Chapter 24: Twenty Three

I didn't realise at the time how ambitious my hope had been. From dinner that night, I could sense there was some hostility in the team. I hated that it all came from an accident that happened to involve me, but there was nothing I could do now except for try and play it down. I waved away concerned teammates when they came up to me, insisting that I was A-Okay. When Abby came to me and tried to complain about Lance doing it intentionally, I shut her down as quickly as I could, reinforcing that it was just an accident.

But there was still tension, especially when it came to Mason. I sat across from him at dinner and every time I looked up, he was glaring across the room towards Lance. Lance wasn't making things any better, either. I had thought after our chat that he'd tone down on his, well, Lance-ness, but that wasn't the case. He seemed to be trying to rile up Mason more than usual. The first offence came when we were dishing up dinner: Lance cut Mason off in the line for cutlery.

Not a big deal and certainly forgivable, but then came training the following morning.

With our one game left for this break against Bulgaria, the plan was to train the morning before the game and then fly across in the afternoon. We'd have most of the morning free before the game, bar a quick run around on the pitch several hours before kick-off.

Sessions the day before games were always pretty chilled, and this one was no exception. Gareth had us warm up, do some passing and then go into mini-games. The strikers went off to do shooting drills with the keepers, so the games were small, possession-based games. I'd been trying to ignore the slight throbbing that remained in my head, but when Mason and my team rotated to play against Lance's team, I sensed that it was about to increase.

Lance made bad challenge after bad challenge on Mason, even though the game had absolutely no call for them. I tried to calm Mason down with comforting touches on the arm, or by making eye contact and shaking my head, but his body language and the way he was playing gave away how worked up he was getting.

Training finished, and before I knew it we were on the way to the airport. To avoid taunts, I sat with Abby and Sophie North on the bus, and I would have done the same on the plane had Mason not practically dragged me down into the seat next to him.

Travelling with Mason was something I always enjoyed. It was so easy to sit and talk to him through long trips, but equally as easy to listen to music together and stay silent, or even just to sit doing our own things in each other's company. Whatever it was, being next to Mason on trips always calmed me down.

Now, though, I felt anxious from being next to Mason. I didn't want to give Lance any extra reasons to target Mason and since I now knew a lot of the reason Lance picked on him was because of me, I had tried to avoid spending too much time with him outside of training. Sure enough, Lance boarded the plane with the last few players and spotted us. He snorted and rolled his eyes, but luckily didn't say anything. Mason was tense next to me, so I nudged him in the side and told him to forget about it.

I don't know what Lance said to Mason to eventually set him off, but it must have been bad. It was later that night, at dinner in the hotel. I was sitting with Kyle, Marcus and Walt, my head finally pain-free and my body feeling strong. Mason was late to the meal, which was unlike him, but when he did walk in, I wished he'd just remained wherever he'd been. He wandered in, his face set in a frown. For a moment I wondered why, but when I saw Lance come in after him, I realised the reason. I could see Lance's mouth moving, but couldn't hear exactly what he was saying over the noise from the rest of the team.

Lance spoke; Mason spun around. Mason pushed him once – hard – backwards, only for Lance to square up more. He said something else, the sound of his voice carrying across the hall but his words indistinguishable. Mason was waving a finger in his face threateningly. I stood up, the noise in the room dropping as more people saw the pair. Lance was leering, clearly goading Mason.

It happened in a flash. Lance spoke once more, and then Mason had him pinned against the wall, his hand gripping onto his jaw.

The room went silent. I started moving forwards with Kyle rushing towards them in front of me. A loud, scornful laugh from Lance echoed across the room as he shoved Mason's arm away from him. Mason snapped, and before I could process what had happened, he had swung towards Lance and connected with the side of his jaw.

George happened to be closest to the pair and he lunged forwards to pull Mason away. I'd never seen Mase so angry, and it became clearer as I moved closer; he was shouting, his words coming so strong and fast they were basically inarticulate. Lance was still chuckling as George and now Ben Cahill and Zach Smith were pulling Mason away.

Hands to his jaw, it was as if Lance had gotten what he wanted. Kyle sprinted ahead of me and was shouting at Lance. He shoved him back, his voice still raised but somehow drowned out by the sound of an uncommonly loud Gareth, who had appeared in the entrance way.

"What the hell is going on here?"

Jolted back to reality, I fully processed what Mason had just done. Sick to my stomach, I surveyed the scene, Gareth and Lance and Mason's words not registering in my head. Ben and Zach had stepped away from Mason and Ben was now pulling Kyle away from Lance. George still had his hands on Mason's shoulders. Bella Rushmore was at Lance's side, examining his jaw.

Mason... it was clear his anger was trickling away. Realisation dawned on his face as he looked to a fuming Gareth. His left cradled his right hand, his cheeks almost as red as his knuckles were. Gobsmacked, I could only watch Gareth point to the door and the trio disappear.

Silence hung over the room after their departure. No one moved; no one spoke for a while. Numbness was creeping up my spine. I barely felt Abby's hand on my shoulder, barely heard Kyle and Marcus mumbling beside me. Eventually, with nothing else to do, I left out of the same doors that Gareth had lead Mason and Lance out of, understanding slowly turning my blood cold.

One thought kept replaying through my head as I walked upstairs back to me and Abby's room. No matter how much I tried to deny it to myself, it kept coming back: was that fight because of me?

***

I wanted desperately to know what had happened with Mason and Gareth. Back in my room, I'd sat and impatiently scrolled through my phone. Abby had gone to watch a movie with Sophie and Hannah, but I'd refused her offer and instead chosen to just be stressed in my room.

What felt like hours after I'd watched Mase leave the dinning hall, there was a small knock on my door. My heart leapt as I jumped up from my bed, eager to see Mason, who I assumed was on the other side of the door. Sure enough, I pulled it open to see an equally stressed-looking Mason. He shook his head and entered my room, pacing around with his arms crossed.

"Well?" It was timid; I didn't want to push him into telling me what happened, but at the same time I was so anxious to know.

Mason sighed and stopped pacing long enough to meet my eyes. "Well, it could have been worse, I guess."

His answer took me by surprise. I was imagining him waltzing in and telling me that he had to pack his bags for starting a fight and that he'd never play for England again. That would have been the worse case scenario, so for him to say that it could have been worse left me hopeful.

"So you're not getting booted out?" I asked, only halfway jokingly. Mason grinned at me briefly, but it was gone before it could properly reach his eyes.

With a sigh, he lowered himself onto the edge of my bed, keeping his hands on his knees. "I'm not getting sent home."

"That's a good start." My words were feeble as I went to sit next to Mason, my one leg up on the bed so I could face him. He nodded, but bit his lip.

"Gareth was pretty upset, obviously. He said he's never had two squad members starting a fight like that before." He met my eyes and shrugged half-heartedly as he shifted his position to mirror mine. "Neither of us are playing tomorrow."

"I'm sorry."  I reached out and laid a consoling hand on his knee. I did feel sympathetic for him; sure, he'd been the one to lash out and technically 'start the fight', but with everything going on behind the scenes, I knew that this had been coming Lance's way for a long time. And that it was his fault for it. "Did you tell Gareth everything that's been happening?"

"Tried to." He sighed and begun playing with my hair tie again, a recent habit of his that I was loving. Little jolts ran up my arm from where his fingers brushed my wrist. "But Lance was there, so it was a little hard to call him out when he could just defend himself."

Seeming to catch himself in the act, Mason pulled his hand away and instead ran it through his hair. I retracted my hand at the same time, and entwined my fingers in my lap.

"How did he defend himself?" He hadn't really admitted to bullying me the other day in the infirmary, but he hadn't exactly defended himself when I'd brought it up, either. So I wondered what he could have said to Mason and Gareth that would make them think otherwise.

"Said he didn't have it out for anyone, that was stupid, and we were just claiming this because we're young and don't understand anything about respecting senior players." He rolled his eyes and I let out an angry huff. "Bullshit stuff, basically."

"Don't even know why I'm surprised."

"Yeah, me neither."

We sat in silence for a moment. I was still worked up about it all, but something about the stillness of Mason made me think he wasn't feeling as angry anymore. Regarding him, it seemed as if he were lost in thought, not necessarily about this Lance situation. It made me think about the fight again. What was it that Lance could have said to make Mason that angry? I couldn't think of many things.

Except maybe something about me.

"Can I–" I cut of as Mason's eyes darted back to me, focused once more. "I mean, you don't have to tell me, but what did Lance say?" His jaw stiffened and he looked away again, instantly making me regret asking. "It's okay, you don't... Sorry, you don't have to tell me."

The pause that followed felt too long and much too awkward.

"It doesn't matter what he said," Mason eventually mumbled. "It wasn't even what he said that made me so mad. Well, not really, anyway."

I wanted to probe him more, ask him all the questions I had, but I held back, not wanting to hassle him. Part of me knew that he would tell me the important parts if he thought I should know them.

"It's just..." he trailed off, and suddenly he was standing up, pacing around the room again. "Do you ever think of why his comments make you so upset?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, other teammates tease me about shit all the time. Every time I see Zach he tunes me about the shot I missed in the Spurs game last year. Walt complains about my haircut just about all the time. Even Lucy tunes me about stuff every time we train."

I listened curiously, unsure of where his rant was going. He'd been waving his hands around while he talked, but now his shoulders slumped. He stopped pacing, too, but still wasn't looking at me.

"But whenever Randall is giving me shit, it's about... you." Now he did look at me, and the vulnerability in his eyes made my heart beat faster. He was looking away again in a flash, though, and pacing once more. "And, like, I don't really care when Zach tells me how bad my shot is or when Lucy says I have a shit tackle, because, whatever. It just doesn't bother me. Because I know I can hit a football well and I can tackle well, you know?" He paused to look at me and, rattled, I just nodded at him to continue with his monologue. "But when Lance gives me shit for hanging out with you or makes those stupid comments about... you know." I could feel my cheeks heating up and imagined Mase was feeling just as flustered, because he was looking anywhere but at me. "I get really pissed off. And so, yeah, I had to think why."

He stopped speaking, instead biting his lip as he circled my room. I was starting to get nervous, his movements putting me more on edge. Standing up, I reached out the next time he came near me. As soon as my hand touched his arm, Mason stopped pacing. He looked down at me, that same vulnerability in his eyes back. He swallowed. I was panicky and couldn't help the feeling that something big was about to happen.

"What are you trying to say?" I asked softly. Again, I was worried about prying, but intense curiosity overshadowed any reservations I had.

"I'm trying to say that I get upset because it's true." My stomach lurched as his words, and the alarm I felt was reflected back at me from Mason's face. "I mean, I just... I get upset because he's right. I do treat you differently; not like I should treat my teammate."

I felt my hand slip from his arm, in nothing more than shock, and as his hand reached out to grab my withdrawing arm, a rush flashed through my body. I could feel my heart beating in my chest; I was so aware of it that I was sure Mason heard it too. Or felt it, somehow. His gaze was intense, making me want to shy away and lean towards it at the same time.

"I get angry with him because he sees through it all, somehow. I mean, others in the squad might think or suspect something or whatever, but he's the only one who actually calls me out on it."

I could do nothing but blink up at him. This was the last way I expected the night to go – this sudden confession from Mason. Things were flying through my head that I wanted to say, but I wanted more to just keep listening. Mason's eyes were frazzled, his gaze moving from my one eye to the other.

"What do you mean, Mase?"

My voice was practically a whisper. Mason was closer than I remembered, and my hands were on his chest. His one hand was still gripping onto my arm, but now his other one was wrapping around my waist. I somehow knew what was going to happen, and yet something still made me think I was wrong. Maybe I hoped I was wrong, for the sake of my sanity.

"You know what I mean, Beck," he whispered back.

He was leaning forwards; I was trying to wrap my head around what was happening. Holy shit, this was going to happen. My head was spinning, my pulse racing, my knees shaking. We were on England camp; this shouldn't be happening now. Abby could come back any second. What if someone else came into the room? What about Mason and his girlfriend?

But it was Mason, and he was looking down at me intently, his arm drawing me closer. I wanted this, had wanted it for ages even if I'd never admitted it, and it was about to happen. He was so close, his breath warm on my lips. My gaze flickered down to them, so tempting.

But I couldn't.

I stepped back hastily, my legs weak. My mouth was dry, my head light. Mason was looking dumbfounded at me, his lips parted in confusion. Shaken, I cleared my throat and looked away, unable to meet his hurt eyes anymore.

"This can't happen, Mason," I murmured. "I'm sorry."

He cleared his throat, too, awkwardly. "No, it's - flip, Beck, I'm sorry." Now I did look up. Mason was looking alarmed, his eyes wide as he lifted his hands to the side of his head. "I don't know what I was thinking."

Without saying anything more, he headed for the door and exited my room. I felt sick to my stomach, overwhelmed with several emotions: guilt for pushing Mason away, shame that I'd let the situation get so far, alarm that something had come so close to happening.

Regret that I didn't just go for it.

I collapsed back on my bed, my heart still racing. I covered my face with my hands, overcome with everything going through my head. Part of me wanted to race after Mason and redo the whole conversation; part of me wanted to forget this night had ever happened.