More Than a Game | Mason Mount

Forty Four

"I think it'll survive," I teased, trying to lighten the mood. 

"And your wrist?" 

I shrugged and glanced down to my wrist. "It's fine, I guess. Same as earlier." 

"Any other injuries I need to check up on?" 

Relief loosened the knot in my stomach at the amusement on Mason's face. This is good, I thought. If I kept acting like nothing had changed from my side, maybe Mason would get out of his slump, too. 

"Not that I can think of this second, but the night is still young." 

Mason's grin wavered as I realised the suggestive implication of my words. My face flushed, I'm sure, but I kept on staring at Mason instead of tearing my gaze away like I wanted to. I swallowed as he crossed his arms. The intensity in his eyes tempted me to keep going down that path, but something held me back. 

Awkwardness thickened the air with each second that passed. They dragged on, neither of us saying anything. Eventually, I couldn't take it anymore. 

"Plan on putting that kettle on any time soon?" I tried to keep the words light, but the humour in my voice sounded faked even to my ears. 

"Right, tea," Mason mumbled, shaking his head. He flicked the switch on before looking back at me. "Sorry, long night, I guess." 

My heart sunk. What if he had just invited me here out of courtesy? Was he actually hoping I'd retreat into a spare room like Kyle? Or had he hoped I'd refuse the offer all together and gone home earlier? My throat prickled with foolishness. In an instant, his silence since we left the hotel made sense. 

"Uh, I can go home," I started to say, cringing at the catch in my voice. "If you want to sleep or—" 

"What?" To my surprise, Mason let out a chuckle. "No, Hart, don't you go anywhere." 

Butterflies settled in my stomach and a grin fluttered across my face. After a beat, Mason turned around and opened the cupboard above his head. Rolling my lips into my mouth, I slipped off my chair. His simple words had hinted that his head was in the same place as mine. The tension between us, I guessed, must have had to do with the fact that we both knew it. And expected it. But didn't know how to act on it.  

Right? 

I rounded the island and leant back against it, opposite from where Mason set down two mugs. My heart raced just being closer to him. Enticement reappeared and, for a second, I contemplated just reaching for him now. Before I had the chance, he looked over his shoulder at me. 

"Want the usual?" 

"Yeah, thanks." I cleared my throat. "Need any help?" 

"Could you grab the milk?" 

On shaky legs, I crossed the kitchen to the fridge. The extra warmth from Mason's jacket heated my already flushed body more. Cool air from the fridge relieved it for a second, but I suddenly wanted to tear it off as I made my way back to Mason. 

Coming up next to him, my palms felt clammy. I wiped them on my dress after setting the milk down. He shot me a smile, which then grew into a chuckle. 

"What?" I asked. Had he seen me wipe my sweaty hands? Could he tell how nauseating nervous I felt? "Why are you laughing?" 

"Nothing, I just forgot how short you are without heels on." 

I rolled my eyes. "That's rude," I scoffed. "I'm only, like, a head shorter than you." 

"Head and a half, more like."