“Seriously? You’re not going to tell me? What happened to us telling each other everything?”
“That was your idea, not mine.” He laughed. “I never agreed to be your girlfriend.”
“Yeah, well, maybe that’s what you need. I can’t help you if you keep secrets from me.”
“Trust me, Breeze. You can’t help me either way.”
Mason looked into his glass, grimacing. He was a tough nut to crack. One moment we could be talking and laughing and the next he looked like he wanted to shoot himself.
“Hey,” I side-hugged him. “Forget I asked. Let’s just have fun tonight.”
He nodded, still not meeting my eye. No matter how old he got or how confidently he portrayed himself, when it came right down to it, Mason was an insecure little boy running from the demons of his youth. He craved affection like everyone else, but sometimes I wondered if he had the capacity to fully embrace it.
That wasn’t my issue with love at all. I was ready and willing to fall, but I just couldn’t find a guy to do it with. And unlike other ‘gay and girl’ best friend pairings, Mason and I had no contingency plan. We had no baby pact at thirty or desperation marriage promise. We either found love separately, or we remained best friends who met at bars to drink to each other’s failures.
“My mom wants me to go home for the family reunion, but Brandon will be there… with his baby and Jenna.”
Mason downed another shot.
“Are you drinking to my pain?” I asked.
“If we have to have another Brandon discussion, I need to get drunk.” He was joking… sort of. Mason had lived through my breakup and all the misery that came with it.
“It’s not just Brandon, it’s all men in general. I mean, I’m a fairly decent looking girl...” I waited for his affirmation, and when he said nothing, I kicked him under the table. “That’s your cue, Dude.”
“Yes, Breeze, you’re gorgeous. You’ve got great hair, love the pink highlights, by the way.”
“You like?” I fluffed my fingers through my dyed silver blonde locks, complete with subtle pastel pink highlights. “I was going for crazy fun.”
“Yeah, well congrats, you’ve got the crazy part down pat but the fun?” He looked around the bar. “You need to work on that.”
“Stop, be serious.”
“I am. With that great hair and your killer little bod—mmm mmm— if I wasn’t gay, I’d be all up in your shit.”
“That’s it.” I clapped my amusement. “Oh my god, Mason, you have no idea how long I’ve waited for you to talk to me like that!”
He met me halfway for a high five. “And it only took eighteen years.”
“I know, right? Anyway, as I was saying, I’m a decent looking girl, with a winning personality, so why can’t I find a civilized guy who still has all his teeth?”
Mason took another shot.
“Stop drinking to my pain,” I repeated, giggling.
“Hey, you complain, I drink,” he said, shrugging. “Don’t blame me. I don’t make the rules.”
“Yes, Mason. Yes, you do! You made the game up, jerk.”
He laughed so I tapped his leg with my boot.
“Hey, beyotch. You kick me again, I’m going to dump your ass in an old folks’ home and find me some stud to finish out the night with.”
“At a country western bar? Good luck with that, my friend.” He winced, knowing I spoke the truth. “Besides, what would Curtis think?”
An exaggerated eye roll came from Mason. “Curtis pees sitting down.”
“Yes, but he’s always there for you.”
