50. Mason
Mason
By the sixth lap, my lungs are burning like hell. The pain feels good, though. I need something to distract my brain right now—anything, really. And pushing my body to its limits has always been second best to a bottle of liquor.
The track is still damp from last night’s rain as my sneakers slap against the rubber in a perfect rhythm.
If I stop moving, my head gets too loud.
So I push, and I keep pushing.
Erik is a few strides ahead, and Bash hangs right beside me.
“Pick it up, boys,” Erik calls over his shoulder. “Mase, I thought you said you didn’t lose any of that talent of yours when you got hurt.”
“Eat my shit, Slade!” I yell, pushing even harder.
My shoulder still throbs daily, and my body feels weaker lately, but I’m getting good at pretending I’m fully back to normal.
We finish the lap and slow near the bleachers. My chest heaves as I bend forward, hands on my knees, sweat dripping off my forehead onto the track.
“I feel like I’m sweating all the remaining Hennessy in my system out through my pores,” I rasp. “I can actually smell liquor. Am I going crazy?”
Erik laughs, wiping the sweat from his face with his shirt.
Bash sits down on the bleachers, grabbing his water from our pile of things. “I think you’re an addict.”
“Funny,” I deadpan. “Takes one to know one.”
Bash gives me a mocking face. “That’s why I said it, you big baby.”
Erik just laughs, and even though I don’t respond, Bash continues to watch me—studying me.
I’ve been checking in with him, and he knows I’m still sober, have been for months. But what he doesn’t know, and what nobody knows…is that my restraint has been barely hanging on.
Parent weekend starts tomorrow, and my dad made sure to clear his schedule for it.
I don’t understand why, seeing as he never takes a real interest in me.
I assume it’s just another way for him to check in on his investment and maybe smooth-talk anyone who will listen to him.
I also think he loves coming to these things because he wants to relive his glory days in some creepy way—the years that he peaked in life.
I don’t really care what his reasons are. I just wish he would stay home. I don’t need him messing up the progress I’ve made since being back.
Everything in me wants to prepare for the blows I’ll take while he’s here.
It would all be so much easier to handle him while he’s around if I didn’t have to fight sobriety at the same time.
If I were wasted, I wouldn’t care so much.
I wouldn’t care that he’s coming to taint the one safe space I have.
This place is the only place that’s remotely mine. Sure, he controls parts of it, but who I am here doesn’t have to live up to all the expectations—only on paper. That’s the only thing that matters to him. Every other part of my life here, I’m free to live how I want.
“What’s going on in that barely working brain of yours?” Bash asks, partly teasing, but there’s still this caring behind his words.
I shrug, shaking off the need that’s been twisting in the pit of my stomach. “I don’t know. Nothing, I guess.”
Bash raises a brow.
I shake my head, giving in, knowing these guys are the only ones I can open up and talk to about all of this.
“What was your, like…thing?” I ask.
“Thing?” he repeats, confused.
“Yeah, like what was the thing that kept you from drinking when you got…triggered?”
He hesitates, searching my face like he can figure out what’s really bothering me.
“Parents weekend,” I tell him, giving him what I know he’s looking for.
He nods, understanding.
“Well, you probably won’t like my answer…”
“Try me.”
“Um…those were just the days I ended up praying harder than ever. It was more like begging, but it usually worked.”
I stare at him.
“…So what? I just take some Christianity pill, and then all my problems disappear?”
“No,” Bash says simply. “The problems don’t go away. You just finally have something to turn to that doesn’t destroy you. It’s not about making the bad not exist anymore. It’s about redirecting where that anger and hurt and struggles go.”
The words land somewhere deeper than I want them to. And it’s annoying, really. Religion seems like such a cop-out, like this band-aid people use to make themselves feel better when they can’t change reality.
Don’t get me wrong, I respect Bash and Erik. I would never talk shit about their beliefs, and I’m glad it works for them. I just think it’s a little far-fetched. And hell, the most religious people always turn out to be the most crooked, so what does that tell you…?
I think God is probably real. Has to be on some level, right?
I don’t know. I don’t really know enough about any of it.
My mom tried to take me to church growing up, but my dad always hated the idea.
He always told her it was a sham, and she was wasting her time going somewhere that only existed to take money from people dumb enough to believe the shit they were spitting.
Religion just makes me think about death a lot, how maybe this really is it, this is all there is. It’s kinda depressing to think about, honestly. To think we go through all this just to what…not wake up one day? Never exist again?
Fuck. That thought can send me into a spiral quickly.
I shake it off, pulling my attention back to the guys. “I’m glad that worked for you, really. I guess I was just looking for something more…doable…for me at least.”
Bash shrugs. “I tried everything you could think of on my hardest days…and I still ended up in a liquor store parking lot way too many times to count.”
“I guess I’ll put it on my to-do list,” I say sarcastically.
“You know,” Erik pipes in. “Maybe you could come check out Breakaway with us next Tuesday.”
“Break-a-what?”
Erik rolls his eyes, sitting down and leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.
“Breakaway,” he repeats. “It’s this worship night they do with all the students on campus.”
“I, um…sounds cool, but…I have football,” I lie.
Erik smirks. “Funny, cause they do it at the stadium. So try again. And maybe use a better lie this time.”
I glare at him. “Bite me.”
He just raises his hands. “Hey, I’m just saying, if you happen to finish up your imaginary football practice early, maybe come check it out with us, yeah?
It’s really just a chill night. No having to bear your soul or talk to anyone.
Honestly, so many people come, no one would even know you’re there. ”
“Yeah, I’ll think about it,” I lie again.
“I mean, Lydia, Lani, and Simone are gonna come with us, too. It could be fun.”
My head snaps toward him.
“She is?”
Both of them grin instantly.
Oh, hell. I don’t know why I make myself so obvious around them. I don’t need their shit, not when it comes to her.
“Who is…she?” Bash asks, like he doesn’t already know, like every single one of us standing here isn’t a full-on simp for one of those girls.
“Maybe I was talking about Lydia,” I say, shrugging, just trying to rile him up.
Bash swipes his tongue across the inside of his mouth, looking annoyed now. “Funny…try again.”
“Okay, you got me…I was asking about Lani.”
Erik goes still, slowly raising his eyes to me. The glare is so deadly, it almost scares me…yet I can’t help the satisfied grin that appears on my face.
“Not happening. Never happening. Don’t even think about it happening. Got it?”
“That’s a lot of confidence for someone she treats like a disease she’s afraid of catching.”
He cocks his head at me. “That’s for show. Don’t let her fool you.”
“Might wanna tell Tank that,” I say, not being able to stop myself from poking the bear. “I’ve seen him texting her quite a lot lately.”
His jaw flexes, but he tries to keep his cool. “I didn’t know he wanted to end up back in the hospital so soon.”
I raise my brows. “Saint Erik has a violent side I see. I like it.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time I put someone in the hospital over that girl. Don’t think I won’t do it again.”
“Oh shit,” I murmur.
“I need that story,” Bash says, standing up and leaning against the bleachers.
Erik looks off in the distance, trying to calm himself.
I feel a little bad, but I couldn’t help it. Riling up the bad boy inside Erik is one of my favorite things to do.
He turns back and waves a hand at me. “How about we get back to the girl you were really asking about?”
I try to give them a look of indifference. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yeah, I can smell the bull from over here,” Erik says, smiling, “and it stinks, Mase.”
“Whatever. I’m not talking about her to y’all.”
Bash chuckles. “Hey, don’t get your panties in a bunch. We’re rooting for you, seriously.”
“Shut up.”
Erik stands, grabbing his bag and phone. “In the wise words of Taylor Swift—my advice is to ruin the friendship.”
I blink at him.
“Did you just…quote a Swift song? What the hell do you know about Taylor Swift?” I look around, confused. “What universe am I living in?”
Erik shrugs. “Lani loves Taylor Swift.”
Bash shakes his head slowly, smiling. “Wow. I’m actually sad she hates your guts. You love her so much. It’s adorable.”
I glance at my watch.
Simone’s class ends in eight minutes.
Shit.
“I’ve…gotta be somewhere,” I say, jogging backwards already. “I’ll think about coming to that kumbayah thing, though.”
“Breakaway,” Bash calls out.
I wave him off.
“Same thing!”
Thankfully, I make it over to her building right before they let out.
I’m leaning against the wall, scrolling on my phone, when I see her walking.
She’s literally glowing in the sunlight. She’s truly the kind of beautiful that would stand out in any-sized crowd. And who she is on the inside makes her a thousand times more beautiful to me.
“Are you stalking me?” she asks as she reaches me.
“Obviously.”
She smiles and blushes.
There it is. My favorite thing to see.
“Come on,” I say. “I’m taking you somewhere.”
“Where?”
“Off campus.”
She cocks her head a little at me. “How do you know I’m done for the day?”
I point at myself. “Stalker, remember? I know your schedule.”
She squints her eyes at me but still smiles. “Little creepy…but okay.”
* * *