing to let her leave the table until she had done so.
“What else are you going to do, Jenna Rose, wait tables?” Diane asked as she pulled plates out of the cupboard to set the table.
“Guess I'll just have to marry rich like Miranda did.”
Slamming the silverware down, Diane snapped, “You could stand to be a little more like your sister! She never spent her afternoons in detention. She never got picked up by the Sheriff for smoking marijuana! She never had to be forced to look at colleges!”
“Yeah, and she hasn't done anything with her perfect self and high-priced education except run bake sales and drink Bloody Marys with the other women who've managed to fuck their way to the right side of the tracks!”
It took a moment for Jenna to connect the sharp sound of flesh hitting flesh and the stinging in her cheek. As the realization that her mother had slapped her sunk in, Jenna felt angry fears of frustration fill her eyes, her entire body vibrating with emotion.
“We do not speak that way in this house, and you will not talk about your sister that way!”
Pushing her chair back, sending it tumbling to the ground, Jenna shouted, “Well, trust me, as soon as I can get out of this house, I will!”
Jenna would later determine that this was the argument which fractured her relationship with her mother so badly, it would never quite recover. But, at seventeen, all Jenna knew was that it was that the suspicion her mother preferred Miranda had not been unfounded.
“You're not actually going to do this college thing, are you?” Mason asked as he and Jenna washed Mark Lockwood's car in the high school parking lot, helping their classmates raise money for the senior trip.
Jenna sighed, aggressively scrubbing a hubcap. “I got three acceptances and one rejection, but Dad says I have to go where they gave me the most aid.”
“Which is?”
“University of Maryland, here I come,” she reported flatly.
“Maryland? Why don't you just say 'fuck off' and come with me on the most epic roadtrip ever?”
Jenna laughed. “Um, because I don't have a massive trust fund which allows me to bum around the country indefinitely?”
Mason shrugged, waving his hand as if it was a minor detail. “I've got more than enough money for both of us. Plus, if I don't go to college, I get all the money in my college fund when I turn twenty-two, so it's not like I'm going to run out any time soon.”
“I'm not spending your money.”
“But it's just money.”
“Spoken like a guy with a double trust fund.” Dodging the soapy sponge Mason threw at her, Jenna added, “Besides, my parents are never going to let me just hop into your truck and ride into the sunset.”
“Then I guess it's a good thing you'll be eighteen by then.” Slinging an arm around her shoulders, he encouraged, “Just think about it. I'm doing the roadtrip either way, but it'd be a hell of a lot more fun with you.”
Before Jenna could respond, a familiar voice asked, “Think you can do mine next?”
Jenna and Mason both turned to see Logan standing there, hands tucked into the pockets of his shorts, a self-deprecating smile on his face. When neither said anything, Logan gestured to his car and said, “Just trying to do my part for the Class of '96.”
Mason didn't say anything, walking to the other side of the parking lot, leaving Jenna standing there, awkwardly clutching her sponge. Picking up the bucket of soapy water, she followed Logan to his car, wincing as he said, “I don't know why he's still so angry. I'm the one who got his nose broken.”
“You deserved it,” Jenna reminded him.
Logan sighed. “Look, Jen, I know I fucked everything up - “
“Yeah, you did.” Shaking her head, she pointed to the curb. “People wait over there until we're done.”
“Jenna, I just want a second chance - “
“You had a second chance,” she cut in angrily, “and you used it to call me and my sister whores.”
“I was drunk, and I've changed. I swear to God, I have changed. You know how much I love you.” Stepping closer, he added, “And I've missed you every day we've been apart. I just want a shot at proving - “
“I have to wash cars right now.”
Logan sighed with a nod. “Could I buy you dinner when you're done? Just to talk,” he quickly added. “I mean, we can still be friends, right?”
Jenna wasn't sure why she nodded before pointing him back towards the waiting area. As soon as Logan was out of earshot, Mason sidled up beside her and said, “You were one of those kids that had to touch the stove just to see for yourself that it was hot, weren't you?”
“Shut up.”
“Back with Logan again.”
Jenna looked up from changing Jeremy's diaper to find John standing over her. Elena's third birthday party was taking place in the backyard, and, in her desperation to escape screaming toddlers, she had volunteered to change Jeremy and put him inside for his nap.
“I'm not in the mood today, John.”
Jenna had seen him twice in the past year, both of which had ended with her feeling like shit after sleeping with him and vowing never to do it again. She had come to dread it, John's haphazard appearances in her life and her seeming inability to make a single, intelligent decision when it came to him.
“Grayson says you're going to Baltimore. What a happy coincidence that's where Logan goes.”
Ignoring him, Jenna scooped Jeremy up, getting to her feet. As she moved to pass him, John caught her elbow, stilling her movement.
“John, I swear to God - “
“You should ask Logan about Monica.”
“Monica? Monica who?” When John said nothing, she snapped, “Look, I think it's really petty you're - “
“Monica is his girlfriend at UVA,” John interrupted.
“You're lying.”
“I saw him at a party with her two weeks ago. You've been back together, what, six?”
Forgetting the toddle in her arms, Jenna spat, “You're a fucking liar.”
“Ask him,” he challenged.
“I'm not asking him anything. Stay out of my life.”
John held up his hands, taking a step back. “I'm just trying to help before you make the biggest mistake of your life.”
Jenna opened her mouth, prepared to let loose the vilest stream of profanity to have ever passed through her lips, when Elena came tearing into the house, her dark curls flying behind her, squealing, “Uncle John, play with me!”
For the rest of the party, Jenna could hear John's words echoing in her head, taunting her. The moment Elena finally crashed from her sugar coma, she drove over to the Fell house, finding Logan and Brad playing catch on the front lawn. Logan waved, smiling broadly as she got out of her car, and Jenna braced herself, trying to prepare for whatever was about to unfold.
“Hey, baby. I was just telling Brad - “
“Who's Monica?” she cut in. As Logan froze, shock obvious on his face, she instantly knew John had been telling the truth.
Jenna waited for the anger to come, for the rage and desire to scratch open his face, but all that came was an overwhelming rush of sadness and disappointment in herself, in the way she had so obviously misjudged everything in her life.
“Jenna, I swear it's over - “
“With me,” she interrupted, wiping at the tears now rolling down her cheeks. “I don't ever want to see you again. You...You are the worst thing that has ever happened to me, and I hope someday you get what you deserve.”
“Jenna!”
As she drove away from Logan, she never looked back.
“Is that offer still good?”
Mason stared at her from beneath his mortarboard, a smile on his beautiful face. “If you mean the offer to take a look at the goods, you're out of luck; my mom made sure I was wearing clothes under my gown.”
Rolling her eyes, she clarified, “I meant the roadtrip. Can I still come?”
Surprise registering in his bright blue eyes, Mason nodded immediately. “Fuck yeah! You're really in?”
“I need to get as far away from Mystic Falls as humanly possible. And three months with my best friend won't suck either.”
Slinging an arm around her shoulders, Mason declared, “We are going to tear this country up.”
She didn't tell anyone she was going. After eighteen years of feeling like everything had been a fight, Jenna packed her father's old duffel, wrote a very short note explaining she was going with Mason, and then snuck out of her bedroom window for the last time.
As the sun rose over Mystic Falls, Jenna threw her bag in the bed of Mason's truck, climbed into the cab, and ordered, “Don't stop driving until we reach the end of the world, okay?”
Mason nodded obediently, pulling her across the bench seat, tucking her tightly against his body. As they crossed the border into Kentucky, Jenna exhaled, her entire body relaxing as she put as much space as she could between herself, Logan Fell, and John Gilbert.
Calling her parents to let them know she was okay was only going to lead to fighting; she also knew a phone call to Miranda would have the same outcome. And it was for that reason Jenna called Grayson's office.
“You know how upset your family is, right?” Grayson asked after Jenna reported she and Mason had safely arrived in Southern California.
“I didn't want to piss anyone off. I just needed a break from reality, you know?”
Grayson sighed. “Are you going to be back for school in the fall?”
“Of course,” Jenna swore even though she had no idea if it was true or not. “Look, I just wanted to let you know I'm fine, Mason's fine, and we're having fun.”
“How are you set for money?”
Smiling at his sweetness, Jenna assured him, “We're fine, Gray. Give Elena and Jeremy big kisses for me, okay?”
As she hung up the pay phone, Jenna looked across the boardwalk to see Mason renting two surfboards. He had been talking about learning to surf since somewhere in the Midwest, insisting that she was going to learn too; Jenna had protested until he pointed out how he had bungee-jumped in Texas because she was too chicken to do it alone.
“One more adventure to cross off the list,” Mason said as she came up next to him, accepting her surfboard.
“How long is this list?”
“However long we want it to be.” Grinning broadly, he added, “That's the beauty of freedom, Jay.”
They were camping in Colorado, the rain having trapped them inside the two-man tent Mason had purchased when they stopped at Yellowstone, when Mason, who was reclining back on his elbows opposite her, jostled her ankle and requested, “Tell me a secret.”
Jenna, who was mimicking his position, retorted, “You know all my secrets.”
“Bullshit,” he argued without rancor. “Everyone has a few deep, dark secrets they don't tell people. Hit me with one.”
“I slept with John.”
Mason's eyes bulged. “No way. When?”
She shrugged. “A few different times.”
“Why?”
“You mean other than that I'm a self-destructive mess when it comes to relationships and I only pick guys who will treat me like crap?”
“Do you, like, love him?”
Jenna scoffed, reaching for one of the joints she had rolled earlier in the day. “Are you kidding? I don't even like him ninety percent of the time.” Inhaling deeply, blowing smoke rings she had perfected in the Lockwood slave quarters, Jenna added, “But sometimes I get this glimpse of the person he could be or should be...I don't know. Chalk it up to one of the bad decisions I left in Virginia.” Nudging him with her leg, she asked, “What about you? What's your secret?”
Mason shifted, his face becoming serious. He drug his finger idly down the length of her leg, his thumb stroking the curve of her ankle before he murmured, “The day before my dad had his stroke, I punched him in the face.”
“What?”
Gesturing for her to pass the joint, Mason explained, “My dad, he was a real bastard. Even when I wasn't getting in trouble, it was constant: you're no son of mine, you're a smear on the Lockwood name, etc, etc. Anyway, when the Sheriff picked us up for smoking under the bleachers, my mom didn't tell him because she knew.”
“Knew what?”
“That he'd beat the shit out of me. Anyway, about a week later when he ran into the Sheriff at the Founders' Council meeting, Dad found out. I was sitting on the couch when he came in, and he just fucking belted me right across the jaw. And he just kept hitting me, telling me how worthless I was, how he was going to send me away, and I snapped. I got up, and, when he swung again, I caught his hand and punched him, threw all my weight behind it. I thought I broke his jaw, but he just got up, walked away.” Reaching for his beer, he finished, “Next morning, I woke up to Mom screaming for someone to call an ambulance.”
Remembering how badly a single slap from her mother had wounded her, all Jenna could say was, “Jesus, Mase.”
“That town, it warps people, makes them monsters. We're better than that place.”
No one had ever told Jenna she was better than anything, but Mason said it with such absolute certainty she could not help but believe him.
They were sweating one night in a motel outside of the Badlands, both of them stripped down to their underwear, the ancient air-conditioner rattling in the window, a cheesy horror movie on the television, when Jenna suddenly blurted out, “Why have we never slept together?”
Mason laughed, his body shaking the queen-sized bed they were sharing. “Where the fuck did that come from?”
Jenna would have stuttered in embarrassment, but, over the past two months, any barriers which had still existed between them had been effectively erased, including her ability to blush. “I don't know. I was just thinking it's weird that we've never done anything when you pretty much stick it in everything.”
“You know, if this is you trying to get in my pants, your sweet talking is a pretty strange.”
She slapped his abs with the back of her hand. “I don't want in your pants. I'm just...You never thought about it? Even once?”
“Well, maybe a time or two...in the shower...when I'm feeling a little tense...” Mason trailed off, wiggling his eyebrows with innuendo.
Jenna rolled her eyes, reaching for the remote. “You know what? Never mind.”
Later, as Jenna drifted towards sleep, she vaguely heard Mason turn off the television, adjusting his body beside hers. And then, so soft she almost missed it, Mason revealed, “I think about it all the time.”
She turned onto her side to face him, blinking the sleep from her eyes. “Huh?”
Staying flat on his back, Mason said, his voice a little stronger, “You're the love of my life, Jay. I don't doubt that for even a second. When I'm with you, I don't care about anything else in the world but being with you. And I could spend every second of every day with you until the day we die, and I'd be perfectly content.” Clearing his throat, he continued, “But the second we sleep together, the second I even kiss you, it's going to add this whole new dimension for me to fuck up, and I'd rather have you be my best friend for the rest of my life than have you be my girlfriend for a few months.”
Jenna blinked back the tears in her eyes, exhaling shakily. When she trusted her voice, she whispered, “You know I love you like that too, right?”
Mason nodded, reaching for her hand, pulling it against his chest. Jenna could feel the steady rhythm of his heart beneath her palm, a soothing lullaby rocking her towards sleep.
They were in Tennessee, ten hours separating them from Mystic Falls, when Mason suddenly pulled his truck on the shoulder and said, “Don't go.”
“What? Mase - “
“You don't want to go to Maryland, and you sure as fuck don't want to be seeing Logan around campus. College is always going to be there, but...Let's just keep driving. Let's start new lives, be new people, far, far away from Mystic Falls, Virginia.”
When she called her parents from a rest stop to tell them she wasn't coming home, Diane warned, “Do not throw away your future because some boy broke your heart!”
That's what no one would ever understand: it was never about Logan.
It was always about Mason.
After two years of living out of motel rooms and campgrounds, Mason entered their motel room of the week and spread out a map of the United States. Jenna stared at it, waiting for him to point out their next path, when he said, “I'm getting kind of sick of the road. You pick a place and we'll get an apartment or something.”
She picked the Emerald Coast of Florida because it sounded magical, like one of the places in the fairytales she used to read to Elena; Mason picked the house, a fully-furnished two-bedroom rental on the beach. It was nowhere near as grand as the other beach homes, the furniture was all wicker, and it smelled vaguely of the elderly couple who owned it, but Jenna loved it.
Mason spent his days surfing or fishing, his skin permanently tanned from his activities; Jenna read every book the library had to offer and spent afternoons talking to the never-ending stream of tourists. In the evenings, they'd sit on the enclosed porch overlooking the ocean, drink a little too much, smoke until the world got a little hazy; sometimes they'd end up at one of the nightclubs in town, finding people to bring home, burning off the tension they have mutually decided never to attend to with each other. One of her hook-ups had brought coke once; Jenna inhaled the line cleanly off the glass coffee table and proceeded to spend the next three hours a paranoid, jittery mess. Another night one of Mason's girls had Ecstasy, and somehow Jenna had ended up fooling around with Mason's girl while he watched.
They weren't in Mystic Falls anymore; none of the old rules applied.
Neither of them called home that often, Jenna because she did not want to receive another lecture, Mason because he simply had nothing to say. And yet, like clockwork, Miranda called her every Sunday afternoon at three o'clock, ever the dutiful big sister.
“We're having a 40th anniversary party for Mom and Dad,” Miranda reported one Sunday as Jenna idly filled in a crossword puzzle. “It would really mean a lot if you came.”
“Miranda - “
“It's been almost three years since any of us have seen you, Jenna. This has surpassed being rebellious and has now ventured into complete ridiculousness.”
Bristling with anger, Jenna said, “Look, I have to - “
“What are you going to do, just bum around, get high, and live off of Mason's trust fund forever? Don't you have enough pride in yourself to want more? Do you even know what people are saying?”
“I don't care what a bunch of bored housewives say about me,” she snapped, prompting Mason to look up from the football game he was watching. “And, if memory serves, it isn't the Sommers' family fortune which pays for your lifestyle.”
Miranda was quiet for so long, Jenna suspected she had hung up. And then, in the coolly collected voice Jenna recognized from when Miranda worked with children, she stated, “The party is on the 18th of next month at the Grill. If you're willing to be a part of this family, you'll show up and wear something nice.”
She didn't intend to throw the cordless phone, but it was out of her hands before she realized it, breaking apart as it hit the wall. Mason sat in observation before venturing, “I'm guessing Miranda didn't want to talk about the weather.”
Shaking her head, she said, “I don't want to talk about it,” before disappearing into her room, slamming the door behind her.
It was the middle of the night when Jenna stole across the hallway, pushing open Mason's bedroom door the way she had a thousand times before. The light of the full moon spilled in between the slats of the blinds, making Mason's smooth skin glow. He was lying face down in the center of his mattress completely naked, the massive tattoo he had gotten in Nevada a year earlier on full display; it had taken three weeks for it to be completed, and only Jenna could find the letter “J” hidden in the picture, the same way only Mason knew where the “M” was camouflaged in the tattoo on her hip. She trailed her finger up the back of his leg, swinging around the curve of his ass, swirling in a haphazard pattern on the small of his back.
Like a cat, Mason followed her touch before murmuring into his pillow, “It's illegal to sneak into sleeping people's beds and molest them.”
“I'm not molesting you,” she argued in a whisper, tracing the lines of his tattoo. “I haven't touched you anywhere inappropriate.”
“I can roll over if it'll make it easier.”
Jenna smiled, a rush of affection overcoming her, and she leaned over, pressing her face against the warm skin of his back, wrapping herself around his body as best she could. Mason shifted slightly, reaching backwards and tugging at her body until she was half-underneath him. She raised one hand, running her fingertips over his features, and Mason smiled, sad and affectionate.
“You're leaving, aren't you?”
Jenna nodded, tears spilling over onto her cheeks. She began to speak, but her words came out as a sob, and Mason began to shush her, brushing kisses against her forehead, her eyes. Jenna clung to him, her hands gripping his shoulders as tightly as she could manage, her legs winding around his waist; she sobbed into Mason's neck, burrowing her face into his collarbone, and all she could manage was, “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.”
“Don't be sorry,” he soothed, sliding his hands beneath her body, turning them so Jenna was in his lap. “I thought I was going to get you for three months, and I got you for three years. You don't owe me anything, Jay; I'm a big boy.”
“I just don't - I don't want you to think - I don't want to disappoint you - “
“Hey,” he cut in, resting his thumb against her lips. “I am the one person you never have to worry about disappointing. It's not like we're never going to see each other again.”
Jenna nodded, wiping at her face. “I just need - “
“You don't owe me an explanation. It's okay.” Pulling her into his arms, his chest sealed tightly against hers, Mason murmured against her hair, “But I'm really going to miss you.”
She had just finished her very last final of her college career, practically bouncing with the knowledge she would have her bachelor's degree in psychology in her hands within two weeks, when Grayson called her. Jenna dug frantically in her bag to find her cell, nearly upending the bag entirely before finally gasping out, “Hello?”
“Jenna, you need to come home.”
“Come home? Gray, I just rocked my neuroscience final and have senior week staring at me, so - “
“There's been an accident.”
No one knew exactly how it happened. The nearest they could figure out, there was a malfunction with the mechanism which kept the trees on the truck. As her father was walking around the flatbed, the buckle broke, sending thousands of pounds of lumber onto his body. His torso had been crushed, broken ribs puncturing his lungs; he was already gone by the time the ambulance arrived.
The days following her father's death were a blur. By the time Jenna made it back to Mystic Falls from Philadelphia, the kitchen of her parents' home was overflowing with food brought over by the neighbors and mill employees. Her mother was practically catatonic, shuffling around as if she did not know what was going on; Miranda slept in her old bedroom, taking care of everything, driving Diane to the funeral home and church to make the arrangements. While Grayson worked, Jenna tried to do her best to keep Elena and Jeremy occupied, to keep herself occupied.
Jenna was holding Jeremy's hand as they walked down the aisle to the front pew. She sat between Jeremy and Miranda, listening as Reverend Fell eulogized her father, listing his accomplishments, discussing the life of Russell Sommers as if they had been old friends. As the Reverend began to talk about how proud her father had been of his daughters, Jenna started to cry.
Her father had not been proud of her; Jenna was certain of this. When she came back from Florida, neither of her parents had spoken to her for the first week; her father hadn't engaged her in a full conversation until after her first semester at Temple. He had never quite forgiven her for running off with Mason, for eschewing any kind of responsibility for three years, for embarrassing the family.
The last time she had seen her father, it had been Easter. She had come out of her bedroom in the yellow sundress she planned on wearing to the Easter egg hunt Elena and Jeremy were taking part in at Founders' Hall when he had frozen stock-still and ordered her to change. Confused, Jenna looked down, trying to figure out what was wrong; it wasn't until he started shouting she realized he did not want any of her tattoos to show.
Miranda's arm wrapped around her shoulders, her own tears mixing with Jenna's, and, for the first time since she was a child, Jenna remembered just how much she loved her sister.
“When are you coming down for a visit?”
Jenna smiled at Mason's idea of a greeting. “I start grad classes in two days.”
“So?”
“So the whole Masters-Doctorate program kind of, you know, requires me attending it.”
Mason sighed over-dramatically. “But I haven't seen you since your mom's funeral, the waves are fucking perfect right now, and I want you to come play with me.”
“You know, the highway goes both ways. You could come see me.”
He scoffed. “I believe I've made my feelings on the commonwealth of Virginia perfectly clear.”
“Then you're just going to have to wait until my next break.”
“Fine,” Mason groaned as if horribly put out. “I guess I'll just have to sleep with strange women and see if the new guy next door wants to surf.”
“A new guy? What happened to the Alperns?”
“Nursing home. New guy's named Jimmy. Who knows? Maybe he'll be my new best friend.”
When her phone started ringing in the middle of the night, Jenna awoke in a panic, the result of losing both parents in a five year period. The last time her phone had rung at four in the morning, it had been Miranda calling to say their mother was in the ICU with a heart attack.
“What's wrong?” she asked the caller, her voice panicked and rough.
“I need you, Jay. I need you to come.”
“Mason? Mason, what - “
“I'll buy you a ticket,” he interrupted, his voice thick with tears. “Just please...I need you to be here.”
She sent an email to her professors, saying there was a death in the family and she would be gone for a few days before getting to the airport as quickly as she could.
By the time Jenna arrived at their old beach house, it was well after noon, the heat already brutal. When she tried the front door, Jenna found it locked; digging into her bag, she unearthed her keys, the tarnished brass standing out amongst the crisp silver keys of her new life. Immediately Jenna knew something was wrong; while never a particularly neat or organized guy, the living room was absolutely trashed, furniture overturned, the glass coffee table shattered. She shouted Mason's name right away, suddenly terrified something horrible had happened; from the bedroom, she heard a weak response. Dropping her bag, Jenna ran to find Mason spread out nude on his bed, his entire body a mishmash of bruises.
“Oh my god!” she gasped, slipping onto the mattress. Mason hissed through his teeth in pain, and Jenna immediately stopped touching his skin, stopped trying to assess how badly he was injured. “Mase, what - “
“You came.”
“Of course I came. Mason, what happened?!”
His hand crept across the bed until it found her own; entangling their fingers, he murmured, “Doesn't matter. You're here now.”
“Mason - “
“Everything hurts. Can you get me a pill?”
Jenna nodded, obediently crossing to the bathroom, finding a bottle of Vicodin in the medicine cabinet. It wasn't until she was trying to remove the cap Jenna realized how badly her hands her shaking.
As Mason slept the day away in a wave of opiate bliss, Jenna began the task of cleaning the living room. She had just finished sweeping up the glass from the coffee table when someone opened the front door. Jenna turned to see a man and a woman entering, both freezing in surprise at the sight of her.
The man was as tall as Mason but not as broad, his face covered in a rough layer of stubble; the woman was blonde, her expression borderline unfriendly, and Jenna did not recognize either of them.
“Who are you?” the man barked.
Jenna arched an eyebrow, startled by the level of rudeness in his tone. “You walked into my best friend's house. Shouldn't I be asking that question?”
“Where's Mason?”
“Sleeping. Look, I'll let him know you came by - “
“We're not going anywhere until we see Mason,” the man interrupted, stepping into Jenna's personal space. Everything in her body screamed to back away; everything in her body just plain screamed. “Now you can either move or I will move you.”
“Brady...” the woman began with warning in her voice.
“Talk to her like that again, and I'll move you,” Mason declared. Jenna spun around to see him standing at the hallway's entrance, a pair of athletic shorts hanging low on his hips, murder in his eyes.
“Mason - “
“Get out of my house, Brady.” When Brady did not move, Mason took a step forward; Jenna swore Mason got bigger as he approached, his upper body seeming to swell even broader. “I'm not telling you again.”
“Brady, let's go,” the woman said, tugging on Brady's arm. As Brady began to back towards the door, his eyes hatefully locked with Mason's, she added, her words directed towards Mason, “We're really just trying to help here. You know where to find us.”
“Bye, Jules,” Mason stated firmly. As soon as the door slammed shut, his arms were around Jenna, squeezing her tightly. “You okay, Jay?”
“Mason, what the fuck is going on?”
Kissing the crown of her head, he dodged, “It's a long, stupid story. I just fucked up, and I needed to see you. Do you hate me?”
“I could never hate you. I'm just confused. Where did all of those bruises come from?”
“I fell in the woods.” Pulling back, he smiled, clearly trying to change the subject. “I've got you for, like, thirty-six more hours, right? Let's make them count.”
“I met a girl.”
They lay in their underwear on Mason's bed, a bottle of tequila between them, passing a joint back and forth. The humidity was overwhelming, nearly choking Jenna with its thickness, and, in true Mason fashion, he had forgotten to call the air-conditioner repairman. She could smell the sea air wafting in through the open windows and screen doors, practically tasting the ocean on her lips, and she had the sudden irrational urge to never return to her tiny efficiency apartment in downtown Richmond.
“You've met a thousand girls.”
Mason chuckled. “Not like this one. Her name's Kathy. She's...God, I don't even know how to describe her.”
“Are you in love with her?”
“Not yet but I think it could get there.”
Finishing off the tequila, Jenna set the bottle on the nightstand, flashing a teasing smile his way. “Are you breaking up with me, Mason Lockwood? Is that what this whole trip has been about?”
Ignoring her question, he elaborated, “I want to give it a go with her, really try for something. I mean, we're thirty-years-old, Jay. I should be doing something with my life the way you are.”
She shrugged. “If you think this Kathy is the one, that she's your happily-ever-after, you should go for it. You deserve to be happy.”
Mason nodded, his face shadowed. “Yeah, I guess.”
Jenna knew without him explicitly stating it that this was going to be the last time they were ever like this, the last time they would ever get to be the people who had balanced on the rim on the Grand Canyon, who had been run out of a town in Alaska for starting a bar fight, who had tripped on peyote in the New Mexican desert; it was time to be grown-ups now, to put away childish things.
Just the idea of it made Jenna's eyes burn with tears.
She woke up to lips on her right hipbone, the tip of a tongue tracing the letter hidden amongst the constellation of stars there; her underwear were rolled down her thighs, one large, masculine handing resting on her flat stomach, and it took Jenna a moment to reconcile the sensation with the sight of top of Mason's dark head. She said his name once - a question, a request, a warning - and Mason's blue eyes flicked upwards to meet her gaze.
“You're mine,” he murmured against her skin, drawing his teeth lightly across the design, making her entire body tremble with want. “No matter what happens, I'm literally a part of you the way you're a part of me. What we have, Jay...That's forever love.”
Jenna nodded, too afraid of the words building in her throat to say anything.
The phone rang at one-thirty in the morning, startling Jenna out of the first decent night's sleep she had in weeks. Grabbing her cell off the nightstand, she growled, “Mason, I swear to God - “
“It's not Mason,” John cut in, his voice strangely subdued.
“John? What are you - “
“There's been an accident, Jen.” His voice clogged with tears, he continued, “Miranda and Grayson didn't make it. You need to get here.”
Jenna had once read that a boy did not become a man until his father died.
It wasn't until she was ten miles outside of Mystic Falls Jenna realized she was going to be more lost without Miranda than she ever was without her parents.
CHAPTER SEVEN: ISOBEL FLEMMING-SALTZMAN