Dusk & Dawn

Chapter 30

Music carried through the air, emanating from the makeshift speakers strategically placed along the beach. Mismatched house speakers, an eclectic array of shapes and colours, were ingeniously connected to an old-school MP3 player. Towering against the wooden pillars that separated the beach from the sandy car park.

Mason extended his hand towards me, an irresistible invitation that no person could turn down. With a charming smile, his dimples on full display, he stood there, waiting. Nervously, yet excitedly, I carefully placed my hand in his, knowing that slow dancing was uncharted territory for me. Tonight was filled with firsts, pushing me beyond my comfort zone, and I couldn't help but notice that the more I ventured out, the more life had to offer.

His fingers interlocked with mine, while his other hand held my waist. I couldn't resist giving him a fair warning, anticipating some clumsy moves.
"Before we start, I should let you know that I've never done this before. So, sorry in advance if I step on your feet," I confessed, unable to keep my eyes off our dancing feet. I felt his chest rumble with laughter as our bodies pressed against each other, igniting a longing for something more.

"Just follow my lead. I've got you," he whispered softly in my ear. Still looking down, I felt his hand gently tilt my chin, urging me to look at him.

"Do you always keep your eyes on the ground?" he smirked. I shook my head, feeling a blush rise to my cheeks.

"Not always. I used to always look at the ground when I walked as a kid to avoid eye contact. When I'm not thinking about it I just automatically look down. It's a habit" I explained, shrugging off the weight of my past.

"Those eyes of yours should never be looking at ground," Mason whispered, his warm breath brushing against my lips. For a few seconds, our eyes met, before I nervously looked away, laughing. I prayed he couldn't feel the rapid thumping of my heart, though our bodies pressed so close together, I had no doubt he could.

Mason spun me around, transforming me into a graceful ballerina. Laughter escaped my lips as he playfully tugged my arm, causing our bodies to collide with a soft thud. Clutching my chest, I giggled while he held his stomach, both of us laughing.
"I did warn you," I managed to say between giggles.

"Oh, but you only warned my feet, not my stomach," he countered, laughing along.

We collapsed onto the sand, lying on our backs and gazing up at the clear night sky. Our chests rose and fell, finding a rhythm. I turned my head to face him, a genuine smile on my lips, curious about the thoughts behind his pained expression.

"What's on your mind?" I asked, eager to know.

"Do you believe everything happens for a reason?" Mason asked, his voice laced with a hint of sadness, his eyebrows pinching together slightly.

"I do. Why do you ask?" I replied, my smile unwavering, inviting him to share.

"Even the tough stuff, like losing people?" he asked, a slight frown tugging at his lips.

"Yes," I affirmed, my smile growing wider, noticing the creases between his brows deepening.

""I believe that when something bad happens you have three choices... you can let it define you, let it destroy you or let it strengthen you. The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering known struggle, known loss and have found their way out of the depths. Those people have an appreciation, a sensitivity and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people don't just happen... I read that somewhere" I shared. My gaze shifted back to Mason, his eyes clouded with a mixture of emotions. In that moment, his hand found mine, squeezing it tightly.

"Thank you, Quinn," he uttered, his voice husky and filled with gratitude. Confused, I shook my head, unsure of what I had done to deserve his thanks.

"For what?" I breathed, eager for his explanation.

"For giving me faith to know that there are still beautiful people left in the world," he confessed, lifting our entwined hands. Our pinkie fingers intertwined, and our thumbs touched.

"Why are you crossing our fingers like that, you weirdo?" I playfully teased, glancing down at our intertwined fingers.

"This is how we make a promise," he explained, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes.

"Alright, what promise are we making?" I asked, curiosity dancing in my eyes.

"We're promising to live life to the fullest. Cherish it, enjoy it and do what matters," he declared, his grin contagious and heartfelt.

"I promise," I declared, squeezing my pinkie against his, clutching my dog tag tightly.

"I promise," Mason echoed, his grip on my hand unyielding and determined.

As I made this promise with Mason, a surge of urgency coursed through me, stirring deep within my soul. For four years, I had tried to bury this feeling, locking it away in the recesses of my mind. Ever since "coming of age," I had felt a relentless pull to break free and truly live. Now, with Mason as my witness, I vowed to dismantle the walls I had built over those years, one by one. It was time to stop being a mere people-pleaser and start truly living.