An Open Seat
1490 Words
Mimi’s POV
Mason doesn’t make a big deal out of it.
That’s the first thing I notice.
We’re leaving last period together—him with his jacket slung over one shoulder, me tucking charcoal-stained fingers into my sleeves—and he says it like it’s nothing. Like he’s asking if I want notes from yesterday’s quiz.
“You wanna come out with us tonight?”
I blink. “Us?”
“The group,” he says. “Food. Maybe a movie after. No pressure.”
No pressure. He says it like it’s a promise.
I glance at him. He’s looking ahead, not watching my reaction, not bracing for rejection. It’s oddly disarming.
“Okay,” I say before I can overthink it. “Yeah. I’d like that.”
He grins—quick, genuine. “Cool.”
That’s it. No follow-up. No expectation.
Just an open seat.
We meet up after school in the parking lot. Jessie’s car is already there, Roman leaning against the hood like he owns the asphalt. Cassie sits on the curb nearby, knees tucked to her chest, Jessie’s hoodie draped over her shoulders. Lena’s with Roman, close but not clinging, her hand absently twisting the ring on her finger.
They all look… comfortable. Lived-in.
Mason hangs back with me, matching my pace without saying so. “You good?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Just—new.”
“Fair.” He pauses, then adds lightly, “They don’t bite. Unless asked.”
I snort before I can stop myself. He laughs, pleased.
Introductions happen easily, like I’ve been expected. Cassie smiles at me—warm, curious. Lena offers a quiet wave that feels sincere. Roman gives me a nod that’s respectful, not assessing. Jessie’s gaze lingers a second longer than the rest, not possessive of me—protective of Cassie.
It’s… a lot. But not overwhelming.
We pile into two cars and head for a late diner just off the highway. Vinyl booths, flickering neon, the smell of fries and syrup. The kind of place that forgives loitering.
I slide into the booth beside Mason. Across from us, Cassie sits half-turned toward Jessie, her leg draped over his lap without thinking about it. Lena mirrors her with Roman, quieter but just as natural. No one comments. No one stares.
I notice everything.
The way Jessie checks Cassie’s plate before his own. The way Roman murmurs something to Lena that makes her relax instantly. The way Mason—loud, joking Mason—keeps his voice lower with me, checks in with a glance instead of a tease.
“So,” Mason says once menus are down, “what’s your thing?”
“My… thing?”
“Everyone’s got one,” he shrugs. “Cassie’s got soccer and stubbornness. Roman pretends he doesn’t like people. Jessie’s a control freak.”
“Hey,” Jessie says mildly.
Mason smirks. “Exhibit A.”
I smile despite myself. “I draw.”
“I know,” Mason says, then winces. “I mean—I’ve seen your stuff. Around.”
“Oh.” Heat creeps up my neck. “You… noticed?”
“Hard not to,” he says. “You make the room quieter when you’re working.”
No one’s ever said that to me.
Food arrives. The conversation drifts—classes, finals, graduation creeping closer like a held breath. Caffeine orders stack up. Fries get stolen. Cassie laughs, leaning into Jessie; Lena listens, tucked into Roman’s side; Mason steals my milkshake and pretends innocence.
It feels… safe. Not because nothing could go wrong—but because if it does, I won’t be alone.
After dinner, we end up back at the house they’ve been slowly making into a home. Shoes kicked off by the door. Music low. Someone puts on a movie no one really watches.
I sit on the floor with my back against the couch. Mason drops down beside me, knees stretched out, shoulder brushing mine.
“You okay?” he asks again, softer now.
I nod. “Yeah. I think I am.”
He tilts his head. “You don’t have to stay if it’s too much.”
“I want to,” I say. And then, honest, “I like how you all… fit.”
There’s a beat of silence. Not awkward. Considered.
“We take care of each other,” Mason says. “That’s kind of the rule.”
I glance at him. “Is it a rule?”
He smiles, small and real. “More like a choice. Every day.”
The movie plays on. Laughter bubbles up and fades. Jessie’s arm tightens around Cassie when something loud happens onscreen; Roman presses a kiss to Lena’s hair without thinking; Mason shifts so I’m more comfortable, then pretends he didn’t.
At some point, I realize I’m not counting exits anymore.
I’m just… here.
And when Mason asks, quietly, “You good to come again sometime?”
I don’t hesitate.
“Yeah,” I say. “I’d like that.”
He nods, satisfied—not triumphant.
Just patient.
Like he’s willing to wait for whatever comes next.
----
Ice cream was Cassie’s idea.
She announces it like a challenge as we spill out of the diner, pointing down the street toward a place glowing neon pink and blue, like it hasn’t updated since the nineties.
“I scored twice today,” she says, chin tipped up at Jessie. “I earned sprinkles.”
Jessie arches a brow. “You earned water and a nap.”
She grins, feral and unapologetic. “Boring.”
Roman snorts. Lena laughs softly beside him. Mason just shakes his head, amused, and gestures for me to walk with him as the group starts down the sidewalk.
It’s warm out. The kind of evening where the air hums and everything feels loose.
Cassie is… loud.
Not obnoxious — just overflowing. She talks with her hands, bumps into Jessie on purpose, steals his phone and darts away two steps just to see if he’ll chase her.
He doesn’t.
He stops walking.
“Cass,” he says calmly.
She freezes mid-step.
The shift is instant. Not fear — awareness.
She turns back, still smiling, but it’s smaller now. “Yeah?”
Jessie doesn’t raise his voice. Doesn’t scold. He just looks at her, steady and grounding.
“You’re wound up,” he says. “And you’re pushing.”
Her shoulders drop a fraction. “I’m excited.”
“I know,” he replies. “And I like that. But you’re starting to tip into careless.”
The sidewalk noise fades around us. Roman and Mason slow without comment. Lena watches quietly, familiar with this cadence.
Cassie exhales. “Okay.”
Jessie steps closer, resting a hand lightly at the small of her back. Not restraining. Anchoring.
“Walk with me,” he says. “Match my pace.”
She does.
No spectacle. No embarrassment. Just a quiet recalibration.
I didn’t realize I’d been holding my breath until Mason murmurs beside me, “He’s good at that.”
“At what?” I ask.
“Letting her be big,” he says. “Without letting her spiral.”
Something about that lands heavy and warm in my chest.
Inside the ice cream shop, Cassie’s back to glowing — but softer now. She leans into Jessie while she orders, toes hooked around his ankle like a habit she’s earned.
Roman and Lena share a sundae without speaking. Mason orders something ridiculous with three toppings and immediately offers me the first bite.
“You don’t have to,” I say.
“I know,” he replies. “I want to.”
I take it. It’s sweet and cold and messy.
Cassie laughs too loud again, and Jessie just bumps her hip gently with his. She catches herself this time, grinning sheepishly.
“Sorry,” she says.
He presses a kiss to her temple. “You’re good.”
I watch it all from the edge of the booth, my shoulder brushing Mason’s. No one tells me what to think. No one explains unless I ask.
And somehow… that makes it easier to stay.
Mason leans in, voice low. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I say. “I just… didn’t know it could look like that.”
“Like what?”
“Strong,” I answer. “Without being scary.”
He studies me for a second. “You notice things.”
“I draw,” I say.
He smiles. “Yeah. You do.”
Our knees touch under the table. He doesn’t move away.
Neither do I.
Across from us, Cassie laughs again — quieter this time — Jessie’s arm solid around her, Roman and Lena relaxed, unbothered.
The group hums. Balanced.
And for the first time, I don’t feel like I’m watching from outside the glass.
I feel like I’m being gently pulled into orbit.
Not rushed.
Not claimed.
Just… invited.
- Writer
