Hey, my name is Mason Reed. I’m 25 years old and I live on the edge of Denver, Colorado in a small apartment that’s more functional than fancy. I work as a freelance web developer building sites for local coffee shops, fitness studios, and mom and pop stores. It’s not glamorous, but it pays the bills and lets me work from home. I like the quiet of it, staring at code until it clicks into place. Chaos isn’t my thing. I prefer control, predictability.
My longest relationship before now ended with her saying, “You’re always behind a wall, Mason.” She wasn’t wrong. I’ve built my life that way. Safe, solitary, no surprises. That’s why meeting Ava Hart threw me off balance. She’s 23, a graphic designer with a laugh that fills rooms and a habit of turning everything into an adventure. We met at a coffee shop downtown about a year ago. She spilled her latte on my laptop bag, apologized with this wide, unfiltered smile, and somehow talked me into sharing a table.
