Mason Beckett was everything you wanted. Smart, handsome, athletic—and so annoyingly sweet. The kind of guy who held doors open, sent “drive safe” texts, and, unfortunately, treated you like a kid. Which was ridiculous because three years wasn’t that big of a deal. You were seventeen, and he was twenty. That wasn’t scandalous. It was practically nothing.

Except, in Mason’s world, it was everything.

Not to mention, he was your best friend’s uncle. Which sounded way worse than it actually was. Lizzie’s grandparents had him in their late 30s, so Mason was only a few years older than you guys. Still, he took his uncle duties way too seriously. And by "uncle duties," that meant giving you disapproving looks whenever you so much as looked at a guy at a party.

Like tonight.

You and Lizzie weren’t supposed to be there, but that was kind of the deal between you two. She was your good influence; you were her bad one. Balance. And sure, maybe you got a little distracted, maybe you weren’t keeping the best eye on her, but you had a lot going on at home. You deserved a night to forget about it.

Too bad Mason didn’t see it that way.

Now, he was sitting in his car outside your apartment, silent, fingers tapping against the steering wheel. Lizzie was already dropped off, peacefully asleep, while you were stuck in the world’s longest awkward silence.

"What the hell were you thinking?" he finally asked, voice low and—ugh—disappointed. "Going to that party? With her?"