Page 88 of Penalty Box
I told myself it was about boundaries. Priorities. But really, it was about avoiding the phantom pain of being near Mason without having him. A machine didn’t ask questions or offer condolences. It simply did what it was built for, and when it broke, I fixed it. That was my favorite part.
I was in the middle of one such session in my neighbor’s garage one morning, when Josie (of all people) texted me.
Brunch. 11am. Sharon’s coming too. Don’t flake out on me.
The drive to Seraphina’s was riddled with several moments where I almost turned back. I’d never hung out with Josie on my own before. Hell, I’d never considered myself ‘one of the girls’. Ever.
But I didn’t turn back, and even cracked a smile when she waved me over to their table.
“I see you dressed up for the occasion,” she said when I slid into the booth.
“Yep, I stained these work jeans just for you. Pulled this shirt from a Goodwill bin on my way over.”
They laughed, and it immediately relaxed the atmosphere. Luckily, the place was only oat or almond milk fancy, nothing close to ‘no shorts or open shoes’ fancy.
“Honestly? I respect the commitment,” Sharon said. “Loving the vibe.”
Josie handed me a laminated menu. “Okay, real talk. Are we ordering for nourishment or emotional support?”
“Do they do both?” I asked, flipping to the back where they usually buried the good stuff. Behind the quinoa wall.
“They’ve got this cinnamon brioche French toast that’s legally a cry for help,” Sharon said with a solemn nod. “Highly recommend.”
A waiter appeared, and Josie ordered something with micro greens (for the IG shot, she explained after). I went with the French toast, and Sharon asked for a dirty chai, winking when she said “dirty”. I liked her instantly.
Surprisingly, conversation flowed easily, pinging between us with ease. Sharon filled us in on how her ex had rebranded himself as a mindfulness coach, and Josie ranted about the lighting at her latest product shoot that made her look like a Victorian ghost.
“What about you?” Josie fixed me with a no-nonsense look. “Your heart still on lockdown or what?”
I reached for the water glass and pretended to study the condensation. “It’s… fine.”
“Cass.”
“You have to give us something to work with here,” Sharon backed up her friend.
It was the first time I felt awkward, like I didn’t quite belong. “I’m not exactly the brunch confessional type.”
“You don’t have to worry about her,” Josie said, dismissing Sharon with a nonchalant wave. “She’s up to date on all the news with you and Mason. Best of all, she can keep a secret.”
“Best friends with an influencer and I haven’t leaked anything. Not once.” Sharon was particularly proud of this achievement, and it showed in her easy smile.
“I mean, we talked a few weeks ago. He was drunk, but honest.”
Josie’s eyes danced with intrigue and anticipation. She was eating it up, hankering for more. “And?”
I shrugged, feeling useless. Girly-girl gossip was never one of my strong points. “And, that was it. I guess I’m not angry at him anymore. I get where he was coming from, even if it was dumb to play into his coach’s hands like that.”
“And?” This time it was Sharon who prompted me.
I fumbled, a little flustered. “And… I don’t hate him. He’s off the bench and playing his game, and we’re… I don’t know. We’re nothing.”
“You know what I’m hearing?” Josie tapped her temple as if she’d just figured out something of significance.
Sharon cooed, her excitement spilling over. “Do tell.”
“Well, she doesn’t hate him. Do you know what the opposite of hate is?”
“Love,” she and Sharon said together, both looking at me as though they were bracing for my eternal gratitude. Preferably in the form of a deep bow.
