The Last Paper Star

Mason Blackwell looked down at me with his brows drawn together, but he didn't say anything.

He'd always been like that. When he wore that cold expression, he could scare people off and send them running a mile away, but I knew he simply didn't know how to put his feelings into words.

Like freshman year, when I stayed home with a high fever and he slipped three days of class notes under my door after school without sending so much as a text.

Or every birthday, when he was always the first person to leave a present on my desk.

So no, I'd never loved him without reason.

But in my last life, that video consumed me. I spent every day distracted, bombed the entrance exams, and ended up at an ordinary state university in our city.

Given another chance, I chose to leave them behind completely and study overseas.

Paige Monroe walked over with her hands on her hips.

"Seriously? Is all this necessary? It was one video, and it wasn't even real. Do you have any idea how long I had to beg Mason before he agreed? I practically talked myself hoarse."

Her voice was light and spoiled, carrying the careless entitlement of someone who'd been indulged her whole life.

"I only did it because you've been so tense about exams lately. I wanted to play a joke and help you relax. You're not really this bad at taking a joke, are you?"

Mason glanced at her, his voice still cold.

"Enough."

Then he turned toward me.

"You were the one who said better grades deserved a reward, weren't you?"

I froze.

At the start of senior year, Ms. Sherman, our homeroom teacher, had formed peer tutoring groups.

Paige, the prettiest girl in class, had been assigned to Mason and me. Her grades were near the bottom, and our teacher wanted the two top students to help her.

Mason's face had gone dark enough to make it look as though someone owed him a fortune.

During break, he said impatiently, "I'm not tutoring her. Have her switch groups."

I shook my head.

"The teacher already assigned the groups. Where is she supposed to go?"

His pen kept moving, but his voice dropped.

"That's her problem. It has nothing to do with me."

I spent a long time persuading him.

"Treat it as a favor to me, okay?"

He was silent for a while before saying, "Do whatever you want."

With both of us helping, Paige's grades really did improve.

I was thrilled and suggested to Mason that we give her a small reward.

Without looking up from his physics competition workbook, Mason said, "Your call."

So whenever Paige improved on a test, we prepared a small surprise.

Sometimes it was a milkshake. Sometimes it was a handwritten encouragement card from me.

I never imagined Paige's rewards would one day become her excuse to cling to Mason.

Paige tilted her head at me.

"Why aren't you saying anything? Are you really mad?"

I came back to myself and looked at the two of them.

"I'm fine. I just want to go home and study."

I picked up my backpack and turned away.

Footsteps sounded behind me. Mason was following.

"Hannah Whitaker."

He called me by my full name. I didn't turn around.

Paige's voice chased after us.

"Mason, wait. I'm not finished talking to you."

The footsteps stopped.

When I got home, the house was dark.

I felt my way to my room, tossed my backpack onto the bed, and pulled out my journal.

I'd bought it in eighth grade and written in it on and off ever since. All kinds of random things were tucked between the pages.

Movie-ticket stubs from outings with Mason, the gold leaf-shaped bookmark he'd given me, and the notebook where he'd collected my mistakes from old tests.

I turned to the newest page and had just pressed my pen to the paper when someone knocked.

Three long knocks and one short.

No one else in the world knocked in Mason's rhythm.