Chapter Ten Daphne （In Mason’s Body）
“ J ust act normal, and everything will be fine,” I remind Mason as Maeve walks through the front door. “I mean, not normal. Don’t act like you. Act like me .”
He whispers fast and breathlessly, “Super helpful, thanks.”
Maeve’s arms are full of shopping bags, and she kicks the door shut behind her and groans.
Her gaze flicks up, and she spots us sitting in the living room—me on the recliner and Mason on the sofa—and freezes in place, her eyebrows slamming into each other.
“What the hell? Nope . If this is some kind of shopping intervention, I’m not interested.” She walks toward the kitchen and drops all of her bags on the kitchen island. “This isn’t Confessions of a Shopaholic .”
My voice fills the room as Mason says, “Now that you mention it?—”
She scoffs as she unloads her purse, setting it next to the pile. “Rude, Daph.”
“You know what’s rude?” I stretch my arms up and behind my head, hitting that pose all guys do to flex their arms. Oh, I am going to nail this performance . I spent years listening to these two bicker with one another. “The hospitality of this Airbnb. By the way, I’m crashing here for the night.”
She grabs a doughnut and joins us in the living room, sitting down next to Mason. “So nice of you to ask.”
“I asked Daphne,” I mutter.
Maeve’s head whips toward Mason in shock. “And you said yes?”
Come on, Mason. Don’t mess this up.
He flips his long red hair back like a dramatic movie moment, and I have to stop myself from laughing. “He showed up with his bag, all pathetic, complaining how he had nowhere else to go while they get their water fixed or whatever. Honestly, I stopped listening after a while. It was just sad.”
Okay, that was a bit too good of a performance. I’m even offended at his tone. But I remind myself that I asked for this.
I laugh internally at his impression of me, one that he sold so well.
“And you guys are sitting in the same room because …” She drags the word out. “What’s going on? This is weird .”
Mason stands up from the sofa and storms off toward the stairs, and I make a mental note that there may be a plus side to this situation that I can use later. But I push it to the back of my mind for now.
He calls back down the stairs, “I was just babysitting him to make sure he didn’t destroy the house. But you’re on duty now.”
What? Don’t leave me alone!
Silence fills the room, and crickets chirp outside, counting the seconds that pass as my nerves begin to eat me alive.
She turns to me, squinting. “What’s really going on?”
“W-what do you mean?” I stutter.
“I mean, what are you doing here ? You could have stayed at one of your teammate’s places.
But you chose here. Why?” A light bulb goes off in her eyes.
“Oh my God, this is some kind of ploy, isn’t it?
You’re doing this to get close to Daphne!
What did I tell you about pulling shit like this?
Knock it off, Mason, or I swear to God.”
What do you mean, shit like this ? Has he wanted to try something before?
Focus.
I sit up and look her in the eyes, needing to calm her worry. “Trust me, I’m not here to make anyone uncomfortable. I just need a place to stay for the night. I’ll keep to myself, and I’ll sleep on the couch. Come on, Maeve. It’s just me.”
Me! Daphne! I’m in here!
She watches me carefully, deciding whether or not she’s going to believe me. “One night. Then you have to go. I don’t want you ruining Daph’s and my safe space, okay?”
A laugh slips past my lips. In a way, does this body count if it’s being occupied by a girl? Oh, that is way too confusing to start to dissect.
“I’m serious, Mason.” She glares at me.
“I pinkie promise.” I hold my pinkie up, and my heart sinks. Shit, I don’t know if they ever do this or if that’s just her and me. “I mean, I promise, whatever.”
Curious. Bewildered. Confused. All words to describe her face right now as she looks at me. I was worried about Mason pulling this off, and here I am, messing up on the first test.
“How about I cook dinner tonight? As a thank-you for letting me crash. I promise I’ll be on my best behavior.” I salute her, and she smiles softly.
“That would be great actually.” Her voice softens, only loud enough for me to hear. “I love Daphne, but she cooks the same meals every week, and while they’re good, I just crave something new. So, yes, please.”
My metaphorical jaw is on the floor. “And did you tell her that information? You’d be amazed how far a little communication could go.”
She scoffs, stands up, and starts heading toward the stairs. “Coming from you, Mr. Break Her Heart Because He Couldn’t Open His Damn Mouth.”
“Hey!” I scold her, and she bursts out laughing.
The second she’s out of sight, I take the biggest exhale. Thank God that’s over. But now I have to figure out what to make for dinner because, apparently, what I had planned is not going to get past her.
Look, it’s not my fault. When I find food that I like and it tastes good and doesn’t hurt me, I eat it. Constantly. Repeatedly. Until I’m sick of it and I find a new recipe. I don’t know if that’s a celiac thing or just a Daphne thing. Maybe a bit of both.
“Mason, that was delicious. Thank youuuu,” Maeve sings as she rubs her stomach, walking toward the stairs to get ready for her FaceTime date with Jackson.
“You’re welcome.” I glance humorously over to Mason. “Would you say it’s the best meal I’ve ever made you?”
She gives me a thumbs-up. “Pretty close. It was really good!”
I point my finger at Mason and silently laugh at him.
He rolls his eyes and strolls into the kitchen. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. It was all right.”
“Oh, thank you for such a gushing review.” I scoff. “I was actually pretty impressed with myself, thank you very much. That was the first time I’ve ever made homemade Alfredo.”
I follow him into the kitchen with the rest of the dishes and start packing up leftovers as he mumbles, “Not bad for your first attempt.”
“Wow, that was almost a compliment.” I smirk, looking down at him.
Mason turns to me and asks genuinely, “Now will you please get out of the kitchen so I can do the dishes?”
“I can help,” I offer. “It is my house after all.”
He clicks his tongue. “Tsk. Nope, not tonight. Is your name Daphne Summers?”
“Yes.”
“Not right now it’s not. Your name is Mason Holt, remember?” He turns back to the sink, opens the empty dishwasher, and pushes his sleeves up.
I’m way too stubborn for this. Especially when we still aren’t on good terms. Speaking terms, yes, given the situation. But only because of that.
He doesn’t get to do some nice gestures to earn my kindness. It’s not going to work.
“I’m doing it, and you can’t tell me otherwise. Now get out of my kitchen.” I lift my hand to flick my hair back and remember that there is none there to move off my shoulder.
He sighs. “Must you always be difficult, Sunset? Just let me do this.”
“No, I don’t think so.” I hold my ground.
“Daph! Is everything okay down there?” Maeve shouts down from the top of the stairs. “Mason.” She grunts his name with warning.
Mason and I look at each other, wide-eyed and nervous.
I wave my hands quickly in the air and mouth the words, Say something .
“W-we’re just fine! Thank you! Just cleaning up the kitchen.” He rushes through his words, looking over at the stairs.
“Okaaaay,” she sings, and a second later, we hear her door click shut.
Mason turns back to me and looks down out of habit before realizing my eyes are all the way up here. “Anyway, why won’t you let me clean?”
“Is my plea not enough of a reason?” I retort.
He crosses his arms and looks down at his boobs, now pressed up tightly against his chest. “I don’t know how you get used to these things. They keep getting in the way.”
“Really? That is nothing compared to the things I have to put up with right now.” I scoff, glancing down at my pants. “I mean, going to the bathroom is horrifying for me. I don’t want to eat or drink anything until this is all over.”
He chuckles with a smirk. “Fair point. How’s he doing? I miss him.” He sighs. “Oh, and I was going to the bathroom earlier, and I somehow blacked out, doomscrolling on socials. Sitting down when peeing is a trap.”
I stare at him, dumbfounded. I recall that I had to squat over the toilet and pee earlier because there was no way I was holding it to do so.
“Are you trying to distract me to get me off topic from the dishes?” I gasp, realizing far later than I would’ve preferred.
He smiles. “Did it work?”
“No.” I huff. “But I’m done arguing about this. Do the dishes for all I care. Enjoy yourself.”
I storm off without a word, feeling a tsunami of emotions flood me all at once, as if my brain is deciding at this moment to process everything that’s happened so far today.
I’m exhausted and … scared.
What happens if we wake up tomorrow and we haven’t switched back? What if we’re stuck like this forever? I can’t even think about that as a realistic possibility. I can’t think about my current problem as realistic either because this should be impossible.
But here we are. Stuck.
I need some air. My chest is getting tight, and the last thing I want right now is a panic attack to make everything worse, especially in front of Mason.
Stepping into the perfect late summer air, I force myself to take a few timed breaths to calm myself down as I sit on the porch swing, rocking myself back and forth.
Today has been so hectic. I feel like all of my guards crashed down at once when we scrambled to grasp what was happening to us. But I can’t keep him blocked out when I need him right now.
Ugh, why is this happening to us? It feels like some kind of cosmic punishment. For what? No clue.
Staring out at the calm lake, I’m taken aback for a second by its beauty. The starry sky twinkling above, the moon shining bright. Loons sleep on the water, still and peaceful, the opposite of my racing thoughts.
I hear the back door open to my right.
“Hey, mind if I join you?”
Hearing my own voice catches me off guard, but I don’t think it’s something anyone would ever get used to.
I nod and scoot over on the bench seat, making room for him. He walks over and sits down, his legs dangling, hovering above the ground, and I can’t help but laugh.
But the normal laugh morphs into something uncontrollable. The kind of laugh that only comes out from intense stress, where all you can do is chuckle maniacally.
Mason looks at me, worried, not interrupting me until the laughter turns into a sigh, and I tip my head back, looking at the sky.
“You know how you had a favor to ask of me? I have one I need to ask you.”
I sit up. “What is it?”
He rubs the back of his neck. “Hopefully, everything will go back to normal in the morning, and we won’t have to worry about it. But on the off chance it doesn’t, I need you to cover for me.”
Nerves start to eat me alive. “Doing what?”
“I’m supposed to scrimmage with the guys on Thursday at three in the afternoon.”
In the blink of an eye, I debate whether to answer with the honest fear racing through me or the smart-ass comment I always have locked and loaded when it comes to him.
I choose the latter. “Oh, you just need me to play for you? Easy .”
He chuckles and bites down on his bottom lip, and even though I’m looking at my face, I can imagine what it would look like in his own body. “Easy, huh?”
I shrug. “Yeah. Unless you want me to call and pretend to be sick?”
Hope blooms in my chest that he might do just that so as not to risk his reputation as a star goalie. But my hope is shortly crushed.
“Oh, no. If you think it’s easy, then by all means, you’ve got this,” he challenges me.
Shit.
“Orrrr I could purposely embarrass you and ruin your career.” I cock my head to the side with a cruel smile.
He squints at me. “You wouldn’t dare .”
Stretching my arms over my head, I nonchalantly say, “You want to bet? You have no idea what I would or wouldn’t do, Mason. You know a version of me that doesn’t exist anymore.”
The mention of the reality waiting for us after we resolve this slams into me like a freight train.
He sinks into the seat, his eyes saddening. “I’m sorry.”
“Just forget about it for right now.” Ugh, this conversation got heavy quick, and I came out here to escape it. “Let’s just hope we switch back and we won’t have to worry about your scrimmage. And if we don’t, then … we’ll go from there.”
“Thank you,” he mutters softly and turns to look out at the lake. “Look.”
His face lights up, and I follow his gaze and pointer finger to the small flashes of yellow light illuminating the air. God, I haven’t seen them since I was a kid. Fireflies .
A memory flashes in my mind, back when we were thirteen and fifteen, a moment like this, only Mason and I were happily together and not sitting side by side, but miles apart. We could still be lovingly together...or rather we could’ve been.
How can I forgive him for what he did? And how could I trust that he would never do it again?
“You see it, Daph?” Mason asked me, pulling me tighter into his side.
“Wait, where?” I asked, desperately searching for whatever he saw.
Lifting his arm, he wrapped it around my shoulders and gently cupped my cheek, guiding my head. “Right … there.”
A flash of yellow light appeared, glowing midair, and I gasped. “A firefly!”
He chuckled and watched me in awe. “First one of the season.”
I watched the darkness intently, waiting for it to glow again, and a moment later, I saw it a few feet away.
We sat here, on the Holts’ back porch, for hours, giggling, talking, and secretly falling in love.