Lemonade (WLGYL #2)

Chapter 11-Present

 On my day off of work, the first official day of Mason living in the apartment, I managed to avoid him for breakfast. He was still in his room as I cooked scrambled eggs and bacon, my comfort meal. Lord only knew I needed some comfort. I knew I wouldn't be able to ignore Mason forever.

After breakfast, as I walked out of my room with my empty plate in hand, I finally saw him. Mason looked the same as always. Effortlessly good-looking. Even though I had just seen him at his graduation, I was still a little stunned. His hair was sticking up in the back and his eyes behind his glasses were tired; Mason was never a morning person.

He looked up from his cereal as I stepped into the kitchen. "Morning," he said, his eyes wary, like he was letting me decide how we would interact. The problem was, I didn't know how to act around Mason now.

"Good morning," I said. Too formal. I stepped around Mason to reach the dishwasher. Even though he was standing a few inches away from me, I could feel the heat from his body near mine. I was always extra sensitive to all things Mason.

Mason leaned against the sink, his arms stretched out behind him. His eyes were on me even as I bent down to put my dirty dishes in the dishwasher. This was our first time alone together in the apartment. In our apartment. "So," he started as I got back up. He paused.

I raised my eyebrows, prompting him.

Mason shifted his gaze away from me. His fingers pattered nervously against the countertop behind him, tapping each time for a word left unsaid.

I. Tap. Missed. Tap. You. Tap.

I missed you too, I wanted to say. I missed how we used to be. But I couldn't say that, of course I couldn't. So I stayed silent.

Mason cleared his throat. "I need a bed," he said finally.

"A bed?" A simple enough request, but with Mason's eyes burning on mine, I couldn't comprehend anything he was saying. "Amara left her bed."

He gave a crooked smile. "I was sleeping on a futon for most of college, and if I'll be staying in L.A. for the foreseeable future, I'll need a big boy bed. I don't want to use your roommate's."

Right. That made sense.

"Want to come with me? I could use your womanly interior design knowledge."

I contemplated. Furniture shopping with Mason sounded like it could either be awkward—after all, we hadn't officially "hung out" in years—or it could be a good basis for a rekindled friendship. I decided on the latter. "Okay. I can help."

Mason nodded. "So," he continued, his eyes dancing, "where does one go to get furniture around here?"

I almost scoffed. Mason and I used to go to IKEA together, walking through the displays and pretending it was part of our future house. Like I was already Mrs. Masterson. He knew exactly what he was doing by asking that. By asking me to come with him at all, in fact. I fought the urge to roll my eyes, but I smiled anyway. "I'll lead the way."

Mason laughed, and everything immediately felt easier, like the tension in the air dissipated with the sound. "You're the boss." He grabbed his keys and wallet off the counter and gestured towards the door.

I raised my eyebrows. "And don't you forget it."

***

I paused next to Mason's parking spot, staring. He had a different car than he used to. It was a bigger car, a Mazda, black and with lots of trunk space. Completely different from his old Honda. I knew things could change in two years, but I didn't realize they'd be so permanent. I didn't even know what made me hesitate. So what if Mason had a new car? Did that really matter?