More Than a Game | Mason Mount

Fifty

I admired a sleeping Mason from the doorway of his bathroom. He was still in the same position I'd left him in ten minutes ago when I'd gone to shower: on his side, duvet discarded down at his waist, mouth parted slightly. Leaning against the doorframe, the familiar fuzzy feeling that had warmed my body on Monday morning spread through my chest. 

Mason shifted. His eyebrows flickered down over his still shut eyes before he let out a long exhale. I rolled my lips into my mouth to suppress a grin as one crept across Mason's lips. 

"Hart, quit staring at me," he mumbled, voice thick with drowsiness. 

"I'm not." 

His eyes fluttered open. They looked around, glazed over, for a second before he lifted them to where I stood. My heart swelled as he took me in the same way I did him. Bare chest, unkempt hair, goofy, sluggish smile on his face. Despite seeing my reflection moments ago, I tried to picture myself through his eyes: flushed cheeks, hair wrapped up in a towel on my head, probably the same giddy grin he wore. 

"Morning, creep," he murmured. "You going to stand there all day?" 

"Maybe," I giggled. "It's not a bad view." 

Mason chuckled and rolled onto his back. With a sleepy sigh, he stretched his arms above his head. Meeting my gaze, he motioned to his side. 

"Get over here," he said. 

I eyed the empty left side of his bed, but chose to skip over to his right instead. He lifted the duvet and I slipped under it. Instantly, heat radiated off Mason's body and spread across mine. Despite that, shivers still ran down my spine as Mason wrapped his arms around me and burrowed into my side. I slipped my arm around his shoulders and tugged him closer. 

"You okay?" 

I nodded and lifted my hand. "Yeah, I'm good," I replied. His skin was warm under my fingers as I ran them up and down the side of his arm. "Are you?" 

"So good." 

Mason's hands stretched across my back. His body in my arms heaved as he exhaled again. I shut my eyes and leant my head against his, feeling every bit of tension in my body melt away as I did. My mind replayed the events of last night. Part of me expected some of the same panic from Monday morning to grip my thoughts, but nothing but bliss flashed through my mind. 

"I love late training," Mason sighed. "Imagine being at Cobham already." 

"No chance you'd be there already," I teased. "It's only half nine." 

"Half nine?" Mason repeated, a hint of alarm in his tone. "Ah, shit. I probably need to get up soon." 

"Do you have to?" I looked down at Mason and pouted. 

"Yeah, Pip and I are going for brunch at eleven." He shifted in my arms. Tilting his head, he met my eyes. My cheeks warmed again. 

"Brunch? Sounds fancy." 

"It is fancy." Jokingly, he shook his head. "We're going to one of the top ten most Instagrammable brunch spots in London, according to Pippa." 

"No ways." I laughed. "That's incredible." 

"Yeah, well, you aren't the one that's going to have to take a million photos of her," Mason said, laughing too. Something in his expression changed and vulnerability flashed across his eyes. "Well, unless you want to join us." 

I blinked down at him. Now, anxiety did spike in my chest, familiar and sour. Swallowing, I tried to push it aside but found it tougher to do than I'd hoped. Clearly it showed on my face, because Mason's expression fell and he lowered his eyes away from mine.