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.
"Hey, Beck."
His voice was nervous and his body language gave away how uneasy he felt. Since that morning he had changed his clothes, but his eyes were still red and tired, and dark rings had appeared under his eyes.
"What happened to not being able to train?" I couldn't hold back the sullenness in my tone, but a pang of guilt hit me as Mason sighed and fell back against the bench opposite me.
"I don't know; I guess you made me feel too shit about not coming."
Pride â at both myself and Mason â overshadowed the fury I felt. I raised my eyebrows in shock and leant forwards, intrigued at his change of heart. "Yeah?" He nodded and shrugged. "What were you chatting to Frank about?"
"Uh, I kind of told him what happened."
This shocked me even more: Mason wasn't the first one in the team to have a big night before training, but I'd never heard of anyone owning up to it to the gaffer. Mostly they just had a bad session and took some headache pills at lunch while they laughed about it with the team. When I imagined Mason potentially coming in after all, I had been expecting the same thing.
"Seriously? Why?"
"Because I fucked up." He let out a grim chuckle. "And I felt like the gaffer needed to know."
We stared at each other in silence. Thoughts were flying through my head, with questions popping up that I was desperate to know the answers too. It explained why Frank was seething outside, definitely, but I wondered what he had said, how he had reacted.
"And?" It was just about all I could muster up.
"And he assured me I won't be starting on Wednesday," he mumbled with a sigh. "Which is fair, I guess. And he fined me for being late. And said I still have to train even if I feel like absolute shit. Which I definitely do."
I nodded slowly, taking it in. I couldn't help the pity I felt for Mase, even though I wanted to feel none. "Was he really angry?"
"A bit." He shifted his position to cross his arms over his chest. "He said he was disappointed in me for going out, but he was impressed that I told him."
Again, I nodded. Then, abruptly, I stood up. There was still tension in the air between us that I wasn't in the mood to be feeling. A lot of the rage I'd felt towards Mason just five minutes earlier faded, overtaken by surprise and approval, but I was still a bit pissed off with him. And, plus, I needed to get out to training.
"Well, I'll see you out there."
"Beck wait."
I stood by the door, about to pull it open, but Mason moved quickly to stand in front of me. His hand had reached out to grab my arm, which was extended towards the door, but I pulled it back quickly, alarmed at the heat his touch produced. Awkwardly, he stared at me for a beat.
"I'm really... I appreciate everything, you know," he said gently. "For letting me crash last night and looking after me, especially after... yeah. And for trying to talk some sense into me this morning."
I swallowed, suddenly nervous. "Yeah, well," I said meagrely.
He stepped forward and pulled me into a tight hug, taking me by surprise yet again. I had barely processed the action when my arms, on impulse, embraced him back.
"Seriously, I'm really grateful." His voice was croaky, I realised for the first time. "I owe you big time."
"You don't owe me, Mase," I practically whispered back. Pulling away, I shook off the sudden emotion I was feeling. "And I'm..." I wanted to throw those words back at him from last night,but I couldn't bring myself to. "I'm proud of you for coming in."
He nodded and swallowed, obviously ruffled, too. Another moment passed where we just stared at each other.
"Well, go on," he eventually said, a grin breaking out onto his face. "Frank will be waiting."
"See you out there?" Mason nodded, and I left the changing room with a smile.
It was strange how I felt something so strongly and then had it all but disappear when I saw Mason. It seemed like every time I was mad with him, or he'd made me upset, and I saw him, it fizzled out and I almost felt silly for ever feeling like that. I was starting to accept that maybe I couldn't stay mad with Mason; that it was just the effect he had on me.
Back out on the pitch, the team had started their drill. Jody waved me over to explain it, her stern expression making me regret talking to Mason for so long, and I joined in as best I could. A couple of minutes later, I saw Mason run onto the pitch and, as per a wave from Frank, do some (slow) laps. A nudge from Fran and a teasing, "now she's in a good mood", from Olly weren't enough to wipe the small grin off my face.
It grew again at the end of the day. While the team headed inside to escape the rainfall, I spotted Mason on the far side of the pitch. As slow and lethargic as he'd been in training all day, there he was, a bag of balls next to him as he lined up a free kick. I stopped to watch, allowing Spencer and Abby to pull away. The first one he took hit the back of he net, but it was nowhere near his usual quality. The second he shanked and it flew wide. The third hit the crossbar. Mason, hands on hip, looked down at the ground.
I took that as my cue to leave, following after my teammates. My rage from earlier seemed even more foolish now: whatever was going on with him, he was still Mason, and this just proved. He'd work it out, I knew. We'd work it out.