Proximity
1588 Words
Mason Reed’s POV
I don’t plan it.
That’s the thing—I never do.
But when Mimi’s standing by her locker at lunch, sketchbook hugged to her chest like it’s armor, I hear myself say, “You wanna sit with us?”
Us meaning the table.
That table.
She looks at me like I’ve just asked her to step into traffic. “You’re serious?”
“Yeah,” I say easily. Too easily. “It’s just lunch.”
She studies my face, searching for the punchline.
There isn’t one.
“…Okay,” she says finally. “As long as I can leave if it’s weird.”
I grin. “Deal.”
The cafeteria is loud in that way that never quite turns into chaos—but our table is its own gravity well.
Jessie’s already there, legs stretched out, Cassie sitting sideways in his lap like she belongs there without question. She’s tucked close, one hand fisted lightly in his hoodie string, laughing softly at something he murmurs in her ear.
Roman’s across from them, Lena perched beside him, hip pressed to his thigh. She’s calmer today, hair still damp from practice showers, fingers idly tracing the seam of Roman’s jeans while she listens to him talk.
No one’s hiding anything.
No one’s flaunting it either.
It just is.
Mimi slows beside me.
I feel it—the moment she clocks it. The closeness. The quiet authority. The way Cassie leans back without looking, trusting Jessie to be there. The way Lena’s posture changes when Roman shifts, subtle but immediate.
Her shoulders tense.
“Remember,” I murmur, low. “You can bail anytime.”
She nods. “I know.”
Still, she follows me to the table.
“Reed,” Jessie says, eyes flicking up. Then he notices Mimi. His gaze sharpens—not unkind, but assessing. “Hey.”
“Mimi,” I say. “This is Jessie. Roman. Cassie. Lena.”
Cassie smiles first. Open. Warm. “Hi.”
Lena gives a small nod, kind but reserved.
Roman just says, “Hey,” like he’s already decided Mimi’s safe.
That matters more than it should.
Mimi murmurs greetings and takes the seat beside me, carefully choosing the edge—not boxed in, not isolated.
Smart.
Conversation flows around her at first—Jessie teasing Cassie about an upcoming test, Roman reminding Mason (me) that I still owe him twenty bucks.
Mimi listens.
Watches.
She notices how Jessie’s hand stays steady at Cassie’s waist. How Cassie eats one-handed without even thinking about it. How Lena leans in when Roman lowers his voice, like it’s instinct.
No one explains.
No one needs to.
After a few minutes, Cassie glances at Mimi. “You draw, right?”
Mimi blinks, surprised. “Yeah.”
“That’s cool,” Cassie says. “I can barely write legibly.”
Jessie snorts. “That’s generous.”
Cassie elbows him, then settles more comfortably against his chest without missing a beat.
Mimi’s eyes flicker—curiosity, not judgment.
“Do you ever draw people?” Cassie asks.
“All the time,” Mimi replies. “Mostly when they don’t notice.”
Roman huffs a laugh. “Then we’re screwed.”
That gets a smile out of her. Real. Unforced.
Halfway through lunch, Jessie shifts, murmuring something too low for anyone else to hear.
Cassie nods immediately, sliding off his lap and into the seat beside him without complaint, still close, still connected.
Mimi notices that too.
Her gaze lifts to me, questioning—not alarmed, just… cataloging.
Later, as trays are cleared and the noise rises, she leans toward me. “They move like they’re… listening to something I can’t hear.”
I keep my voice neutral. “They know each other well.”
“That’s not all,” she says quietly.
“No,” I agree. “It isn’t.”
She doesn’t ask more.
That might be the part that gets me.
When the bell rings, everyone stands in practiced rhythm. Jessie takes Cassie’s backpack without comment. Roman waits until Lena’s beside him before moving.
Mimi pauses, watching them walk ahead.
Then she looks at me. “I don’t feel… uncomfortable,” she admits. “Just… aware.”
“That’s okay,” I say. “You don’t have to be anything else.”
She nods, thoughtful. “I think I’d like to get used to it.”
Something in my chest tightens.
“Yeah?” I ask casually.
“Yeah,” she says. “At my pace.”
I grin. “Always.”
As we head out together, I catch Roman’s eye over her head.
He arches a brow.
I shrug.
He smirks—subtle, knowing.
And for the first time, I realize this isn’t just interest.
It’s intention.
And I’m willing to take it slow—
as long as she keeps walking beside me.
--
I don’t realize I’m doing it at first.
That’s the problem.
It starts small.
Mimi’s at the lockers down the hall, crouched slightly as she digs through her bag, sketchbook peeking out from the top. A group of guys—loud, careless—cuts too close, one of them laughing as his shoulder bumps hers.
She stumbles. Catches herself.
Doesn’t say anything.
My jaw tightens before my brain catches up.
“Hey,” I snap, stepping forward. “Watch it.”
The guy blinks, surprised. “Chill, man. It was an accident.”
“Yeah,” I say, voice flat. “Be more careful.”
They move on, muttering.
Only then do I realize Jessie and Roman have both stopped behind me.
Roman’s expression is unreadable.
Jessie’s mouth twitches.
Mimi straightens slowly, eyes wide. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know,” I say automatically. “Still wanted to.”
The words hang there between us.
Too honest.
She studies my face, searching for something—intent, maybe. Possession. Something sharper than friendliness.
Whatever she’s looking for, she doesn’t seem to find it.
“Thank you,” she says softly.
I nod, suddenly aware of my pulse.
Later, in class, I catch myself angling my chair just enough to block the aisle where people pass too close. I don’t comment when someone drops their pen near her feet—I just hand it back before they can linger.
She notices.
Not in a scared way.
In a curious one.
When the bell rings, she lingers, packing up slower than usual.
“Mason,” she says, hesitating. “Can I ask you something else?”
I brace myself. “Shoot.”
“Do you always step in like that?” she asks. “Or am I just unlucky today?”
I huff a quiet laugh. “I don’t usually notice.”
She tilts her head. “But you noticed now.”
I don’t answer immediately.
Jessie passes by, Cassie trailing behind him. He glances at me, then at Mimi, then back at me—subtle, but loaded.
Roman pauses at the door. “You coming?”
“In a sec,” I reply.
Roman nods once and leaves.
Mimi’s watching me again.
“That wasn’t an answer,” she says gently.
I run a hand through my hair. “I guess I notice when things feel… off.”
“Off how?”
“Like someone’s being crowded,” I say. “Or dismissed.”
Her fingers tighten around her sketchbook. “You don’t like that.”
“No,” I say. “I really don’t.”
She considers that, then smiles—small, but real. “That’s good to know.”
After school, we walk together without planning to.
The sun’s low, warm against the pavement. She tells me about a piece she’s working on—abstract lines, heavy shadows, light breaking through in places she didn’t expect.
I listen. Actually listen.
At one point, a car slows too much as it passes.
I step closer without thinking.
She notices this time.
Stops walking.
“Mason.”
“Yeah?”
“You don’t have to guard me,” she says. Not accusing. Just stating a fact.
“I know,” I reply. “I’m not trying to.”
“Then why are you?”
I meet her eyes.
Because it feels right.
Because the thought of someone crossing her makes my skin itch.
Because I want her safe in a way I don’t have language for yet.
Instead, I say, “Habit.”
She searches my face, then nods. “Okay.”
She doesn’t pull away.
She doesn’t ask me to stop.
That might be the most dangerous part.
That night, Roman corners me in the garage while Jessie’s inside.
“You’re slipping,” Roman says calmly.
I lean against the wall. “Am I?”
“You stepped in. Twice. Positioned yourself without thinking. You’re already adjusting your behavior around her.”
I scoff. “So?”
“So,” he continues, “be careful. Not because it’s wrong—but because she doesn’t know what this means to you yet.”
I swallow. “I’m not pushing anything.”
“I know,” Roman says. “That’s why I’m warning you.”
He claps a hand on my shoulder and leaves me there with my thoughts.
Which is exactly where I don’t want to be.
Because the truth is—
I don’t want Mimi because she fits into something.
I want her because she doesn’t.
And I’m starting to realize
I’d change my entire rhythm
just to keep walking beside her.
- Writer
