More Than a Game | Mason Mount

Twenty Four

My anxiety the next morning at breakfast had nothing to do with the upcoming game and everything to do with Mason and what had almost happened last night. When Abby and I entered the dining room a bit late, I'd expected to see Mason already seated, but now I had dished up and was about to tuck in and he was still nowhere to be seen. His lack of presence probably had nothing to do with me, but I still sat nervously, my stomach too full with butterflies to eat much. 

"What's up, Becks?" Abby's voice tore me out of my daze, and I looked at her surprised. "You look really freaked out." 

"Oh," I said stupidly. "Uh, I'm just nervous for later." 

The excuse was lame, but given how my nerves generally did get the better of me on game days, she seemed to accept it. She shrugged and kept eating while I kept my eyes trained on the doorway. 

A couple of seconds later Mason wandered in, Walter in his tow. My heart leapt and my stomach clenched at the sight of him. Thoughts from last night came flooding back and just remembering what happened made my cheeks heat up. Mason stopped to survey the room. Keeping my eyes trained on him, I held my breath. When his gaze fell onto me, I felt like squirming. He stared at me for a second, his face giving nothing away. Before I could look away, he was turning to follow Walt to the buffet. 

His reaction didn't make my nerves settle, but a comment from Kyle telling me I needed to eat made me shovel scrambled eggs into my mouth anyway. Marcus was busy telling the table a story loudly, but I was barely processing his words. However, I did process Abby's next words. 

"Jeez, Mase, you alright?" 

My eyes moved up so quickly that I felt dizzy for a moment. Mason was standing over the empty chair beside Marcus, his plate already on the table. 

"Swell thanks, Abs." His tone was scornful, souring the mood at the table quickly. In the silence that followed, he took a seat and started poking at the food on his plate. 

The eggs in my mouth had turned to ash and it was making me want to throw up. Mason looked as terrible as I felt when he finally lifted a forkful to his mouth. Staring down at his food, it was clear that there would be no cheering him up today. 

"Anyway, like I was saying," Marcus mumbled. "My brother is in this bathroom stall and..." 

Marcus' words became meaningless background noise. I stared at my plate, convinced it was poisonous all of a sudden. The thought of wanting to eat – of wanting to do anything – made my stomach churn. Pushing my plate further forwards, I sat back and crossed my arms, sitting through the rest of the meal in a self-conscious daze. 

When other people started stirring in the team, I took my chance. Picking up my plate, I left the table without a word and headed towards where George, Harry and Sophie were clearing their plates. The boys were laughing at a story Sophie was telling as I came up next to them, scraping the remainder of my breakfast into the bin. I could hear Sophie and Harry leaving, but when I looked up from the bin, George was still standing next to me. 

"Hey, Beck, you good?" He voice was casual, but his arms laid stiff across his chest. 

"Yeah, thanks. A bit nervous for later. You?" 

"Oh, yeah, all good." He flashed me a brief smile. "Look, I don't want to make this weird or anything, but I chatted to Lance this morning." His eyes turned hard as my heart stopped. "And, look, I know he was pissed off and all, but I feel like I just need to check in with you and Mason..." 

George trailed off as the voices of Zach and Lucy sounded. I fiddled with my hoodie zip in silence as the pair added their plates to the growing pile, banter about an Instagram post filling the space between George and me. When they departed, George cleared his throat and lifted a hand to scratch his neck.