The heat in my face was so unbearable that I laughed out loud, harder than I meant to.
I typed my name after what he’d already written so he’d at least remember what toactuallycall me. Then I added my number and handed it back.
He glanced down at the screen, then back up at me. “Megan.” He said it like he was trying it out, slow and certain. His hand pressed against his chest. “I’m Mason.”
I nodded, my laugh tumbling out a little breathless. “I just rememberedJennings.”
“Well, that’s something,” he teased, his smile easy.
After that, everything blurs. I couldn’t tell you what else we talked about. All I remember is him saying he’d text me, and that we’d figure out a day or evening to meet up. Then he turned back toward his truck, and I went the other way to my car.
He pulled out of the parking lot first, and I stayed behind, pretending to reorganize my bag in the passenger seat. I don’t even know why. Maybe because I didn’t want him to watch me drive away. Maybe because I needed one more second to breathe, to collect myself after my entire world shifted in the space of five minutes and I was still sweating through my clothes about it.
And that was the start of us.
A week later, I found myself in the kitchen with Mom, blurting out words I never thought I’d say.
“So, I have a date Wednesday night.”
She looked up from the sink, water still running, her eyebrows raised.
“Oh?”
I shrugged, pretending it wasn’t a big deal, but inside I was buzzing. Truth was, I’d never really dated. Well, okay, once…in high school. We went out for pizza. But my parents wouldn’t let him drive me, which basically killed the whole mood. We sat in a booth in front of this massive window, and right as the waitress brought our check, my parents pulled in. Both of them. Parked directly in front of us, headlights shining like spotlights. Whether they meant to do it or not, I think he felt ambushed. He never asked me out again, and at the time, I was confused. Now, at twenty-five, I get it.
“How’d you meet him? What’s his name?” Mom asked, drying her hands on a dish towel before turning fully toward me, arms loosely crossed. Suddenly, I felt seventeen again.
“Mason. He’s a first responder. He came to my class last week.”
“First responder, like EMT?” Her eyes lit hopefully.
“Cop.” I held my breath.
Her shoulders slumped. “A cop? Megan, I don’t know about that.”
“Why?”
“They’re gone a lot. It’s dangerous. Is he a city cop?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
She sighed, and it wasn’t just disappointment, it was worry. Like she wanted to forbid me but knew she couldn’t. Not anymore.
“You act like I’m gonna marry him,” I muttered.
“Well, isn’t that the idea?”
“Maybe, eventually. But we haven’t even gone out yet. You’re jumping the gun.”
“I guess,” she said, though it didn’t sound like she meant it.
“Right.” I laughed lightly and headed back to my room. It would be so much easier if I had my own place, but I don’t hate it. After community college, I got my teaching degree and landed a job teaching second grade a few months later. I’ve lookedat apartments closer to work, but that town is too expensive. Honestly, staying here just makes sense.
And I’m not completely engulfed in my parents’ lives. It’s a split-level house and I basically have an entire apartment downstairs. Full kitchen, bathroom, two bedrooms, a living room with a fireplace, a walk out to the backyard. It’s perfect for me.
Still, it wasn’t the plan. I thought I’d meet my husband in college, get married, buy a house. Instead, the closest I came to a “date” back then was the custodian holding the door while I ran back for the cardigan I left behind.
Now? Now I was pacing my bedroom with laundry scattered across my bed, staring at Mason’s texts.
