desertion

151

MASON

I'm not proud of the way I've been acting lately. Avoiding eye contact with Lydia, snapping at people for no good reason, finding excuses to bury myself in busywork. It's pathetic, honestly. But every time I see her, it's like someone's taken a crowbar to the walls I've spent years building. And I can't take it anymore.

The worst part? I know I can't do a damn thing about it. She just got out of a long-term relationship, and from the way she talks about Miles—when she actually does—it's clear the breakup wasn't easy. She's trying to move on, trying to heal. And me coming in with some grand confession about how I feel? It would only make things worse.

So, I do what I've always done: shove it all down and hope no one notices.

"Hey, Mason, you okay?"

Lydia's voice pulls me out of my thoughts. I look up from my desk to find her standing in front of me, holding two cups of coffee. She looks tired, like she didn't get much sleep last night, but her smile is as bright as ever.

"Yeah," I lie, forcing a smile. "Why wouldn't I be?"

She tilts her head, studying me like she always does. It's unsettling how easily she can see through me.

"I don't know," she says, setting one of the cups in front of me. "You just seem... off. Want to talk about it?"

No. Yes. God, I don't even know anymore.

"I'm fine," I say instead, taking a sip of the coffee. It's black, just the way I like it. She remembered. Of course, she did.

She doesn't look convinced, but she doesn't push it. Instead, she sits down at her desk across from mine and starts going through some case files. I watch her for a moment, the way her brow furrows in concentration, the way she taps her pen against the table when she's deep in thought.

How the hell did I let this happen?

By lunchtime, my frustration has reached a boiling point. Not with Lydia—never with Lydia—but with myself. With the situation. With the damn cards I was dealt.

I grew up in chaos. A mother who drowned her problems in alcohol and a father who barely remembered I existed. I used to think I was fine with that, that I didn't need anyone. But Lydia... she's changed everything.

And now, I'm stuck in this endless loop of wanting something I can't have.

"Okay, spill it," Lydia says, breaking the silence.

We're sitting in the breakroom, eating sandwiches from the deli down the street. Well, she's eating. I'm just picking at mine.

"Spill what?" I ask, trying to play dumb.

She rolls her eyes. "Whatever's been bothering you all day. Don't think I haven't noticed."

"I'm fine, Lydia," I say, a little too sharply.

Her eyes narrow, and I immediately regret my tone.

"Mason," she says, her voice softer now. "You don't have to tell me, but don't lie to me, okay?"

I let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through my hair. "It's nothing. Just... personal stuff."

She nods, her expression understanding. "If you ever want to talk, I'm here."

And that's the problem, isn't it? She's always there, always offering me this unconditional kindness that I don't deserve.

By the time the day is over, I've made up my mind. I can't keep doing this. I can't keep torturing myself like this.

I walk out of the building with every intention of quitting the internship tomorrow. It's the only way to get away from this mess.

But as I'm unlocking my car, Lydia calls out to me.

"Hey, Mason, wait up!"

I turn to see her jogging toward me, her bag slung over one shoulder.

"You forgot this," she says, holding up the notebook I'd left on my desk.

"Thanks," I mutter, taking it from her.

She hesitates, her eyes searching mine. "You sure you're okay?"

No. I'm not okay. I'm a mess, Lydia. And it's all because of you.. What am I saying? She's perfect.

"I'm fine," I say instead, forcing a smile.

She doesn't look convinced, but she lets it go. "Okay. See you tomorrow?"

I nod, watching as she walks away.

And just like that, my resolve crumbles.

I can't quit. I can't walk away from her. Not when she's the only good thing in my life right now.

So, I'll keep showing up. I'll keep pretending everything's fine. And maybe, someday, I'll figure out a way to tell her how I feel.

But not today.