Chapter 31: Thirty

My phone was ringing.

I was in the middle of a much-needed deep sleep when I woke up to the blaring of my ring tone. I cursed myself for forgetting to put it on silent, especially when I cracked an eye open to glance at my too bright screen and saw an unknown number flashing across it. I was so tempted to ignore it and go back to sleep, but with a groan I accepted the call.

"Hello?" I croaked, my voice groggy with sleep.

I could hear brash techno music on the other end, which instantly made me think the call was a mistake. I shut my eyes and repeated the greeting, louder this time.

"Rebecca? Beck, is that you?" a voice replied on the other end, shrill and panicky. It was also the last person I expected to be calling me in the middle of the night.

"Liv?" My half-asleep brain was unable to hide the confusion in my tone. "What's going on?"

"Look, I'm sorry for calling you like this, I know it's late," she rattled on, her pitch getting higher and higher. "But, um, have you heard from Mase tonight? Or, like, know where he is?"

My heart was banging in my chest with sudden dread. At the mention of Mason's name I'd woken up properly. Sitting up straight, I squeezed my eyes shut.

"No, why would I? What happened?"

"It's probably no big deal, you know—"

"Liv, what happened?" Frustration was growing in my chest, as was panic. "Where are you?"

Her next words came out in a rush and I took a beat to fully process them. "We came to this event together and he got pretty drunk and then he just disappeared. And, like, I wouldn't worry normally, but I have his house keys and his wallet and he's not answering his phone and I just don't know where he is."

Shutting my eyes again, I rubbed the space between my eyebrows. Was this a dream? I wanted to scream at Liv for taking Mason out the day before training – three days before a Champions League game – but I pushed aside my anger.

"Okay," I said slowly. "Why are you calling me about this?"

The music that had been blaring through the phone quietened, making me think Liv had stepped outside. She sighed.

"He just said you guys had a fight and he was pretty upset about it." Unexpected warmth hit me at her words, overshadowing the alarm for a second. "I don't know, I thought he might have called you or something."

"No, he hasn't." Liv swore on the other end of the line. "I'll try give him a call, but I doubt he'll pick up."

"Wouldn't write it off so quickly." Her voice turned bitter, making me regret offering to help, but she carried on without a pause. "He's probably just gone home, but thanks anyway."

"Why don't you go and check?" I couldn't hold back the scorn in my voice.

Silence sounded. "Um, well, I can't really leave." Supressing frustration, I was about to rip into her, but she continued. "I know what you must think, but this is just what I do, okay?"

"Okay, I'll call him."

I told her I'd let her know, choosing to ignore her last comments. After hanging up, I stared at my phone for a long moment as I thought of my options. I could have just told Liv to sort it out herself, but the thought of Mason being in any kind of trouble left me with a bitter taste in my mouth. And even though I didn't know if I could do anything, I knew I couldn't live with myself if I didn't at least try. Liv was right in saying he was probably just going home; he'd likely get there, realise he didn't have his keys, and go back to wherever the hell Liv was. Some satisfaction came from imagining him blaming this all on his girlfriend.

I eventually found his contact, though, and with a pounding heart, pressed the phone to my ear. It rang for a few seconds. My pulse was echoing in my ears. I swallowed, my mouth dry.

"Hello?"

The relief that washed over my chest took me by surprise. "Mason? Are you okay?"

"Hart?" My heart continued thumping. A groan sounded on the other end, followed by a deep sigh. "What's going on?"

"Could ask you the same thing." I cleared my throat. "Where are you? Are you okay?"

"Um, yeah." His voice was throaty, detached. "Swell."

"Where are you?" Just because he'd answered the phone, didn't mean he was fine. "Mason? You there?"

"Yeah, I'm here." He cleared his throat. "I'm in a taxi."

"Where, Mase?"

A pause. "What? Why are you calling?"

I exhaled through my nose, shutting my eyes for a second. "Are you going home?" He murmured in agreement, making me perk up in a heartbeat. "Okay, okay, that's good. But Liv has your keys, you know that, right?"

A pause. "Fuck." Taken aback, I didn't reply. "How do you—Did she call you?"

"Yeah, she did." He swore again. Growing concerned, I fiddled with the ends of my hair, twirling them around the fingers of my free hand. "Look, can you go back? To where Liv is?"

"No." There was a surprising amount of strength to his voice compared to a minute ago. "No, I can't go back there."

I wanted to ask, but there was no point on dwelling on that now. Thinking over all my options, I closed my eyes. God, how did I get involved in this? If Kyle lived in the city I would have called him up and made this his problem instead of mine.

Callum. Sitting up straighter, I wracked my brain for a memory of Mason mentioning where his best mate lived. Was it Battersea? I could have made that up. Lost in my thoughts, I hadn't even noticed Mason was speaking until I heard my name.

"Beck?" He said it quietly. "Are you there?"

"You can't go home with no way of getting inside," I said, frustration getting the best of me. All he did was sigh. Callum seemed my only bet. "Where does Callum live?"

"Stratford," he mumbled, almost indistinguishable.

I slapped a hand to my forehead. That was too far away. I knew what I had to offer, but it was the last thing I felt like having to deal with tonight.

"I'm sorry, Beck." Mason's voice was hoarse again, his words slurring together. "She shouldn't have called you."

I stayed silent. Kyle's comment about Liv and Mase being in a bad place seemed more and more truthful, especially given Mason's tone. "She said she called you." Another sigh from Mason. I didn't know where the need came from, but I felt like I had to push him, just for a minute. "Why didn't you pick up her calls?"

"Uh." The sound of a hooter going off on the other end didn't even make me flinch; I was so curious to hear his next words. "I don't know. It doesn't matter."

"It does matter." Disappointed with his reply, I kept pushing. "You can't get into your house, Mason. What are you planning to do if your girlfriend has the keys and you won't speak to her?"

So much for stopping the hostility, I thought bitterly. I imagined Mason was shocked to silence, because he said nothing in reply. Or maybe he was realising how stupid this situation was. Either way, I knew what I had to do.

"Look, just come to my place, okay?" No matter how frustrated I was, there was no way I could leave Mason alone right now. Knowing how stubborn he was, he would probably sit outside his house rather than sort this out with Liv. "You can stay here."

"Beck, you don't have to do this." His words were more garbled than they when we started the conversation.

"Seems like there's no other choice," I murmured, twirling my hair again.

"I'm sorry." My heart twisted at the surprising distress in his voice. "I'm sorry, Hart."

"Just tell me when you're here, yeah?" Swallowing back emotion, I leant back against my pillows. "Mase?"

He murmured something inarticulate, but it sounded like an agreement. Frowning, I listened as he kept repeated the words. I'd been mistaken; he was thanking me. My heart panged for a second, but I shook it off just as quickly.

After saying goodbye, I shut my eyes for a while. Rethinking our conversation, realisation dawned on what I'd just offered Mason. Sure, him coming to stay wasn't the biggest deal. But with everything else going on behind the scenes, coming to his rescue after he'd obviously fought with his girlfriend left me feeling weird. Plus, did he even deserve my help after what had gone on the last week?

He'd do it for you, I scolded myself. And even in the midst of our conflict, it wasn't as if I stopped caring about him all together.

With a sigh, I called Liv back. She at least deserved to know that her boyfriend would have a roof over his head for the night.

"Rebecca? Did you find him?" Her voice was high-pitched when she picked up.

"Yeah, he's fine."

"Is he coming back?" Was that... desperation in her tone?

"Um, no." I trailed off, cringing at the news I had to relay. "He's coming here. I told him he could stay the night."

Based on the silence that answered, I could tell Liv was unhappy. What else had she expected me to do? If her goal was for me to talk her boyfriend into answering her calls, there had to be some kind of strain in their relationship.

"Oh. Okay." Rolling my eyes at her reply, I bit down on my lip. "Uh, didn't he want to come back and fetch his keys?"

A stab of sympathy for Liv hit me. No matter my opinion of her, hearing the expectation in her voice was pitiful. I could either break the news to her that no, Mason had no intention of seeing her for the rest of the night, or I could play it down and save her some misery. I wanted to do the former, but the idea didn't sit right with me.

"He sounded really out of it," I said slowly. "It just didn't seem like a good idea."

"I see." She cleared her throat. "You know, Mase is lucky to have a friend like you." The obnoxious comment threw me off, as did the accompanying sting that her words brought about. "I don't know how many people I'd do this for."

Now, I regretted deciding to spare her feelings. "Well, maybe that says more about you than me."

With a smug grin, I heard nothing but silence again. Wondering if had hung up, I was about to end the call. But she piped up once more.

"I was just saying you must really care about him." I blinked at the surprising lack of animosity in her tone. "So, like, thanks."

I hung up a moment later. Leaning back, I tried to prepare myself for Mason's arrival. The thought of seeing him after our last interaction already made my stomach turn. On top of that, I had no idea what kind of state he would be in. I'd seen him drunk a couple of times before: after the team's Europa League win the previous season, at the Christmas party the year before that. Somehow, this seemed different to those occasions.

Shutting my eyes, I let out the breath I was holding slowly, trying not the let my imagination get the best of me. There was no point in getting even more worked up about this. What was done was done; I'd have to accept whatever came with it.

***

I was pulled from a sleep I didn't realised I'd fallen into by my phone going off once more. The time caught my sight: just past half two, only fifteen minutes after I'd said bye to Liv. It felt like I'd been asleep for hours again. Shaking my drowsiness off, I answered Mason's incoming call.

"Are you here?" All that I heard in reply was a grunt. Assuming it as confirmation, I clambered out of bed. "Be there in a minute."

I turned on my light and then scrambled to pull on a pair of sneakers. My heart was racing again, the adrenalin rush from being dragged from sleep for the second time that night driving it. With shaky hands, I tugged on a jacket before I headed downstairs.

My breath clouded around me as I pushed open the door downstairs. A car was stopped in the street in front of me. As I started to descend the steps onto the pavement, the passenger door was pushed open. Heart in my mouth, I saw a figure inside. Legs landed on the pavement at the same time mine did, and a moment later a wobbly Mason emerged from the backseat, hanging onto the car door to steady himself.

Relief turned my head light at the sight of him. He fall against the door and his dazed eyes roamed the pavement in front of him. When they finally lifted and settled on me – as much as they could, at least – clarity crossed his face before it morphed into a frown.

"Beck," he murmured, pushing himself up from the door. "Beck, hey, I—"

He cut off as I reached him and laid a hand over his. For a second I didn't know what to say. When his other hand came down hard on my shoulder, though, I came to my senses once more.

"Uh, come on, let's get you inside."

Moving forward, I manoeuvred myself in between his body and the car door. His arm came down around my shoulders and a beat later his body fell against mine. Hoisting him up, I called a thank you to the driver before stepping closer to my building. Sticking out a foot behind me, I heard the car door close and the taxi start up again with satisfaction. Mason was practically dead weight in my arms. Staring up at the stairs, I let out a huff of air. Not for the first time tonight, I wondered how I'd gotten myself into this mess.

Mason was murmuring something incomprehensible when we started up the stairs. I took them slowly, one at a time, gripping onto the stone balusters lining the stairs as we climbed. Without trying to understand his words, I made noises of agreement, hoping he would quieten down. By the time I had practically dragged him upstairs to my apartment, my weariness was growing fast.

Stumbling inside, I cursed as my hip caught the corner of my entranceway table. With a deep sigh, I hauled Mason further inside and fell back against my couch, bringing Mase down with me. He let out a long breath, too. With my arm pinned against the couch behind Mason's body, I was trapped for the minute. Shutting my eyes, I decided to just give myself a breather.

"Thank you, Beck," Mason grumbled out of nowhere.

The arm that was still slung over my shoulder stiffened and began to pull me closer. Momentarily panicked, my eyes shot open and my body froze. He gathered me against his side, his other arm wrapping around me in a sloppy but clearly well intentioned embrace. My stomach did a flip as his head came to a rest on top of mine.

It took me a few seconds more, but eventually my body relaxed. I melted into Mason, his drunken affection getting the best of me. Shutting my eyes, I laid my free hand over his chest. With his steady heart beat sounding in my ear and drumming under my palm, it felt as if I could fall asleep right then and there.

Tenderness washed over me, the feeling more familiar than I would have liked. No matter how many dumb things he'd done over the past week, I became aware of how much I still cared about him. The thought might have made me angry a couple of days ago, but I was starting to accept it. Mason squeezed me as the thought crossed my mind.

"I'm glad you're here, Hart."

He whispered them deliberately, as if he was aware of the dribble he'd spoken on the stairs and really wanted to get those words across, those same words he'd so earnestly said to me at St George's, and the ones I'd repeated back to him in the Czech Republic. My heart ached for a second as I replayed that night in my head, everything else fading from my memory.

But just as quickly, reality hit me. Lying against him like this, hearing those words, had eclipsed the hurt and irritation and desperateness I'd felt about Mason for the last while. With that came the realisation of the situation we were in: this intimate moment I thought we were having was happening because he'd gotten stupidly drunk on a Sunday night, not because of anything else.

My stomach clenched as I came back to my senses. I pushed myself off him, his arms falling away with ease. Standing up, I took a couple of deep breaths to fight away the tears I could feel in the back of my throat. As I did, I took in Mason's figure on the couch beneath me. I couldn't just leave him there.

"Mason." I cleared my throat to get rid of the crack in my voice. "Come on, get up."

He opened his eyes, blinking them repeatedly. I held out a hand, which he took hold of with surprising strength. When I pulled him up, he stumbled like he had outside, but steadied himself on the arm of my couch. I tried to help him, but to my surprise he waved me off.

"I'm fine, I'm fine."

Shaking my head, I shrugged. He took off, zigzagging across the room towards the passage. I retreated into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water before I followed after him. In my spare room, Mason had collapsed onto the middle of the bed, his arms spread wide across the duvet. Another wave of affection hit me, forcing me to a stop in the doorway. My shadow, cast over the bed from the hallway light behind me, obscured his face, but I was sure his eyes would be closed once again.

I placed the water on the bedside table, a yawn escaping my mouth. Sleep was calling out to me, and I was desperate to fall back into bed myself, but worry stopped me from leaving Mason just yet. He still had his shoes on, and even though my heating was turned right up, I didn't want him getting cold. Letting care drive my actions, I stood at the base of the bed. After undoing the laces of his obnoxious sneakers and pulling them off, I went in search of a blanket.

With my fluffiest blanket laid over him, I was finally satisfied. Taking one last look at Mason (and trying to ignore the flutter of butterflies in my stomach), I returned to my room. As I climbed into bed properly, I felt sure that my anger at Mason would return in the morning. For now, though, I was content to drift off into sleep with warmth in my stomach.