Page 156 of Ride With Me

“Far away from you, before I end up saying something that I can’t take back,” I snarl, my fists clenched at my sides. We don’t argue a lot, but when we do, it can get nasty. Nothing physical, but after spending ten years together, you know the right words to cut each other pretty deep.

Leo's eyes narrow, his jaw clenched in anger. "We’re in the middle of nowhere, Mason," he growls.

“I’ll figure it out. Happy anniversary,babe," I spit at him, my eyes blazing with fury.

I storm away from the car, my feet pounding against the tarmac in a reckless, furious rhythm. The sun beats down on my skin like a wicked force, making every step harder than it needs to be. My sweat-drenched clothes cling to my body like a wet blanket, and I can feel my skin burning beneath the glare.

I'm not even sure where I'm going – anywhere away from him will do, but as I trudge through the blistering heat, I can feel my body beginning to shut down. My vision starts to blur and my head spins with dizziness.

After a while, I stumble to a stop beneath a scorching oak tree, my breath coming in ragged gasps. The leaves above me seem to writhe and twist in agony, as if they too are suffering from the heatwave's cruel grasp.

And yet...I'm not just mad at him. I'm mad at myself for letting this go on for so long. We’ve been happy for ten long years, or happy enough. But I’m getting tired of being rejected. Leo is the man I want to spend my forever with, but can I really go the rest of my life feeling this way?

I don’t think I can continue walking while the sun is still up, I don’t physically have the strength to keep going. Maybe I should wait until night time, but on the other hand, waiting until nightfall might just be the plot to a horror film come true - you know, the one where I'm forced to flee from a murderous machete-wielder through a dark forest while trying not to trip onroots or scream too loudly and give away my position. Yeah, no thanks.

Do I just go back to Leo? How long have I been gone? I can’t imagine the car has been fixed yet? So maybe I should just go back to him with my tail tucked between my legs.

No, that would make me look weak. Why should I be the one who fixes this? I’m always the one who apologises first, the one to get us back on track after an argument and I’m not doing it this time.

If Leo wants to find me, he can either walk through the blistering sun, get sunburned, and risk heat stroke - or I can just die here alone and spare him the trouble.

CHAPTER 2

LEO

I watchas Mason strides away from me with an air of defiance, his head held high and his backpack bouncing against his broad shoulders, I can't help but seethe with frustration. With him gone, the silence is oppressive, punctuated only by the hum of nearby wildlife. We're isolated out here, cut off from the rest of the world by the vast expanse of nothingness surrounding us. He knows there’s nowhere to go, but still he’s spitting his dummy out and storming away from me like a baby.

I know Mason is expecting me to drop everything and chase after him, to try to salvage what's left of our tattered relationship. But the truth is, I'm exhausted from the constant rollercoaster of his emotions. He's always like this - whenever things don't go his way, he storms off, leaving me to pick up the pieces. His tantrums are a familiar refrain, a predictable pattern that I've grown tired of trying to navigate.

Our relationship has been rocky for years. No matter what I do, I can't seem to find the magic formula to make Mason happy. It's as if I'm stuck in a never-ending cycle of disappointment, no matter how hard I try. I know he blames me for the lack of sex in our relationship, and it's painful to see the hurt in his eyes when I turn him down again. But the truth is, my job has become sostressful, that it sucks the life out of me, leaving me drained and washed-out at the end of every day. The last thing I need is to have someone clinging to me, suffocating me with their need for a quick shag.

It's not that I'm averse to intimacy, but the truth is, I feel like Mason has reduced our relationship to a shallow transaction. He wants me to be his piggybank and his plaything, always throwing cash at him and expecting me to be ready to fulfil his desires on demand. Ten years of being together has worn down the romance, and what's left is a dull routine of obligation and duty. Our relationship has lost its spark, its sense of adventure and excitement. I miss the carefree days when we were just friends, before the romance turned into a chore.

In the early days, our relationship was built on shared dreams and a sense of adventure. I was the one who encouraged Mason to leave his dull desk job and pursue his passion for art, convinced that his creativity would flourish without the suffocating constraints of a 9-to-5 routine. At first, he was hesitant, worried about me shouldering the financial burden alone, but I could see the spark in his eyes dimming with each passing day. He was suffocating under the weight of regularity, and I couldn't bear the thought of losing the vibrant, artistic soul I had fallen in love with.

For a while, our arrangement worked, and I'd catch glimpses of the spark that had initially drawn me to Mason when we were teens. I would walk into our flat, he'd greet me with a radiant smile, his eyes glowing with creativity, and he’d proudly showcase the vibrant paintings that covered our walls. The air would be thick with the scent of paint fumes and his tools would be scattered around the room.

I've been working 16-hour days, 6 days a week, and it's taken a toll on our relationship. I feel like we're not connecting as much as we used to, and I miss the little moments we sharedbefore. Despite knowing Mason loves me deeply, I can see the distance growing between us, and it hurts me. I wish Mason could understand the toll my job is taking on me and our relationship.

Honestly, I know I need to put in the effort to reignite the passion with Mason, but whenever I try to get into the mood, I start feeling anxious and cheapened. It's like my body is on autopilot, and I'm just going through the motions. Mason would never force me to do something I don't want, but even though he says he understands where I'm coming from, I don't think he truly gets it. When I try to talk to him about how I'm feeling, he just tells me that I need to relax.

I wanted Mason to prove to me that he doesn’t just crave luxury holidays, that he craves quality time with him. So, instead of sending us away to some exotic destination for our anniversary, I suggested we stay in the UK and spend a weekend camping together. I wanted proof that Mason values our relationship over material possessions and expensive getaways. But when I presented my idea to him, he moaned and whined, and it was clear that his heart wasn't in it for the right reasons.

I’m facing the daunting realisation that I might be losing the one person who truly understands me. We used to connect on so many levels, but lately, it feels like we're just going through the motions. I've realised that we have fundamentally different ideas about what constitutes a healthy relationship - he thinks it's all about grand gestures and romantic getaways, while I believe it's about genuine communication and emotional intimacy. When we fight about these things, he says I'm being unreasonable and he's just trying to show his love in his own way. But the more we argue, the more I feel like we're drifting apart. And now, I'm left wondering if there's any way to bridge the gap between us.

I decide to distract myself by trying to fix the engine. The smell of burnt rubber and oil greets me, a pungent reminder ofall the things that need attention. I lift the hood, and a wave of heat hits me, making my skin prickle. The steam hissing from the engine is like a physical blow, forcing me to fan it away with my hands.

I think of myself as a self-proclaimed car ignorance expert, with a total lack of mechanical smarts. I'm a fully grown man, but my uselessness is palpable as I fumble with the knobs and wires. As I twist one particularly stubborn piece of metal, the engine sputters and coughs, then dies with a defeated wheeze. I let out a string of curses as I stare at the mess I've made, my anger and frustration simmering like a pot about to boil over. I slice my finger open on a sharp edge as I try to yank out the broken part, and instinctively stick it in my mouth to staunch the bleeding.

I slam the hood shut, the metal echoing through the air. The heat is suffocating, and I'm starting to feel like I'm trapped in a never-ending nightmare. I've had enough of this. I need to find Mason, so we can just go back home. I stalk off towards the distant trees, I can't shake the thought that Mason might be wandering around somewhere, desperate for a break from the blistering sun. The thought sends a surge of worry through me, and I quicken my pace, anxious to find him before he collapses from heatstroke.

I trudge down the country road, sweat drips down my face like rain, stinging my eyes and making me squint against the blinding sunlight that reflects off the tarmac. The minutes tick as I scan the roads and the gaps in the trees for any sign of him, my anxiety growing with each passing second. I can only assume Mason hasn't gotten far – his fair skin would already be starting to look like it's been cooked in a slow oven, and I know he'll be desperate for shade by now. My mind conjures up images of him stumbling along the verge, his eyes squinting against the bright light, his pale hair plastered to his forehead with sweat.

I quicken my pace, and I can feel the blood pumping beneath the surface of my skin, feeling like it's been set aflame. I'm starting to regret not bringing water or a hat, but all I can think about is finding Mason. Just as I'm about to collapse beneath the shady branches of a tall oak, the air thick with the sweet scent of blooming wildflowers and mud, I catch a faint moaning noise. The sound sends a shiver down my spine as I push aside the branches and hurry towards it, my heart pounding in my chest like a drumbeat. The world around me blurs into a haze of heat and dust as I strain my ears to pinpoint the source of the noise.

“Mason?” my voice echoes off the trees as I call out for him. I'm taken aback when I see him lying naked in a tangled mess of decaying leaves and twigs, his t-shirt tied around his forehead like a bandana. A mixture of amusement and concern washes over me as I take in the absurdity of the situation. His usually pale skin slightly pink from the heat and his chest rises and falls with laboured breaths. Despite his dreadful appearance, something about his predicament strikes me as ridiculous – the image of him, tangled in leaves like a statue, is almost comical. I try to suppress my laughter, but a snort escapes my lips as I rush to help him.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I ask, dropping to my knees beside him. I reach out and touch the back of my hand against his chest, and it sticks to his skin like glue. The sensation is unpleasantly familiar – as if I'm touching warm, sticky wax.

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