Sawyer
Benji and I had an early morning install.
I pushed my mask up and stepped back from the finished gate.Late-morning sunlight caught on the black iron, tracing the delicate vines woven through the bars. Every weld was clean. Every curve was exactly where I wanted it. For once, there was no voice in my head telling me it was only good enough.
Benji squinted beside me with his arms crossed while he studied the gate. “Hell of a thing,” he muttered as he leaned closer to inspect the lines.
I nodded. “We did good.”
“Better than good,” Benji said without looking away. “That’s a showpiece.”
Praise from Benji was not handed out easily and usually had to be pried loose, so I didn’t brush it off. I let it sit there for a moment, warm in my chest, before we started loading the gear back into the truck and heading back to the shop.
Benji spoke, his voice slow and careful. “So,” he said while glancing over at me, “you’re still talking to my sister?”
I kept my eyes on the road. “We’re getting dinner tonight.”
Benji turned his head toward me. “Really?”
“Really,” I said while easing the truck into the next lane.
He let the information settle for a second. “Huh.”
“She told me about Jason,” I added while keeping my tone even. “Didn’t sound like she was impressed.”
“She’s not,” Benji said after a moment. “Or at least I don’t think she is. We talked a few days ago. She brought you up.”
I glanced at him before I could stop myself. “She did?”
Benji shrugged slightly. “Said you were… cool. Different. Hot.”
I laughed quietly. “Nice to be appreciated.” My grip loosened on the wheel for half a second, like my body needed a little room to hold the thought.
Benji watched me. “Look,” he said finally, “You’re one of my best friends…”
“But?” I asked, already hearing the shape of the sentence.
“If you break my sister’s heart,” Benji said while turning fully toward me, “I’m going to break your face.”
“Noted.”
“I’m serious.”
“I know. And I’m not planning on it,” I said.
Benji exhaled slowly and turned back toward the windshield. The truck rolled through a long stretch of quiet road before he spoke again, his voice softer this time.
“Addie’s always thought she had to act like she was straight… her whole life,” he said.
I didn’t rush to fill the silence. I let him take his time.
“Our parents are… a lot,” Benji continued. “You’d think they’d chill after everything with me, but they don’t. They had this idea of the kind of kids they were going to raise. I came out early. Told them I was a boy by ten. They lost it.”
I didn’t interrupt him.
“It took years,” he said. “They still mess up sometimes, but they’ve come around enough. They use the right name. The right pronouns. I’m allowed at holidays now, which is more than I had for a good while once I turned eighteen.”
God their parents are the fucking worst.
“And Addie…” Benji paused, his voice dropping lower. “She was always perfect. She had to be. We never talked about it, but I knew. She took their attention off me. Wore the dresses. Got the grades. Did the charm-school bullshit. She played the part, I couldn’t.”
The words landed low and quiet in my chest.
“And I never asked her to,” he added quickly. “But I know she did it for me.” He was quiet for a moment. “She doesn’t let many people see past the mask, but if she’s talking to you the way I think she is… don’t screw it up.”
My voice stayed even. “I won’t.”
It wasn’t a promise I made lightly.
* * *
I stayed late at the shop and finally tackled a sculpture commission I had been avoiding for weeks.
Repurposed steel twisted into abstract spirals and welded vines, something half-wild caught mid-bloom.
Projects like this couldn’t be forced. You had to listen, and this one had been loud from the start.
I marked the scorched metal with chalk, turned up the music, and lit the welder. Soon, the world narrowed to cutting, grinding, and shaping.
Iron and oil clung to my skin as sparks flashed through the dim shop. My arms ached, my neck burned, and my shirt stuck to my back, but I kept going.
It was the good kind of pain, the kind that came from making something real with your hands.
Time blurred the way it always did when the rhythm took over.
The only thing that finally pulled me out of it was the buzz of my phone against my hip.
I shut the torch off and pulled off my gloves before fishing the phone out with dirty fingers.
Addison: Hey. Client just booked me for a late meeting. I won’t be done until around 7:15. Can we push dinner?
I stared at the message for a second before replying.
Me: Of course. Want to reschedule?
Her response came almost immediately.
Addison: Not unless we have to. I still really want to see you.
My mouth tipped into a smile before I could stop it.
Me: Text me when you’re home and changed. We’ll keep it easy. Tacos. My place if you want. No rush.
There was a short pause before another message appeared.
Addison: That sounds perfect, honestly.
I read the message twice before answering.
Me: I think so too. Text me when you’re ready.
I slid the phone back into my pocket and looked at the half-finished sculpture waiting on the table.,
I picked up the torch again and worked until the light outside softened.
By six fifteen, I finally shut everything down, cleaned my station, and washed my hands until the water ran clear, scrubbing away the dust and grease from my knuckles.
My muscles started complaining the moment I stopped moving, like they had been waiting all afternoon for the chance.
* * *
Hollis met me at the bottom of the stairs when I got home, holding an entire pie.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“Soren told me about your new friend.” She smiled. “I thought you two might like some boysenberry pie.”
She winked, and I laughed. “You’re amazing. She’s actually coming over tonight.”
“Well, perfect timing, then.”
“Perfect.” I hugged her carefully around the pie. “Thank you.”
“Come tell me about her soon?”
“I will. Promise.”
I carried the pie upstairs, and set it on the counter, kicked off my boots, and went straight to the shower. The hot water loosened the ache in my shoulders, and for a few minutes, I stood there breathing while the day washed away.
Afterward, I pulled on clean jeans and a tank. I redid the braid at the crown of my head and left the rest of my hair loose, the colored ends falling wherever they wanted.
At seven thirty my phone buzzed on the kitchen counter.
Vic: You bailing on trivia night, Wilson? Nina says you’re scared of her.
I smirked while typing back.
Me: Can’t tonight. Got a date.
Vic: Ooh. Benji’s sister?
Me: Yup.
Vic: Good. Don’t overthink it. Be your charming gremlin self.
I rolled my eyes even though I was smiling.
About seven forty my phone buzzed.
Addison: Just got home. Quick shower, then I’ll be ready. Ten or fifteen minutes tops.
My body did that small pause it had started doing whenever her name showed up on my screen. I leaned against the counter for a second, reading the message again before answering.
Me: Take your time. I’m heading out now. See you soon.
I grabbed my keys and stepped into the hallway, locking the door behind me with a soft click.
I took the stairs two at a time and stepped out onto the sidewalk, rolling my shoulders once as I headed toward my bike. I wasn’t rushing, exactly. Just moving with a little more purpose than usual.
Something about Addison felt like a shift. Not dramatic, not sudden, but real enough that I could feel the ground tilting slightly beneath my feet, and I had no intention of showing up halfway.
* * *