“My parents are rich,” I tell him. “I’m going to college and studying to be a nurse.”
“On your parents’ dime?” he asks.
“I don’t think that’s relevant to—” I start.
He puts his hands up again, saying, “Another joke.” He says, “I’m sorry, this is bringing out the comedian in me.”
“It’s not that big a deal,” I tell him. “They’re not in my life that much anymore.”
“It wouldn’t be a problem if they were,” he says. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m done with the walls and all that.”
I’m not used to this kind of forthrightness. I almost don’t know what to say.
“Thank you,” I tell him. “I’m glad it wasn’t the other thing.”
“Oh hell no,” he says. “You’re way too high on the sexability scale to break up with like that.”
I half-scoff, half laugh. “Charming,” I smirk.
“You wanna go out and do something?” he asks. “Or, if you want, we can stay in. I don’t think we have to worry about getting interrupted.”
“Let’s stay in,” I tell him.
“Okay,” he says. “I’ll make us some dinner.”
“Hey, Mason?” I say.
“Yeah?” he answers.
“I’m in, too,” I tell him. “Should we make this an official thing?”
“That’s kind of what I was hoping for,” he says.
We’re still different and some elements of his past and present continue to make me a little nervous about what may be to come, but I feel better having talked to him. Whatever that means.
What it means for the two of us right now is that we’re going to have dinner together and we’re going to talk and we’re going to stop worrying about all the whys and why nots.
That sounds pretty good to me.
Chapter Nine
Spoons
Mason
The first night of the championship and I don’t know where my newly-official girlfriend is, apart from the fact that she’s not here.
This isn’t her scene, and I get that. I really do. Still, I’d kind of hoped the tournament aspect might catch her interest.
No time to think about that, though, as it looks like my fight’s about to start.
The two guys in the ring are superheavyweights. They’re actually the only two in that weight class who I’ve ever seen show up.
The one with his hair up in a man bun is local and, at about three hundred pounds, I think he first came here in hopes he could stay the only super in the group and never have to actually jump in the ring.
A few months later, the one with the bald head and the Dick Cheney look of contempt showed up. He’s from out of town and he’s pretty solid at his game.
Man bun doesn’t stand a chance.