The problem with having a shapeshifter for a boyfriend is that all of your fights and arguments will be at least ten times worse. I lost every single argument for the first two months because he kept distracting me with different, sexy faces. I’ve learned to close my eyes if I need to have a serious conversation with him, and for the most part it works well. The problem is that Mason never met someone who will intentionally resist his charms, and he doesn’t quite know how to deal with it. Currently, his coping method is to stomp out of our apartment in a fit of rage, and then disguise himself as a different person until he thinks I’m no longer mad at him.
It would be hilarious if it wasn’t so frustrating. The good news is that he doesn’t have a car, so I know he can’t be more than a few blocks away. The bad news is that still leaves him with twenty or so public spaces he could be hiding in.
The Starbucks was my first thought. Mason loves coffee almost as much as I do, and both of us enjoy the barista that works on Thursday nights. But he can’t shift into exact copies of people, and if he tried to be a new employee I’d find him right away. I order a tall mocha, and browse Facebook on my phone while watching the crowd. No one here seems to be alone– everyone is paired off in twos or threes talking to other people. I finish my drink and head out.
My next guess is the library. I absolutely hate it whenever he tries to hide here, simply because of how many people are in here at any given time. Of course, the one thing that is nice about it is that Mason is too vain to shapeshift into anyone unattractive or out of shape. Normal-looking people just don’t appear on his radar. And, maybe I’m being an asshole, but good-looking people don’t hang out in libraries because good-looking people don’t read. So, while there’s a lot of ground to cover, I don’t have to second guess myself very much. Mason can’t create piercings, and none of the other guys here are up to his standards. Which… means he is probably at the gym. Fuck.
Mason loves showing off for people, just like… pretty much any other person at the gym, ever. It’s a huge pain in the ass. He could be half a dozen people showering in the locker room, or any one of the jocks on the free weights. Usually he hates exercise– he doesn’t need to work out to gain muscle– but I think he’s been using exercise as a way to release his pent up aggression. I change into the set of spare clothes I keep in my locker, and scan the shower room on my way out. No one stands out, so I decide to start a workout. I grab one of the treadmills in the corner so that I can scan the gym.
My first guess is the muscular twink in the corner. The guy can’t keep his phone out of his hands, and somehow his hair is immaculate. His shoulders are pretty ridiculous, too. But I’ve never seen Mason wear a tank top before, so I decide to say nothing. Still, after twenty minutes on this damn treadmill, I really need to make a decision soon.
That’s when I notice one of the men from the locker room showers. Clever bastard. I was so captivated by his facial hair that I overlooked the obvious clue.
“We’re not done talking about this,” I say, walking straight up to him before he has a chance to sit down on one of the benches. “You don’t have a full time job. The least you can do is empty the trash and run the damn dishwasher.”
He stares back at me, with an eyebrow raised in confusion. “I… I don’t… who are you, exactly? I’m sorry, but I don’t know you.”
I cross my arms in defiance, which makes me look even more out of place next to this giant bear of an older man. It doesn’t matter. I know I’m right. I continue to glare at him until he gives up. He sighs, and drops the act. His broad shoulders droop and the smug grin on his face becomes the sarcastic smirk I know so well. “Alright, fine. You found me. How the hell did you manage to do that?” I know I shouldn’t give away my secrets, but the answer is too funny not to share. I can’t help but laugh.
“You’re still wearing your Pokemon Go device.”
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