AUGUST 13, 2024

Bethany

I ring the doorbell and wait, my heels tapping softly against the flagstone underfoot. A familiar flutter rises in my chest as I hear the footsteps approach from inside. I rub my hands together, trying to settle my nerves. Suddenly, the door swings open, and Mason stands there in nothing but his Hanes. Somehow, he looks even more attractive with that messy hair sticking out at odd angles and the right amount of stubble on his chest. The view is almost too perfect for the morning. His sleepy eyes sweep over me before darting toward the driveway.

“Everything okay?” he asks, his voice low and rough, still heavy with slumber.

“My car’s acting up; the brakes are shot,” I say casually. “A friend gave me a lift here on her way to work, but it’s too early to head to the office.”

He nods and steps aside to let me in. “I can drop you off on my way,” he offers, shutting the door behind me.

“That’d be great,” I say as I slip off my floral cocoon coat. “Have you eaten?” I ask.

He playfully taps my head. “Really? It’s barely seven, and you just woke me up.”

“What were you planning on having?”

“I haven’t even thought about it,’ he pauses, thinking. ‘Hmm… cereal, maybe toast. Something quick.”

I give him a playful push on the back with both hands, nudging him toward the stairs. “Go get ready, I’ll whip us up something.” He obeys like a good kid, and I watch him climb the stairs. He takes a few steps, then looks back with a wince. That’s when I realize I’ve been staring. Heat rushes to my face, and I quickly turn and move toward the living room.

In the living room, I drop my bag on the couch and text Natalie to let her know I’m at her house – it’s better she hears it from me than from Mason. A few seconds later, I hear Mason’s phone ringing upstairs. I make my way to the stairs and stop at the landing when I catch the sound of his voice through the cracked bedroom door. “Sorry, I must have slept through all those calls,” he says. After a short pause, he adds, “I’ll head over after a bath and some breakfast. Bethany’s here. Her car’s giving her trouble again. I’ll bring her with me.” I head back downstairs, and not long after, I hear him calling, "Bethany... Beth…”

Butterflies stir in my stomach. He doesn’t call me Beth often, but I like it when he does. When I was younger, I hated the nickname and would make everyone call me Bethany. Funny how that changed over time. These days, I prefer Beth, but no one really uses it anymore. The only one who still does is Mason, and somehow, it feels special – like a quiet reminder that we’re close.

I walk over and stand beneath the stairs, looking up at him. “What?”

“Lauren had a baby,” he says, gripping the railings and leaning in. “Let’s be quick. We should stop by the hospital to see if she needs any help. She’s alone.”

“Okay,” I reply, as a message from Natalie pops up on my phone. I glance between the screen and Mason. “Oh, I got a text from Natalie. She’s heading there too.”

“Alright, quick,” he says with a whistle. As he goes back, I head to the kitchen.

The kitchen feels too quiet, almost unnaturally still. It always does. Her house is spotless, neat to the point of perfection. More like a showroom than a home. It lacks warmth, like no one truly lives here. I’ve never been a fan of sleek, modern spaces that feel more like executive suites than actual homes. I prefer places with character, something real and lived in. But that isn’t Natalie’s style.

I move lightly through her perfectly curated home, careful not to mess up anything. If I disturb anything, I know I will get an earful from Natalie, and I cannot stand that. Over time, I have learned to blend in and stay out of sight. Still, she always finds something to pick at. I am glad I no longer live with her. Poor Mason, he is the one stuck now. Living with her must be exhausting. How does he even deal with her? Maybe her looks make it a bit easier. Or maybe it helps that she is barely ever home. Who knows?

I grab a few eggs from the fridge, crack them into a bowl, and start whisking, humming softly. The shower turning on upstairs breaks the quiet, and the image of Mason under the water pops into my head. At first, I push the thought aside, but then I let my imagination explore it. A faint, guilty smile tugs at the corners of my mouth as my mind wanders into a tantalizing fantasy.