Temporary Bandages

The car pulled up to the club’s entrance, its neon lights glowing vibrantly against the dark night. Ava exhaled slowly as she stepped out of the vehicle. The sound of music pulsed faintly through the building’s thick walls, like a heartbeat drawing her into the escape she sought.

Before she could even take a step, Mason was at her side, moving as though he’d been waiting for this moment. His hand snaked gently around her waist, pulling her closer with a casual confidence that felt too familiar. For a brief moment, Ava’s body tensed.

It wasn’t Orion’s hand.

The realization struck her like a whisper against her mind—unwelcome but undeniable. Mason’s touch was comforting, sure, but it lacked the possessiveness, the fire that Orion always carried. The one that got her all wet and crazy. She shook the thought off almost instantly. Why can’t I have fun too? she reminded herself. Orion certainly is.

“You look stunning,” Mason said, leaning in close enough that his voice was audible over the rising thump of bass.

Ava forced a small smile. “Thanks. You look good. As always,” she mentally face-palmed herself; why did I add the last part?’

Soon enough, she allowed him to guide her through the doors, where the energy of the club hit her full force.

The music was louder now, a steady rhythm pounding through the air and rattling the floors. Streaks of colored light flashed across the room, cutting through the dark haze and illuminating groups of people—some swaying, others shouting over the music as they huddled around small tables.

Mason led her toward a quieter corner where a small booth had been reserved. It offered enough distance from the crowd to breathe but still felt alive with the hum of energy all around them.

They settled in, and soon two drinks were placed in front of them—whiskey for Mason, something sweeter for Ava. The ice clinked as she swirled the glass absentmindedly, watching the crowd. There was something oddly comforting about this scene: strangers laughing, glasses raised, bodies lost in movement. No pretense, no hidden motives. Just people existing.

Mason took a sip of his drink and leaned back, his gaze resting on her. “Feels good to be out, doesn’t it?”

Ava hummed softly, nodding. “It does.”

The two fell into easy conversation as the night unfolded around them. Mason had a way of pulling laughter out of her—a skill he must have perfected over the years. They reminisce about old memories: a disastrous double date that ended with Mason tripping into a fountain, his failed attempt at cooking for a work event that resulted in a fire alarm and half-burnt lasagna.

Ava rolled her eyes, her laughter trailing off as she took another sip of her drink. The burn was soft but steady, dulling the ache in her chest just enough to make her feel lighter.

“You know, I’ve missed this,” Mason said, his tone quieter now. “Seeing you laugh. Seeing you... relaxed.”

Ava’s smile faltered slightly as she stared into her glass. “Yeah, I’ve missed it too.”

Ava’s head hung low. Mason had fun memories. The exciting and thrilling stories to share, but she had nothing. She had never truly lived, loved or had friends and that made her heart ache a little.

But the truth was, it felt strange. The night was moving like a song she should know the lyrics to but couldn’t quite connect with. Mason was familiar, safe—a reminder of a life she would have had if her father wasn’t so terrible at parenting and everything in-between.

But even as she smiled and drank, a small voice in her mind reminded her of the truth:

This wasn’t her escape. It was a temporary bandage—one she would have to rip off eventually.

As the night carried on, Ava felt the effects of the drinks warm her body and blur her mind. Mason, ever attentive, noticed her relaxed posture and the way her eyes sparkled when she laughed—something he hadn’t seen in far too long.

But the mood shifted subtly when Ava’s phone buzzed on the table. She glanced at the screen, frowning at Rose’s message.

“The architect called off. Last minute.”

Ava let out an exasperated sigh, furrowing her brows as she read the text over again.

“What’s wrong?” Mason’s voice was soft, but his concern was genuine. He leaned closer, his drink forgotten on the table.

“It’s work. Rose just texted—our architect bailed on us. We were finalizing the plans this week for the new project, and now we’re stuck. This couldn’t have come at a worse time.”

A flicker of amusement passed through Mason’s face, and to her surprise, he smiled. “Did I ever tell you I’m an architect?”

Ava blinked, staring at him as if he’d just grown a second head. “What?”

He chuckled, the sound deep and smooth, like a quiet promise. “Yeah. You’re looking at the best in the business.” He leaned back, tapping his chest playfully. “And lucky for you, I’m not even that expensive.”

“No way.” Ava’s expression was incredulous. “You? An architect?”

“Yes, Ava,” Mason teased, feigning offense. “What’s so hard to believe? I’ve been in the industry for years. I just... don’t advertise it much.”

Ava shook her head, a disbelieving laugh escaping her lips. “How did I not know this?”

Mason grinned, leaning in closer. “Because you never asked. But don’t worry—I won’t charge you.” His voice dropped into something teasing. “All it’ll cost you is a few date nights. Maybe some movie marathons.”

Ava couldn’t help it—she laughed, the sound bubbling up from somewhere deep inside her. “Oh, is that so?”

“Absolutely.” Mason clinked his glass against hers. “Consider it my gift to you.”

Ava swirled her drink thoughtfully, warmth spreading through her chest—not from the alcohol this time, but from something deeper. She looked at Mason, a smile tugging at her lips. “Thank you, Mason. You just came into my life, and somehow... you’re already helping me ease the burden. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Mason’s gaze softened, his expression holding something she couldn’t quite name. “You’re not alone, Ava. You’ve got people who care about you. I care about you.”

Her chest tightened, the sincerity in his words hitting her in a way she wasn’t prepared for. The drinks continued to flow, and soon, Ava could feel her senses slipping. Her laughter came more easily, her words tumbling out without the usual guard she kept in place. Mason’s presence felt comforting, steady—like a lifeline she hadn’t realized she needed.

At some point, she found herself leaning into him, her shoulder brushing against his. The scent of his cologne lingered in the air—subtle, masculine, grounding. She tilted her head up to look at him, a lazy smile on her lips.

“You know,” she murmured, her voice softer now, “you’re not so bad, Mason.”

Mason chuckled, his arm draping casually over the back of the booth as his fingers ghosted the edge of her shoulder. The touch was light, almost hesitant, but it sent a shiver down her spine. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Ava’s gaze lingered on his face longer than it should have—on the sharp line of his jaw, the warmth in his eyes. The alcohol buzzed in her veins, making everything feel hazy and weightless. Her head dipped forward slightly, resting closer against his chest.

Mason’s hand shifted, his fingers brushing along the side of her arm in slow, deliberate strokes. Ava’s breath hitched at the contact, her mind clouding further. It wasn’t Orion’s touch—it was gentler, kinder, and that realization made her chest twist with something she couldn’t name.

“Is this okay?” Mason asked softly, his voice a low murmur near her ear.

Ava didn’t answer right away. Her head felt too light, her thoughts too tangled. Instead, she hummed softly, her eyes half-lidded as she let the moment wash over her.

Mason shifted again, and suddenly, his lips pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek. Ava froze, the sudden intimacy breaking through her haze. A hiccup escaped her mouth, unbidden and ungraceful.