The game definitely improved from then on, but we still came away with a four-two loss. Our first goal came from a jammy deflection off one of my crosses, which allowed Olly to simply tap the ball in. However, Liverpool came back not long after that through a world-class header from Harry Sutherland off a corner. Our second happened in stoppage time, so it was more of a consolation goal than anything else. Frank still crapped on us after the match, though, saying that the last ten minutes of the game were how we should have played from the start.
But I came away on an absolute high. My first game back in and it was clear the impact I'd had on it. The gaffer had praised me after the game privately and welcomed me back in the team talk, which made my return that much sweeter. Of course, there was still the bleakness that came with losing a match, and it dampened my satisfaction considerably.
I was still worried about Fran; she'd packed up and practically ran down to her car after the match, leaving before any of us could say anything to her. She was taken off as Frank's last sub and judging by the way she stormed off, it was clear she wasn't happy about it.
Sorting her out would be Monday's problem. For now, I wanted to chill. Even if it was no more than forty minutes I'd played, my body was exhausted. The ice bath that I normally despised after games was actually exactly what I wanted, but by the time I'd taken a shower, too, my legs felt ready to cave in.
"Hart!"
I was about to leave when I heard Mason calling for me. He was standing with a casually dressed Kyle, who was nursing his sore ankle. He waved me over to where he was, an enthusiastic smile on his face. I hadn't properly spoken to him yet; a knock near the end of the game had meant he spent a while longer on the physio table.
"Hey, here she is!" Kyle cooed, opening his arms wide for a hug.
I stepped into them with a chuckle, lapping up the compliments from my teammates. Mason grabbed me next and squeezed me so tight I was worried he'd bruise my back.
"Hey, Mase was just saying we should go over and get some food, maybe play some Fifa. You keen?" Mason was nodding as Kyle spoke, his smile growing as he met my eyes.
"Yeah, I'm in," I replied with a grin of my own. "Need me to bring anything?"
Mason shook his head. "Kyle already ordered food, though, so we better hustle."
I laughed and followed the boys towards the exit. Kyle informed me of his food choices: a nice balanced meal of steamed veggies and burgers from a place just off Kensington High Street. Considering I had been planning to take the bus back to the hotel and get home from there, we piled into Mason's car, which he'd parked underground. The drive to Mason's place wasn't far, especially given the time of the evening meant other cars were pretty scarce.
It had been ages since I'd been to Mason's house. There was a time when home games always ended with at least Kyle, Mase and me there, if not with Fran, Olly, and Annika, too. Kyle had told me early into last season that Mason had stopped inviting them over as well and he guessed it had something to do with a girl. Liv was still a mystery at that time, but now I was sure she was the reason for the broken "tradition". I'd been over a few times during the start of my rehab, but hadn't been back since December at least, either.
Stepping out of Mason's car onto the street in front of his town house filled me with nostalgia. It felt like the days pre-injury, coming straight from the Bridge to Mason's house, still in our tracksuits. Albeit back then, with Frank's first season as manager, the mood usually took a bit more lifting that it did tonight, even with our loss. A wobbly few months followed Frank's appointment, but by February we'd turned Stamford Bridge into a fortress again.
Kyle and Mason were laughing about a moment in the game where I'd slipped as we climbed the stairs to Mason's door. I just rolled my eyes at the pair, feeling too weary to shout at them.
Walking into the entranceway, a strange sadness hit me. The place looked just about the same, but small differences instantly jumped out at me: there was a strong scent of perfume in the air, unfamiliar to my nose; flowers decorated the dining room table; extra throw pillows were on his couch. I swallowed back discomfort at all the obvious feminine touches and instead replied to Mason's offer for tea.
Luckily, the games room downstairs seemed to be void of any Liv-ness. It was exactly how I remembered: fat sacks, TV that was verging on unnecessarily big, gaming consoles on the floor beneath it, and the ping pong table still in perfect condition.
I plopped onto the couch next to Kyle, careful not to spill my tea. Mason took a seat on the massive fat sack and instantly picked up a controller. Glancing over his shoulder, he pulled a face.
"We did not think through there being three of us," he muttered.
"Rock paper scissors?" Kyle asked, turning to me. I waved him off, deciding to take one for the team on the first game.
"I'll play the winner, it's okay."
"Thanks, Becky!" Kyle cheered, grabbing the remote from Mason's outstretched hand.
"You know what," I said, trying to steal the controller off him, "you can't call me Becky and expect me to still let you go first."
After a laughing apology from Kyle and some added abuse from Mase, I conceded again and sat back with my tea, watching the two boys battle it out. Just as the first game finished (three-one to Kyle), his phone bleeped, informing us that our food was here. With Kyle rushing back upstairs to get it, Mason and I were left alone.
"I can't believe how long it's been since we last did this," he mumbled. Taken by surprise at his unexpected words, I frowned at him. His expression changed. "What?"
"Nothing." That same despondency from earlier had returned. I didn't like the way my chest was suddenly hurting, so I just motioned to the TV screen. "Come on, let's start before Kyle comes back."
We played as PSG and Liverpool (Mason was determined to prove that the squad wasn't that good after all), and I was one nil up when Kyle came back down.
"What the fuck Mase?" he cried. Mason and I chuckled like kids, but a moment later Mason was shouting back at Kyle, a pillow lying beside him after deflecting off his head.
"It was Beck's idea anyway," he muttered a while later when, at halftime, Kyle had demanded the controller to finish off his game.
"Yeah, right. Just eat your burger and let me finish off Beck."
***
By midnight, it was clear that we were fading. Empty takeout boxes lay strew on the floor and somehow four tea mugs had appeared around them, too. We'd switched from Fifa to watching a movie an hour ago, but even the Will Smith thriller was barely keeping my eyes from falling shut.
"Fuck, guys, I'm about to pass out," Kyle eventually mumbled. "I think I'm gonna head."
"I should get going, too," I agreed, stretching my arms above my head. Kyle had stood up and his lanky frame towered over me as he held out a hand for me to slap.
"See you tomorrow," he was saying as he slung an arm around Mason, who'd just stood up, too. "Thanks for this; it was fun."
I said goodbye to the striker and watched him depart upstairs, Mason still under his arm. Looking around at the mess we'd created, I slowly started to gather boxes and serviettes into the brown paper bag in which they'd arrived. I could hear Kyle cackling at something upstairs and the sound brought a smile to my face.
"Oi, stop that." Mason had come back in and, turning around, I saw him motioning to the mess. "I'll do it later."
"I'm basically finished," I insisted, picking up the second last box and stuffing it into the brown bag.
Unpredictably, I felt Mason's arms wrap around me, his body slam into mine, before I hit the fat sack with a squeal. Half laughing and half shouting, I tried to wiggle free only for him to tighten his grip, laughing sweetly in my ear. After a minute of this, I groaned and stopped fighting.
"Can't believe this is what I get for cleaning up your house."
Mason giggled. "I told you not to."
Our battle had seen him grab both my hands and pin them against my stomach. I'd thought nothing of it in the moment, but now that we were just lying there, I became too aware of his hands on mine, his body pressed up against the back of me. I sharply inhaled as he shifted his position, still not letting go of my hands.
"Hey. Why'd you get weird earlier?" His voice was soft in my ear. For the first time I noticed his heart beating against my back.
"What are you talking about?"
"When I said we hadn't done this for ages?" he murmured. I could hear the uncertainty in his voice, but also the curiosity.
"I didn't." It was worth a try to deny it as I attempted to shrug my shoulders. I didn't want Mason knowing the actual reason why I'd reacted strangely to his statement.
"Bullshit," he said with an attempted chuckle. He moved again, somehow loosening his arms around my body.
"We haven't done this for ages because I haven't played a match at the Bridge for ages." It was part of the reason, so my words weren't entirely a lie. "Guess you saying that reminded me that I missed out on a whole season, Mase." I heard him sigh. "It just sucks, is all."
"Yeah, okay, I get it." His tone made me think he knew this wasn't all, but still he let the topic drop. "Sorry."
Silence fell around us as we lay there, me still stuck in Mason's embrace. His closeness was still affecting me, but part of me liked the butterflies in my stomach. Hair tickled my neck as Mason let out a deep breath, and I shut my eyes to the calming sound of his breathing. My body relaxed, letting go of tension I wasn't aware I was keeping.
"You looked like you hadn't even been out today," Mason said suddenly. "You were great, Beck."
Heat hit my cheeks as I chuckled awkwardly at the compliment. "Not really, but thanks."
"No, really," he insisted. He squeezed me once, as if to prove a point, and my pulse leaped at his action. "You changed the whole game. Like, you, just... I'm so glad you're back."
I didn't say anything, but I did daringly rub my thumb against the outside of his as I clutched on his hands tighter. He released a breath behind me, the air warm on my neck. Shivers appeared down my back. The air had changed; the stillness in it a moment ago had been replaced with energy.
"Beck-"
His voice was cut off by the sound of his doorbell ringing. I blinked in surprise, only reacting when Mason started unfolding himself from around me. Embarrassedly, I scrambled up, concerned at how shaky I felt. Mason was standing above me and he held out his hands with a small smile. I took them gratefully as he pulled me up, releasing his hands go once I was stood in front of him.
I knew who was at the door. By the way Mason was avoiding my eyes, it was clear that there was only one person I'd see when he opened it. With all my things gathered in my hands, I followed Mason up the stairs he'd just climbed. Halfway up, my hunch was confirmed.
"Oh, my God, I'm exhausted," Liv's voice echoed down to me. "I can't believe how long this shoot went on for. Didn't think I'd ever get to leave!" A pause where, with a sinking heart, I imagined they were kissing hello. "Anyway, babe, how was the game? Did you win?"
I reached the top of the stairs and shuffled into the entranceway. Liv was draped around Mason, a Louis Vuitton overnight bag at her feet. My chest stung as I regarded them for a moment, but I pushed it away and smiled: Liv had noticed my presence and was recoiling away from Mason, a frown on her face.
"Rebecca?" she retorted. Mason shot a quick look over his shoulder as well as I came to stand closer to them.
"Hi, Liv," I greeted with false friendliness.
"What are you doing here?" she replied, not unkindly but a bit coldly.
"I told you Beck and Kyle came over," Mason chimed in, reaching for her hand. "Remember?"
Liv blinked long, fake eyelashes at him. "Oh, yeah." Clearing her throat, she turned to me. "Well, how are things, Beck?"
"Pretty good thanks." I didn't return the question. Instead, I turned to Mason and quickly lifted a hand to his arm. "Thanks for having us, Mase. I'll check you tomorrow."
"How are you getting home?" he blurted.
I'd been about to turn away, but his question threw me off. My car was still at the hotel, which, albeit close to Mason, was a bit out of my way back home. I shrugged and took my phone from my hoodie pocket.
"I'll just get an Uber."
"Are you sure? I can drive you back to your car quick."
A sharp look from Liv made me awkwardly refuse the offer. "It's okay," I maintained. "I'll go get it in the morning."
Mason stared at me for a second before he glanced back at Liv (who was glaring at the side of his face) and nodded. "Okay, if you say so." Now, Liv shot me a fake smile. "Let me know when you're home?"
I nodded and smiled. "Yeah. Thanks again." Turning to Liv, I said: "It was nice to see you, Liv."
"Likewise, Rebecca," she replied, wrapping an arm around Mason protectively. "See you soon!"
Climbing down Mason's outside stairs, there was a bitter taste in my mouth. Had he invited Liv once Kyle and I had decided to leave? Or was she always going to show up, regardless of whether or not we were still there? The idea of Liv sitting with us, playing Fifa and munching on burgers, seemed so wrong. But, I reminded myself, this was probably how things would turn out one day. Mason had another person he needed to dedicate his time to and I needed to remember that.
My Uber arrived a couple of minutes later and I climbed in, choosing not to glance back at Mason's house. I knew I'd see a ghost of him, standing in his big window waving at me, as he used to do when I left his place. I didn't want to turn and see it empty, knowing that he was inside with Liv, all thoughts of me forgotten.