Chapter 34: Thirty Three

Amsterdam was rainy and cold from when we touched down on Tuesday evening until Wednesday afternoon.  Annika had been making plans all week for the small amount of free time we had while in the city.  After our training session at the stadium and before we met for dinner, we had a precious few of hours that she'd talked us into using for exploring the surroundings of our hotel.  When we got back to the hotel, though, those plans were quickly disregarded.  Well, for everyone except Kyle, who'd jumped on the bandwagon as soon as Annika brought it up.

"Come on, guys, it's barely raining anymore."

We were practically at the hotel by then, and the incessant rain that had been falling since we left the stadium had reduced to a light sprinkle.  Still, though, the idea of wandering around outside in any kind of drizzle sent a shiver down my spine, especially after the run around in the rain we'd just had.

"Sorry, Ann, I'm freezing," I said, shaking my head.

"Yeah, there's no way," Fran agreed quickly. "Sorry."

Annika, now pouting, huffed and looked to Olly and Mason with wide eyes.  "Mase? Olly?"

Somehow, the Dane managed to twist Olly's arm into going with, but wasn't able to convince Mason. Pulling up outside the hotel, Fran came up with an alternative activity for us.

"Want to watch a movie, Beck?" she asked as we climbed out of the bus.  "Please say yes, or else I'm just going to sleep."

"I could watch a movie."  Nodding, I landed next to Fran.

She glanced over my head at Mason. "Mitch, you want to join?"

My stomach twisted at her question.  As okay as things seemed to be with Mason, I was apprehensive about spending one-on-one time with him at the moment.  We hadn't had a conversation by ourselves since Monday in the changing rooms and I was trying my best to keep it that way. There was a weird energy between us, and being around him even with a group unnerved me.  Knowing Fran would be with us didn't even comfort me.

"Yeah, love to."

Repressing dread, I gathered my bag as it was unloaded and followed Fran inside.  Annika pestered us all the way up to our room before finally accepting defeat and bidding us farewell in the corridor.

"God, she's so persistent," Fran laughed as she collapsed onto the bed closest to the door.

"Mm."  I followed suit and fell onto my ascribed bed. Shutting my eyes, I was tempted to suggest that we just have a sleep after all.

"Can I shower first?"  I waved in approval, pulling my phone from my pocket to tell Mason we were going to shower pre-movie.  "Pick a movie in the meantime!"

I nodded, but the bathroom door was already closing by the time I replied.  The shower starting up sounded around the room as I heaved myself off my bed to grab my laptop.  Knowing how long Fran usually took to shower, there wasn't a rush to pick a movie.  But if I remained lying on the bed, my eyes shut for sure.

I was midway through watching a trailer when someone knocked on the door.  The shower was still running and, knowing it couldn't be anyone else but Mason, I widened by eyes in alarm.  I hadn't anticipated spending any alone time with him.

"It's open!"

Mason entered and smiled at me straight away. "Fran still showering?"  I nodded while Mason rolled his eyes. "Figures."

His hair was still wet from his own shower. As he walked towards my bed, he pushed it away from his forehead with a hand.  The light brown locks just fell back to the exact position they were in before. I expected him to perch on the edge of my bed, or I guess to feel as strange as I did.  To my surprise, though, he clambered over the sheets and lay on his side, his head propped up by his hand.  Dressed in a Chelsea golf shirt and tracksuit pants, his bare arm brushed against the side of my leg.

My cheeks heated up as I glanced down at him, trying not to show how flustered I was.  Mason's eyes were trained on my laptop screen, though, unaware of the effect our contact was having on me.

"Found us a film yet?"

He raised his eyes and met mine.  I swallowed and shook my head.  Quickly looking back to my screen, I closed the YouTube tab that was open and instead opened up Netflix.

"Nope.  Any suggestions?"

From the corner of my eye, I saw him shake his head.  "Not really. Have you watched the new Spiderman?"

"No, but Fran hates superhero films," I sighed.

Scrolling through the homepage, I hoped something would jump out at Mason, but he said nothing as I continued scrolling. The sound of the shower vanished, much to my relief; the vibe I got from Mason was nothing but relaxed, but I felt on edge.  I was much too aware of Mase beside me, of the heat coming from his arm, his reflection on my laptop screen, everything.  With the white noise gone from the bathroom, I was even aware of his breathing.

"Hey, wait," he said.  "What about a Fast an Furious?  I haven't seen those in ages."

I hovered my cursor over the face of Vin Diesel.  "I've never seen them, actually."

"What!"  In an instant, Mason had sat up, his eyes wide as he stared me down. "You've never seen the Fast and Furious movies?"

Just then, the door to the bathroom opened. Fran, surrounded by a cloud of steam, stepped outside in the same outfit as Mason, her hair wrapped in a towel atop her head.  She looked startled as she locked eyes on Mase.

"Fran, please tell me you've seen Fast and Furious?"

"Hi, Mitch," she chuckled.  "Yeah, obviously.  I don't want to watch it now, though."

Crestfallen, Mason looked back to me. "I'll make you watch them one day, don't worry."

"Fine."  With a laugh, I rose from my bed and went to my open suitcase across the room. "You guys choose something; I'll be quick."

Gathering the same golf shirt and tracksuit pants my teammates wore, I made my way to the shower.  After throwing my hair into a bun on top of my head, I stepped under the stream of water.  I tried to keep my hair dry – it didn't make sense for me to wash it now if we were playing later anyway – but my shoulders were still sprinkled with droplets as I let it out a few minutes later.

Back in the room, Mason and Fran had made themselves comfortable on my bed.  With my laptop balanced on his lap and Fran on his left, I eyed the space on the other side of Mason.  He looked up at me.  Was that smugness on his face or was I imagining things?

Flicking my hair over my shoulders, I drew closer to the bed.  "Made a decision?"

Mason rolled her eyes as Fran nodded eagerly. "27 Dresses," she said with a broad smile.  I made a face as I met Mason's eyes.

"It was not unanimous," he mumbled.

Chuckling, I placed a knee on the mattress. The pair had gotten cosy under my duvet; Fran had it almost pulled up to her chin, but it only went over Mason's legs. Part of me was tempted to just lie on top of it, but in the moment that I paused, Mase flipped it up for me.

Unable to turn down the obvious invitation, I climbed under it, too.  Even with the bed being a double, there wasn't much space with Fran and Mason already on it.  So despite my efforts to keep as far away from Mason as possible, most of the side of my body pressed against his.  Just as before, I was aware of every bit of contact.

"Well, I'm not going to spend twenty minutes trying to find another one," I said with a sigh.  Unsure of what to do with my hands, I rested them in my lap. "Let's just start."

For the first thirty minutes of the movie, I was as stiff as a goalpost.  I didn't understand where the tension I felt was coming from: it wasn't as if this was the first time I'd sat next to Mason on a bed.  Although every time I tried to remind myself that – tried to relax – flashes of that night in Czech Republic crossed my mind, and the chain reaction of memories that followed locked me right back up.

It didn't help my case that Mason kept on squirming.  The first time he moved his leg against mine as he bent his knees, my whole body must have turned red.  When he straightened his legs a few minutes later, I had the same reaction.  Every time a catchy tune played, his foot would start twitching, the sole of his foot tapping against the top of mine on every beat.

The worst was the movement of his arms. It felt like every five minutes he'd shift his position: cross them, uncross them, lift them behind his head, drop them to his sides.  And every time he did, I'd feel it against mine, sending shivers down to my toes.

Eventually, I dug my elbow into his side. "Oh, my word, sit still."

I grinned as I tilted my head up.  Mason looked down at me, a frown narrowing his eyes. "You're one to talk," he replied quietly, flicking his eyes down to my lap.

I followed his gaze to see my fingers wrapped around my hair tie.  I hadn't even been aware I'd been fiddling with it until now.  Rolling my eyes, I slipped it back onto my wrist.

"Whatever."

When it was back in place, Mason's arm appeared from underneath the duvet.  He took hold of it, pulled it back, and let it slap back down.  The sting didn't even bother me; I was too focused on the heat that came from where his fingers brushed my skin.  And the way they hovered above my hand still, just out of reach. I ogled them, so tempted to just lift my hand and trap them in mine.

"Hey, Fran's out."

"What?"  Shaken out of my daze, I leant forward to look over Mason.  Sure enough, Fran was fast asleep, her head almost buried under the covers.  "Typical."

"This movie sucks."  I had a feeling what Mason was about to suggest.  Looking to him once more, I saw uncertainty rush across his eyes before he spoke.  "Should we let Fran get some sleep and go get some tea or something?"

If it weren't for the flip of my stomach, I would have grinned at the way Mason almost stumbled over his words.  By the way he was staring down at me, I knew there was more to this suggestion than there seemed.

I must have hesitated for too long, because Mase looked away, back to my laptop.  "It's fine, we can carry on."

"No," I said quickly.  On impulse, I clutched onto his forearm.  Mason's head turned slightly.  "Yeah, let's go.  You're right, this movie sucks."

I didn't face Mason as I climbed from my bed and went in search of shoes.  By the time I'd pulled them on and grabbed my room key, he was standing at the door waiting. He gave me a small smile before pulling it open and letting me step outside first.

In the corridor, Emil was standing with Diego and Elena, the captain in hysterics.  Behind them, I could see Abby with her phone pressed to her ear.  I returned their waves, but turned away from them.

"I need shoes, hold on."

Mason jogged past me to his room further up the passage.  Glancing at his feet, I noticed for the first time that he wasn't even wearing socks. Catching his door, I lingered next to it as I watched him cross the room to his small suitcase.

"Don't you feet get cold?"

Chuckling, he looked up at me from where he'd taken a seat on the floor.  "They weren't today."  Looking away, he reached for his Nikes.  "Your bed was nice and warm."

A rush of heat flowed to my face.  Biting down on the inside of my cheek to stop myself replying, I just shook my head.  The words were innocent enough, but there was an edge to his tone that made me flush.  By the time Mason came to stand next to me, I was still blushing.

"Ready?" he asked, his mouth cocking up in a small grin.

I lead the way back into the corridor and towards the lift.  The conference room where we'd had our meetings had been decked out with a snack table; I assumed it was where we were going.  In silence, I pressed the ground button in the elevator.  The second the doors closed, Mason turned to me with crossed arms.

"Nice to see you're not avoiding me anymore." He was grinning, but his eyes were insecure.

"What?  I have not been avoiding you," I scoffed.  Mimicking his position, I leant against the elevator wall.  Despite my efforts to play it cool, my heart was racing.

"Come on, Beck."  He shook his head.  "You literally bolted when I went to see Nix yesterday." Swallowing, I felt my cheeks heat up again.  "And you ran away from me at breakfast this morning."

"I did not run away."  My attempt at a reason was feeble, and Mason's eye roll told me he felt the same.  "I told you I left my headphones in my room."

He was right, though.  I had been avoiding him.  He could have mentioned mine and Spencer's attempted gym session on Tuesday: I'd been two sets in when Mase arrived and never completed a final round as quickly as I did then.  He also may have missed how I blatantly ignored him on the plane and sat next to Olly instead.  But Mason didn't need to know that, nor did he need to know the reason why.

The concern I had about being around him didn't make much sense, yet I'd felt it since Monday.  I put it down to residual panic about the realisation I'd had on my couch the other night, about how much I cared about him.  The intensity of the moment had scared me; maybe it was still playing on my mind.

"It's fine; I get it."

He spoke softly, but before he could continue the doors opened.  Stepping into the foyer, I kept my eyes trained on the carpeted floor.  I was tense again; I felt it in my stiff shoulders.

Mason fell into step beside me.  "I would be avoiding me too, if I was you."

Unsure of what to reply, I remained silent until we reached the empty conference room.  There, I risked a glance to Mase at my side.  The difference between Mason on Monday and Tuesday had shocked me.  Gone was the despondent, exhausted guy that had woken me up in my apartment: the high-energy, lively Mason I knew returned, seemingly with more drive than I'd seen since the international break.  He killed it at our session on Tuesday, running almost everyone into the ground, controlling the ball better than all of us.  I wondered if it was to prove to the gaffer that Sunday was just a slip up, or if it was something else.

But seeing him close up now, there were still traces of his big night on his face.  Faint rings still circled his eyes and the slightest of lines had appeared between his eyebrows.  His eyes themselves, for all the energy he'd shown in the last two days, still held some weariness.

I realised I'd been staring at him wordlessly. Clearing my throat, I took a step closer to the snack table, away from Mason.

"It's not that I've been avoiding you," I started, not sure myself where this was going to lead.  "It's just..."  I picked up a mug and studied it, not able to look at Mason.  "I just don't know where we're at right now."

I could feel his gaze on me, so I bravely looked up.  Confusion tugged at his eyebrows as his mouth parted slightly.  Placing the mug down, I sighed.

"I just mean that on the weekend we were fighting and things were... messy, you know?"  I waved my hands through the air to try and emphasise my point.  Mason nodded once, slowly.  "And then Sunday happened, whatever actually happened on Sunday, and I guess we're fine now but..."  I sighed again and shrugged, studying the tablecloth instead of Mason's expression.  "We just never really cleared the air properly, I guess."

"Yeah, I guess not."

I reached for a teabag to put in the mug I was playing with, which gave me an excuse not to look at Mason.  My hands felt shaky, my stomach sick at the thought of this conversation going south after we seemed to be getting back on track. Perhaps I should have just let things be.

"I really did mean it when I apologised," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.  "And not just for Sunday."

While he spoke, I opened the tap on the urn, still not looking up at him.  When I placed my mug back on the table, I heard him sigh.

"Beck, can you—"  His hand came down on my shoulder, startling me.  I looked up, eyes wide.  "Just stop a second, yeah?"

His expression, so openly vulnerable, made my mouth dry.  Nodding, I rolled my lips into my mouth.  He kept his hand on my shoulder, his touch both a comfort and a worry.

"I don't want to keep fighting with you, Beck," he continued, his eyes boring into mine.  "And I know that's not just up to me, but I am sorry."  My throat started to burn.  He shook his head.  "For Sunday, yeah, but for all the other stuff, too.  I was just being an idiot, which is shitty excuse, I know, but really I don't know what I was doing."  His hand squeezed my shoulder, almost making me shudder.  "So, yeah, you don't have to forgive me, obviously, but can we just... be okay?"

His eyes were scrunched up, his lips parted. It was clear that he was being genuine, and I believed that he was sorry for it all.  And heck, I didn't want to keep fighting with him either.  It was exhausting.

Before I could rethink anything, I nodded. Relief dawned on Mason's face slowly, as if he couldn't believe that his speech had paid off.  The line disappeared between his eyebrows when the frown he'd been wearing faded.  I felt it, too, like all the pressure in my body was released.   I took a deep breath in.

"It's okay, Mase."  His hand tightened on my shoulder again.  "You were an idiot, but you're right: this fighting sucks."

"It's the worst."

His lips pulled upwards in a small smile, the same one that I was sure I bore.  The hand on my shoulder slid down my back, pushing me forwards until I was close enough to wrap my arms around Mason's torso.  My smile broadened as I nestled my head into his chest.  His body heaved against mine as he took a long breath and let out it out in a sigh.

"Friends?" he asked, his voice muffled in my shoulder.

I chuckled and nodded.  "Just don't try to kiss me again, yeah?"

The second I said it, regret appeared sour in my mouth.  They were meant to lighten the mood, but instead the words made my stomach turn with sorrow.  Thankfully, Mason breathed out a laugh and just squeezed me more.  I shut my eyes against his shirt, trying to shut out the sudden wave of emotions twisting in my stomach.  For a moment, I even shut out our surroundings, forgot where we were and why we were there.

"Beck?"  Mason's soft words brought me crashing back to reality.  "I, uh... I—"

"Are we interrupting something?"

Hastily stepping back from Mason, I glanced to the doorway.  Abby, Diego, and Elena had entered, all of them examining us with different expressions. Abby, clearly the one who'd spoken up, seemed to be holding back a grin, while Elena was giggling.  Diego, who was behind the girls on his phone, had a confused frown.

"Beck was sulking because I said she makes terrible tea," Mason recovered in a beat.

"Hey!"  I reached out to slap the side of his arm.  The affectionate look he threw me made me grin too, though.

"I know for a fact Becks makes great tea," Abby said, shooting me a large grin.

I rolled my eyes as she fell into a chair. "Want some tea, Abs?"

"Oh, me, please!" Diego called, pocketing his phone.

"If you're making, me too," Elena added.

Mason and I got started on tea for our teammates while Elena ratted off a story behind us.  Sneaking a glance at Mason, I wondered what had been going through his head the moment before the trio arrived.  What had he wanted to say?  Did he still plan on telling me?  I knew the thought that kept on playing over and over in my head, at least.  Sure, our conversation – and even our actions – had every indication of being friendly, yet there was an undeniable charge between us that I doubted Mason missed.

I laughed at Elena's punch line and at Abby's cheeky reply.  But as I looked at Mase again, disorienting remorse stung my heart.  If my instinct was right, if what I kept thinking was true, I only had myself to blame.  But that only made me feel worse.

Have I missed my shot with Mason?

Taking a seat next to Diego, I pushed it out of my mind.  There'd be plenty of time to deliberate it later, when our game was finished and we'd come away with three points.  For now, I wanted to relax and just enjoy the fact that after such a shitty previous week, things were, in a way, looking up.