Chapter 30: Twenty Nine

For once I was excited for the busy day I had planned on Sunday.  If I were sat at home with nothing else to do but mull over how shitty my week had been, I would have ended up inconsolable.  But by the time lunchtime rolled around, I'd barely had a second to think about the disasters of the previous day.

I had an hour for lunch before I had to meet my agent again.  As I stepped out onto the street, I pulled my phone out and checked it for the first time that day.  The first thing I saw was three missed calls from Kyle.  With a sigh, I called him back.

"Jeez, nice of you to remember I exist."

Rolling my eyes, I dodged past a particularly big puddle.  "It's been a busy day.  What's up?"

A car hooted next to me, forcing me to wince and switch the phone to my other ear.  "Where are you?"

"Uh, like, Mayfair area.  Why?"

Joan, my agent, had scored me a new endorsement deal, so I'd been with the brand most of the morning sorting out paper work and taking pictures.  I heard Kyle gasp on the other end.

"No ways; I'm on Oxford Street!"

"Why?"  I laughed as a frustrated sigh sounded clear in my ear.

"Long story.  Anyway, have you eaten?"

"About to, but I only have an hour."

"Good thing I'm really close."

I resisted the urge to groan.  Based off the shifty looks Kyle gave me on the trip home yesterday, I had a feeling he wanted to try chat again.  But after successfully putting everything out of my mind all morning, I didn't want it to come up now and stick with me the rest of the day.

"I literally have a meeting in an hour," I said, glancing across the street to the restaurant I'd been recommended.

"Well, send me your location and I can be there in ten."  I sighed again, but Kyle spoke over me before I could argue any further.  "You can even order and leave if I'm still eating." When I didn't say anything, he added: "On me?"

True to his word, ten minutes after I'd sat down and five after I'd ordered, I spotted the lanky figure of Kyle enter the Mediterranean restaurant.  I waved at him, earning a nod in reply as he shook his jacket off and hung it up beside the door.  Smoothly manoeuvring through the expanse of tables and chairs, he came up beside mine. With a shake of my shoulder, he fell into the seat opposite me.

"God, I hate shopping."

I chuckled.  "Then why come to Oxford Street?"

He shot me a look and shook his head. "Well, I had a suit fitting for the gaffer's charity thing and Nat came, but then she decided she hated her dress and wanted a new one and next thing we've been there three hours."  I just laughed as he crossed his arms.  His pout made way for a surprised frown.  "You look nice, what have you been doing?"

"I'm the face of Burberry's new collection," I said with faux pompousness.

Kyle's mouth hung open.  "No ways, you? How did Joan pull that off?"

We made small talk while he studied the menu, eventually hailing a waiter to place his order.  When my food arrived and I took to shovelling forkfuls into my mouth, he lapsed into silence, too.  I knew what was coming, as did the knot in my stomach.

"So," he said, drawing the word out.  I kept my eyes on my plate.  "Spoken to Mase at all today?"

I swallowed forcibly, my unexpectedly dry mouth making it tough.  "Uh, nope." Reaching for my glass of water, I met Kyle's eyes.  He raised an eyebrow.  "Why?"

"I don't know; I think he's ignoring me."

"Well, he's been ignoring me all week." I meant for my words to be under my breath, but Kyle huffed in agreement.

"Trust me, I noticed.  Hard not to."

Placing my knife and fork pointedly on my plate, I glared across the table.  "What do you want, Kyle?"  His face morphed into an innocent confusion.  "Come on, just say whatever it is."

Tapping his fingers on the table in front of him, Kyle was mute for a moment.  My heart was racing, thoughts jumping from one instance that week to another as I wondered what Kyle was going to ask about.  Eventually, he sighed.

"Look, I've tried to talk to Mase too and he's having none of it."  His expression was hard despite how gentle his tone was.  "I'm clearly not getting anything out of him, so you need to tell me what's going on."

I shook my head, crossing my arms.  "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Jeez, Beck, give it up, okay?"  His soft tone was gone, but his expression remained. "You made it seem like things would chill out after a day or two but you guys haven't even looked at each other all week."  I widened my eyes when he didn't say anything more.  He sighed, eyes dropping to the table.  "And I saw you last night fighting and—"

"I don't want to talk about this, Kyle," I muttered, reaching for my cutlery.  At the mention of our conversation, my heart dropped.

"Well, I think you need to."  I stabbed at a piece of cucumber.  "No offence, but you don't seem okay."

"We'll get over it soon."  Even as I said the words, I didn't believe them. Judging by Kyle's inhale, he didn't, either.

"Tell me what happened," he said.  "Maybe I can help."

I stared at my plate for another second, but everything on it seemed inedible.  Leaning back in my seat, I rolled my lips into my mouth.  As I weighed up what to do, Kyle carried on speaking.

"Football aside, I'm your friend, Beck. And Mason's.  Don't you think I deserve to know what's happening?"

His reasoning may have been flawed, but it did seem like my best option to talk to him.  Taking a deep breath, I leant my elbows on the table.  I barely even knew where to start.

"Mase came to my room after his talk with Gareth," I started, speaking softly.  I kept my eyes on the spoon in front of Kyle, not able to meet his eyes. "And he started saying all this crazy stuff about Lance making fun of us and how he..."  I shook my head, my stomach doing flips.  "Whatever.  But he – or, I don't know, I guess both of us? – got a bit carried away.  And there was this moment."

"You guys hooked up?"

Alarmed, I looked at Kyle and shook my head. "No!  No, I told him it couldn't happen and then he left.  George spoke to us the next morning and told us this stupid story about how these Everton players dated and broke up and their team went to shit and—"  I caught myself rambling and stopped.  My cheeks were on fire, my hands shaking as I rested them in front of me.  "Anyway, point is Mase has been ignoring me since then – as you've seen – but then he just rocked up in my room before the game yesterday and we had a fight, I guess."

"What about?"  Kyle's voice was quiet.  I'd been avoiding looking at him, but now I glanced up to see his reaction. Surprisingly straight-faced, it was hard to gauge what he was thinking.

I waved a hand in the air.  "I don't even really know.  He thought we were chilled so I crapped on him for ignoring me and it was just weird."  I frowned, trying to ignore the emotion rising in my chest.  "And then the game..."

At the crack in my voice, I sat back in my chair again.  Bringing a hand up to my mouth, I ran my fingers over my bottom lip.  Whatever I'd been suppressing all morning was rapidly creeping up on me; I needed a moment to compose myself.  Kyle, obviously sensing this, spoke.

"And afterwards, what, it just came out again?"

I lifted a shoulder and met Kyle's eyes. For the first time he was showing some kind of emotion: his eyebrows were tilted in pity, his eyes understanding. "I guess, yeah.  He tried to apologise but he ended up just being all defensive and... it just didn't end well."

He lifted a hand to scratch his forehead. "Fucking Mason.  Why would he do this now, of all times?"

Surprise drew my eyebrows down.  "What do you mean?"

"Nothing."  He quickly lowered his hand.  "I had no idea this was going on, Beck, I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry?"

"I mean, MP and I gave you two so much stick on international.  Guess, in a way, we might have put the idea in his head a bit?"

I shook my head.  "It's not your fault.  I might have given him some reasons, too."  Admitting that for the first time, my heart clenched.  Quickly, though, I pushed the feeling away.  "I still don't get it, though.  What about Liv?"

It was Kyle's turn to shrug.  "Maybe they're in a bad place?  He did say they had a fight before international."

Nodding, I popped an olive into my mouth. I thought back to when Mason arrived outside my house, the awkward interaction between him and Liv.  My instincts might have known than that something was off between them, but I only processed it now.

"Whatever, it's none of my business." With a sigh, I pushed wilted lettuce around my plate.  "I just don't know why he's been such a dick all week."

"Isn't it obvious?"  My eyes shot up to Kyle, who chuckled.  "Come on, Beck, he's embarrassed.  You guys were super close.  He made a move and you turned him down.  How would you feel if you were rejected and then had to be around that person all the time?  Probably pretty shitty."

My stomach sank with realisation.  Had I been unfair on Mason this week?  Instead of sulking about my lack of attention, should I have been making sure he was okay?

No, I instantly corrected myself.  I wasn't in the wrong here: Mason started this, what did I care if he was paying for his actions?

"Yeah, of course," I mumbled.  "Still doesn't give him the right to be a dick."

"No, you're right, he's a piece of shit." I mirrored Kyle's grin, even letting a chuckle escape my mouth.

We lapsed into silence.  I attempted a final bite of my lunch, but decided I was done with it.  Kyle took a long swig of his water, staring out of the window over the bustling Mayfair street below us.  It was raining again, a steady drizzle turning the tar darker, the window blurrier.

"What do I do, Kyle?" I asked, returning my gaze to him.  "I just... Yesterday's game was so bad, and it feels like it was our fault."  Kyle tried to interrupt, but I spoke over him.  "You have no idea how all over the place my head was.  And Mason's, too; anyone could tell.  Nothing even happened and we wrecked the team."

"Beck, that's bullshit."  Kyle's glare was making my cheeks heat up.  "Everyone was trash yesterday, yeah?  Maybe you weren't your best because of Mason, but everyone had a bad game."

"Still, I can't have that again.  Not with Ajax and Spurs this week, God."  I ran a hand across my face slowly, my cold fingers cooling my burning cheeks.

"Look, it seems like Mason doesn't really deserve it, but maybe you just have to be the bigger person here?"  He raised his eyebrows as I groaned.  "I'm not saying forgive and forget, but just stop with the hostility, yeah?"  I nodded. "Not just for your sake, either. You know how awkward it was choosing between gyming with you or doing free kicks with Mase?"

I breathed out a laugh, possibly in relief that Kyle had taken this all so well.  Part of the reason I'd been so hesitant to tell him was because I'd expected him to overreact and freak out; this composed Kyle who offered good advice was not what I anticipated.

"I think you're right."

Before I could say anything more, our waiter appeared.  I waited until he'd cleared my plate and given a smiling Kyle his lamb before I spoke again.

"Hey, thanks, Kyle."  Kyle looked up, a forkful already halfway to his mouth. "I'm glad you forced me to have lunch with you."

He rolled his eyes, lowering his fork. "Yeah, yeah, whatever."  I smiled.  "Now, enough about Mitch.  You got a dress for Frank's thing yet?"