More Than a Game | Mason Mount

Thirty Two

I purposefully took the longer route to Cobham later that morning. That morning with Mason left me in a rotten mood, so when I still arrived a bit early, I just sat in my car until it was a good enough time to get changed. I didn't want to get there early and have to chat to anyone, not even Kyle. The thought of having to fill him in on the night made me shudder. 

After shrugging off questions from Olly and Kyle about my bad mood, we took to the pitch. Mason's kit had been laid out in the changing room, but I had yet to see him. On the drive, I'd been hopeful that my words got through to him, somehow, and he would make a surprise appearance at Cobham anyway, but it seemed like that was too much to ask from a hung over, troubled Mason. 

"Hey, where's Mitch?" The question came from Annika as we were warming up and it almost made me bristle with irritation. 

"Beck? Do you know?" Kyle wondered. 

I was scowling at the ground as I received the ball from Fran, and I kicked it much too hard back at her. "He's not coming." 

"Is this why you're in a bad mood?" I knew Fran's question was meant to be light-hearted, but it still made me take a deep breath in. 

"Mason's always the reason Beck is in a bad mood," Annika added. 

I rolled my eyes and tried to ignore the taunts, but Fran's next words took it too far. "Except when he's putting her in a really good mood." 

I returned the ball to Fran before turning around and stalking across the pitch. Confused remarks from the group followed me as I headed for Jody, our assistant coach, who was busy setting up beacons for a drill. 

"Hey, Jody, can I run to the loo quick?" I asked. 

She looked up, surprised, but nodded anyway. "Hurry back, we'll start soon." 

I took off at a jog across the pitch, heading back for the main entrance. The amount of rage I felt surprised me. I wondered if it was actually because of Mason and the mess from the previous night, or because of the interrupted sleep I'd had. I was generally a person that needed a lot of sleep and tended to get moody when I didn't, but this was taking it to another level. 

My boots clicked against the floor and the sound echoed around me as I re-entered the building. I didn't even need the loo; I'd mostly just wanted to escape the banter coming from my teammates. But now that I was back inside, I suppose I would go back to the changing room anyway, maybe retie my hair or splash my face. I was busy pulling out my hair tie when I rounded a corner, and voices coming from up ahead made me slow my pace so I could hear them. 

It sounded like Frank, which would explain his absence on the pitch. The other voice was talking low, quiet, making it hard for me to distinguish. Rounding the final corner before the changing room, I stopped in my tracks, my arms lifted above my head frozen, too. 

Mason stood with his back to me in front of Frank, whose face was in a deep frown. He'd clearly been mid-sentence, but stopped when I appeared. Meeting his eyes, I felt my cheeks heat up, aware that I'd interrupted something I wasn't meant to see. Mason obviously saw Frank glance up, because a moment later he looked over his shoulder. 

My stomach turned with strange emotions. On one hand, I was mightily impressed to see Mason here at all. The hopes I'd had in the car ended up being valid and here he was. On the other hand, I was still so frustrated at him that just seeing him almost set me off again. Mostly, though, I was just astounded. 

Before either of them could say anything, I ducked into the changing room. There, I sat on the closest bench, my hands on either side of my legs, in shock. I didn't move for what felt like a while, more worried of leaving and disturbing Frank and Mason again more than anything. But when the door opened and a timid-looking Mason entered, I wished I had left.