Page 7 of Gap Control

Mason stood there in a Forge hoodie and jeans, damp hair curling at the ends, like he'd just come from a shower or a storm. He wasn't smiling, but he wasn't scowling either.

He looked tired like someone who'd spent too many hours staring at his phone screen.

"Hey." I offered a weak grin.

"Can I come in?"

I nodded and stepped back, holding the door open.

He walked in without hesitation.

"I saw it," he said, not sitting. He stood in the middle of my living room, phone in hand like a prop.

"Right, the post."

"The post quoting you. The comments. The article. The fan video with—was that Sufjan Stevens?"

I winced. "Yeah."

He exhaled, slow and even. "So."

"So."

I scratched at the back of my neck. "Okay. First off, I'm sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen."

"You told a reporter we were dating."

"I was joking. You know me," I waved my hands in the air, "funny TJ. She ambushed me outside the arena and started asking questions about the photo, and I panicked. It just came out."

Mason tilted his head slightly. "Your version of panic is inventing a romantic relationship with me?"

I scratched my head. "Yes?"

He nodded once, like a human resources officer adding a comment to my file..

"I was gonna say something sooner, like at practice, but… well, next thing I knew I was home. Then, everything blew up, and I figured I should talk to you before we figured out damage control."

He walked to the window and looked out like he needed a minute to decide whether my actions would ever be forgivable.

"I'm not mad," he said finally.

My jaw dropped. "You're not?"

He turned back toward me. "No. I mean, I'm not thrilled that my mom texted me a heart emoji and a rainbow flag an hour ago, but… no. I'm not mad."

I laughed. "Well, that's good, because I think I'm dying."

His mouth twitched.

"Did you know they came up with a name for us?" I tried to keep things light. "Rykson. It's not even bad. Kinda sounds like a Scandinavian furniture brand."

He raised an eyebrow.

"You really didn't mean for this to happen?"

"I swear. I didn't plan any of it. I joked because joking's easier than feeling things. Than saying the real stuff. Which—" I cut myself off, realizing Mason wasn't a priest, and it wasn't time for confessions.

He watched me a second longer before sitting on the edge of my couch. "Okay, so now what?"

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