As fun as the "fun and games" part of our day had been, I knew it couldn't last forever. I left the house early this morning and it was just past lunch now. Any more than another hour or two and rumors would start flying. A sad, but unfortunate truth that hung forebodingly in the air as we shuffled around boxes.

I let out a small grunt as I moved a particularly heavy one from the floor to the table for easier access. I wiped my face as a bead of sweat rolled down my temple. Well, at least my cover story about sweating up a storm here would pan out now.

Mason, however, didn't seem to have that problem. I watched as he shifted boxes here, there, and everywhere. Boxes that I'd given up on myself just because of how heavy they were. Yet he moved them effortlessly. As if they were nearly empty.

Finally, I could stand it no more. My disbelief and curiosity got the better of me. "Alright, come on, spill. How exactly did you get so jacked?"

"Huh? What do you mean?" He asked, glancing up from the box he was unpacking.

"What do I mean?! Come on, don't act like you don't see me struggling to move one of these boxes while you're over there carrying six. And do I even need to remind you about our little session in the shower not long ago?" I hinted.

"Yes, please, remind me of everything," he teased.

I threw a wadded-up ball of newspaper at him. "Come on, spill. I mean, I know I'm not exactly injecting melted cheese into my veins or anything, but I'd hardly call myself a lightweight either. No way in hell you could lift me that way for that long without some kind of trick behind it."

"No trick involved. Just hard work," he explained, shrugging. "I used to work in the warehouses moving inventory around. Nine to five of that five days a week will make anybody jacked. And, trust me, compared to some of the boxes, you are a lightweight."

I was surprised. Not about his explanation itself. I mean, he was right. I'm pretty sure a workout like that would give anybody a few muscles.

Instead, I was more surprised to hear that he'd worked in a warehouse at all. Classism being what it is, you didn't really find a lot of laborers in this kind of neighborhood. Most of the neighborhood was office workers, attorneys, and other white-collar jobs. The few laborers who did manage to find themselves here usually did it through dumb luck. Inheritance, family connections, and one stockbroker who lost everything in the market and had to sell his house at a rock-bottom price just to break even.

A fucked up and unfortunate truth? Yes. But a truth nonetheless. Which is what made his answer so shocking to hear.

Still, a part of me was happy to hear it. As much as Mason and I had been talking, I felt like I barely knew anything about him. It was nice to learn something new about him. Unrelated to sex for once.

"I don't know how you do it," I commented, shaking my head. "We've only been moving shit around for about an hour and I'm already sick of it."

"Ah, well, honestly, it was a while ago," he clarified. "I haven't been in the warehouse for a few years now. But yeah, it wasn't fun. Honestly, I think that might be part of the reason I have such a hard time moving my ass and actually unpacking."

"Can't blame you there," I sighed, grabbing another armful of things from the box. "So, what finally made you quit?"

"Nothing." He chuckled at my confused expression. "I never quit. I got moved into a higher position."

"Oh, cool. You got promoted?"

He grimaced slightly. "Not exactly. It's... kind of the family business, I guess. The position's basically been reserved for me since before I was born. My dad just believes that a good leader should know how to do every job in the company. That way he understands how his workers feel and won't take them for granted. So, he started me at the warehouses. You know, to 'work my way up' and all that."

"And you're unhappy about that because...?"

He looked surprised. Maybe he didn't notice that he'd been doing it, but the entire time he'd been talking, he had this miserable look on his face. Mason didn't exactly strike me as the typical, entitled heir to a business who felt he shouldn't have to work, so I was sure there was something more to it than that.

He smiled sheepishly. "Was I that obvious?"

"Little bit."

He chuckled softly and shook his head. "Don't get me wrong, I do think it's a good policy, and I really respect my dad and the way he handles his business. It's just... I don't know. Ever since I got 'promoted' it feels like I don't belong there.

I mean, I like my job. I work hard at it. Hell, I'd even say that I'm pretty good at it, but... Well, no matter how hard I work or what I do, I always know that I'm 'the boss's kid.' That my position didn't actually come from hard work or talent. I'm just there because of who my dad is..."

As he trailed off, his head turned in my direction. His eyes widened slightly as they landed on me. As if he'd completely forgotten about my existence and had been talking out loud to himself this whole time. I saw a faint blush on his cheeks as he quickly turned back to the box he'd been unpacking.

"Ah, sorry. Guess I kind of went off on a rant there. You know how it is," he mumbled, still refusing to look at me.

It was kind of funny. In every interaction I had with Mason, he always seemed so confident and self-assured. Like he knew exactly what he wanted and exactly what to do to get it. It was like he was some kind of untouchable object. Something so far beyond my reach that I could never even hope to possess it. Yet, as I looked at him now, so awkward and insecure, it made him seem so small. Like he wasn't really out of reach at all.

I walked over to him and placed my hand on his arm gently. "I don't think you're there just because you're the boss's kid."

He let out a small laugh. "Thanks for the confidence boost, but you don't have to give me empty encouragement. It's fine."

"It's not empty," I insisted. "Look, I don't know your dad, or even what you actually do honestly, but you make it sound like he's the kind of person who really cares about his business."

"He is," he admitted. "It was my grandfather's before it was his, and growing up, he watched him put his all into building it. Dad really worked his ass off to prove to my Grandpa that he was the right person to take over the business, so when Gramps finally passed the torch to him, it was a huge deal. He takes his work very seriously."

"Then why would you think that you're there just out of nepotism?" I asked. "I mean, I'm sure it gave you a leg up. I'll admit that. But do you honestly think he would have given you the position if he didn't think you would be good at it? Or, at the very least, do you think he would have kept you there if you weren't?"

He looked at me with surprise. Then, slowly, a smile came over his face. He glanced down at my hand on his arm and covered it gently with his own. Again, that strange, soft warmth ran through me at his touch.

"Thanks, Maggie..."

Now it was my turn to blush. I pulled my hand away, hurrying back to the box I'd been working on.

"I don't know what you're thanking me for. I was just pointing out the obvious." I cleared my throat, desperate to change the subject. "So, umm, what do you do, by the way? You mentioned something about warehouses and moving up, but never actually told me your job."

"Huh? Isn't it obvious? You're looking at the V.P. of the company," he said playfully, flashing a cheesy magazine cover pose.

I rolled my eyes. "Ah, of course. My apologies, Your Highness."

He laughed. "Hey, come on! Let me have this. It's not too often I get to pull that card on a new person. Can't you at least pretend to be impressed?"

"Oh, of course," I teased. "Should I stay standing to bow down to you, or should I get on my knees to do it instead?"

"On your knees, please."

That sent both of us laughing. Again, that same lightness from before filled my body. Only this time, I couldn't blame it on us "sharing a nice meal" together.

No, by this point, it was pretty obvious that the common factor was Mason. I couldn't explain it, but everything he said, everything he did just made me feel so alive. I couldn't remember the last time I'd laughed this much. Or even just had a decent conversation with somebody. Had it really been this long since I'd had somebody that I could talk to? Since I'd had a "friend?"

As this thought floated through my head, my nails scraped against bare cardboard. I glanced down to see the box that I'd been working on was empty. I didn't think much about it. Until I noticed the next one was empty too. And the next one, and the next one.

Each new empty box only seemed to carve away at me more and more. By the time I finally reached the last one, I felt almost as empty inside as it was. Ready to give way at any moment and crumple under the crushing weight of the devastating realization.

"I, umm... I think I've unpacked everything on my side," I said reluctantly.

Mason looked up in shock before glancing back down at his box. He didn't look happy either. "Oh, umm... I think this is the last one on my side too..."

Neither of us said anything, both unwilling to acknowledge the elephant in the room. Unfortunately, something that big really is impossible to ignore. As much as I'm sure we both wished we didn't, we knew what had to happen next.

"Well... I... guess I should be getting home then. You know, start dinner and all that," I said, faking cheerfulness. I forced a smile to my face.

Mason didn't seem too happy with that though. He stood up immediately and stormed over like a man on a mission. He cupped my face in his hands gently, but the look in his eyes was dead serious.

"Not with me. Okay?" He almost begged. "Please, never with me.

I get it. I do. In this kind of place, around these kinds of people, you have to do it. You have to be that cheery housewife that they expect you to be. You have to force the smiles, and fake the laughs, and pretend that everything is perfect all the time. You have to do that with them. I get it.

But... please... never do it with me..."

He looked so desperate that I almost wanted to cry. I never imagined a fake smile could hurt somebody as much as mine seemed to hurt him. And it hurt me too. Because I knew that in a matter of minutes, I'd be forced to put it back on. And there was no telling when I might finally be able to take it off again.

I placed my hand over his and turned my head to kiss his palm. "Okay, I promise..."

He smiled at me sadly. "Well, jeez, that's not any better. Don't you have any other expressions besides 'phony housewife' and 'soul-crushing misery?'"

"Nope, sorry. Just the two."

He leaned forward, pressing his lips against my forehead. "Liar. I saw them earlier. I'd dare to say one of them even looked 'happy'."

"You take that back," I teased.

He snickered, moving his hands away from my face. "See? There's a third one. Who knows, with enough hard work and determination, maybe you can even have a fourth."

"No thanks. Three is already too many... But..." I paused, butterflies forming in my stomach. "Maybe we can attempt a fourth the next time I come by?"

His face brightened a bit at the mention of me coming back. "It's a date."

And then, it was time. As much as we'd been putting it off and dragging it out, as much as we'd ignored and covered its existence with witty banter and bad jokes, as much as we both wanted to forget, the time had finally come. It was time for me to leave.

He walked me to the door, a somber silence hanging in the air around us. I tried to force a smile to my face as I looked at him, but I dropped it just as quickly. Instead, a small sigh exited my lips.

"Thank you for today. I had a lot of fun," I said honestly.

"Yeah, me too," he admitted.

I turned towards the door, but before I even managed to take one step, I felt his arm around my waist. He pulled me back towards him and pressed his lips to mine. Firm, desperate, passionate. Like he was afraid it might be the last time he ever saw me.

After a time that felt both too long and too short, he finally released me. Another sad smile on his face. "Come back soon."

I gave him a small nod before turning toward the door again with a hollowness in my heart. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath as I wrapped my hand around the doorknob.

Alright, Maggie. It was show time.