"I don't know if I'd call Cerise chill, but she's cool."
"Are those the kind of people you used to hang around with?" I asked.
"Not usually," Mason said. "Cherry Lips was a small indie band once, too. They didn't start out famous. But they were one of the lucky ones who struck it big. Most of the bands I worked with, they're doing fine with touring and merchandise sales, but none of them have had the success of Cerise's band."
"I guess it's hard to make it in the music industry," I said. "I feel kind of bad for musicians. They work hard for years and years, all the while knowing there's a chance they might never see any level of success." I looked down at my beer and scratched at the label. "I feel like a slacker compared to them. I travel around wherever I want, taking odd jobs here and there, doing what I please. Kind of makes me sound irresponsible and flighty, huh?"
"Not at all," Mason said. "It sounds like you're doing exactly what you said you wanted to do: You're living life to the fullest." He put a hand on my knee and squeezed. "Do you ever get tired of it?" he asked. "Ever think about slowing down?"
It was the perfect opportunity to broach the subject. Did I want to talk about this in a sketchy dive bar, in front of Mason's friends?
If I said that I was thinking of staying because of him, would he run away scared? Was that too close to a commitment? We'd both agreed this was all just for fun. Nothing serious. But that had been ages ago. So much had changed between us since then.
"My company offered to extend my contract," I said. "I'm thinking of taking them up on it."
Mason cocked his head.
"For how long?" he asked.
"At least a year," I said. "Maybe more. Long enough that I'd need to settle down here. I'd finally stop moving every few months."
Mason's hand went still on my knee.
"So what you're saying is, you're starting to think long term?" he asked.
I met his eyes.
"Yeah," I said. "I want to get serious about things."
Mason's expression was so smooth and unwavering, I couldn't tell what he was thinking. My hands went cold and clammy.
Then a smile broke out on his face.
"I like the sound of that," he said.
"You do?" I asked.
"I mean, it's kind of sad you won't be able to write in your blog as much. But like you said," he gave me a teasing wink, "no one reads it anyway."
I made a face at him, although inwardly I was overtaken with joy and relief.
I'd told Mason I was thinking of staying, and it hadn't exploded in my face. In fact, he'd been happy to hear the news.
"Although, I thought your job was boring," Mason continued. "Are you sure you want to keep working there?"
"It pays well, the managers aren't dicks, and I've even made some friends." Well, I'd made one, at least. "There are much worse things than having a boring job."
"You'll just have to find ways to make it more exciting," he said.
"How do you make a job answering phones exciting?" I asked.
"Phone sex," he replied, straight-faced.
"I am not having phone sex with you at my job."
"What about phone sex when you're not at your job?"
"Is that another one of yourthings?" I asked shrewdly.