The dressing room buzzed with activity when I entered. Heart pounding, I flickered my eyes across the room searching for Mason. A group of subs gathered near the doorway, obscuring my view. Craning my neck to see past them, I frowned; he wasn't sitting at any of the benches.
"Mitch is next door." Spinning around, I met Spencer's grinning face. "If that's who you're looking for."
I rolled my eyes as his smile grew. "Cheers, Spence."
The echoing voices of my teammates followed me as I rounded the corner of the changing room, to where two extra physio beds were set up. Lying back on one of these was Mason, his eyes shut and the side of his face stained with blood. My pulse leapt as I took him in for a moment: the ice pack pressed against his left temple, his abandoned shin pads and boots on the floor, his rolled down socks.
As soon as I stepped over his discarded boots, his eyes flew opened and focused on me. The ghost of a grin passed over his mouth.
"You got a little something on your face, Mitchell."
Coming to a stop beside the bed, I crossed my arms. He chuckled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Noted, thanks."
My stomach twisted at how feeble he sounded. Uncrossing my arms, I laid a hand on his shoulder. His jersey, wet under my fingers, shifted as he raised his free arm. Blood rushed to my cheeks as he wrapped a hand around my forearm, his tired eyes keeping hold of mine.
"How is it?" I asked, my eyebrows lowering. "Are you okay?"
"I mean it wasn't quite a weight." He grinned and focused his gaze above my eye. Letting out a laugh, I shook my head, "But it's a bit sore, yeah."
"I imagine Savic has a pretty thick skull."
"I can verify that," he chuckled.
Smiling, I gave his shoulder a squeeze. In response, he ran his thumb along the top of my forearm, making the hairs stand on their ends. Taking a deep breath in to stop my racing heart, I lifted my free hand. Raising my eyebrows, I pointed to his ice pack.
"Can I look?"
Grimacing, Mason gingerly lowered the bag. "Yeah, but it's not pretty."
He was right: a golf ball sized bump stared back at me from the side of his forehead. For the amount of blood on his face, I'd been expecting a bigger cut, but the skin was just split at the apex of the bump, the cut not even large enough for stiches. Blood still trickled out of it, but most of the bleeding was clearly done.
"I don't know, I think you look better like this," I teased, my voice coming out quieter than anticipated.
Wincing, I moved my hand closer. As gently as I could, I brushed my fingers over the edge of the egg. A particularly loud bout of laughter sounded from the changing room, but as Mason tightened his grip on my arm, the rest of the team felt miles away.
"Well, as long as it has your approval." His voice didn't have the same joking tone mine had.
I could feel his gaze on me as I ran my fingers down his cheek, following a dried trail of blood. I felt flushed. Whatever I'd felt that afternoon in the hotel was back. My chest was tight, my cheeks hot. Against my better judgment, I shifted my stare to meet Mason's. His eyelashes fluttered over his eyes; the small action made my stomach flip.
"Mitch, holy shit!"
Kyle's yell burst whatever bubble Mason and I were in. Before I could process it, I'd stepped away from the bed. My hand dropped back to my side, Mason's slipping off my arm as he raised it in a wave. I couldn't look at him, way too aware of how intense that moment was. Well, for me, at least.
Raising my gaze from the floor, I saw Fran, Kyle and Olly approaching the bed, all of them staring at Mason's head. Kyle moved to the Mason's left and, squinting, leant his head down close to the bump.
"When does it hatch, Mase?"
Fran followed behind Kyle, leaning in to get a closer look, too. "That looks disgusting."
Olly, meanwhile, stopped beside me, but became equally as engrossed with the egg on Mason's head. Feeling strangely rattled, I left the trio to fuss over Mason and returned to the changing room. Pulling my drenched shirt off, I looked around for Frank: the sooner he debriefed us, the sooner I could jump under a shower. Adrenalin ebbed out of my system and, as the blush left my cheeks, coldness crept across my skin.
I grabbed a bottle from a rack on the floor before collapsing back against my bench. Abby, whose locker was next to mine, came to stand in front of it.
"How's Mase?" she asked, rifling through her bag. "Still alive?"
I chuckled. "He'll survive, yeah."
With a huff, she fell back next to me, phone in her hands. "God, that guy is a pig." Feeling her eyes on me, I turned. Abby was frowning. "That is the guy that injured you in Russia, right?"
"The one and only," I mumbled. Leaning down, I tugged off my boots.
"Ah, no wonder Mitch lost it with him." Tilted my head up, I saw Abby grinning down at me. "What? You know I'm right."
"Whatever."
"He can't help himself. It's kind of cute, actually."
I sat up straight again and rolled my eyes at Abby's grin. "He would have done the same if it was anyone else in the team."
Abby's smirk widened. "Yeah, keep telling yourself that, Becks."
Before I could reply, movement from the doorway caught my attention. Frank waltzed in, a surprising frown on his face. Scanning the room, he strode towards where Stu was sitting with Lucia, who had a larger ice pack than Mason's strapped to her knee. The three of them exchanged words before Frank disappeared around the back, probably in search of Mason. He returned, Fran, Kyle and Olly in his tow, and just as I hauled off my socks, he started talking.
By the time we finally boarded the bus my eyes were droopy. The fatigue was expected after a long day and physical ninety minutes, but the extra stresses from the game left me wearier than usual post-match. I slogged down the aisle behind Victor, cursing him when he slipped into the empty row I was eyeing. Left with the row two behind him, I shuffled in. Abby and Kyle had caught my attention near the end of the bus, but Kyle was filled with energy that I wasn't equipped to deal with.
Facing forwards, I spotted Lucia hobbling onto the bus, closely followed by Mason. Without the blood stains on his face, it was hard to tell he was even injured from far away. But as he came closer and eventually fell into the seat next to me, the bump on his head became clear as day.
Rearranging in his seat, he turned to shoot me a brief smile.
"How's your egg?" I asked, holding back another wince as I caught sight of it.
"The egg is actually pretty numb," he answered with a shrug.
"So if I do this you won't feel it?" Pointer finger raised, I was ready to give his injury a jab. Mason, letting out a small chuckle, grabbed my forearm and forced it down between our seats.
"Don't even think about it, Hart." Keeping hold of my arm, he slouched down in his seat. "I still have a headache, you know."
Pity swelled in my chest as I recalled the headache that followed my knock at St George's. I mumbled out an apology, but Mason didn't reply. A moment later, his head came down on my shoulder. My cheeks heated up as he let out a deep sigh and crossed his arms. His hair, still slightly damp, tickled my neck as he adjusted his position. Having him so close might have freaked me out even earlier that evening, but now I just revelled in his closeness. What I was over aware of, though, was that the lump on his head was mightily close to my shoulder bone.
"Kind of funny how Savic managed to injure both of us, hey?"
"Yeah," Mason replied with a huff of air. "At least yours wasn't as bad as mine."
Repressing a grin, I shook my head. "Oh yeah, nowhere close. I didn't even bleed."
His jacket shuffled. My eyes were trained on the seat in front of me, but movement drew my attention downwards. Mason poked the side of my leg.
"You okay?"
I knew he was referring to the scuffle with Savic in the match. On any other night I might have been more overwhelmed after an incident like that, especially given whom it was with. But I felt fine.
"Yeah, I'm okay." Mimicking his action, I gave him a prod on his leg with my finger. "He's just... a bully."
"The Croatian version of Randall."
"That's not a bad comparison," I laughed. "But Lance wishes he was as scary as Savic."
"Scary?" Mason asked, also chortling.
I let out a squeal as he jabbed a finger into my leg once, and then again. My pulse soared at the contact and at the ticklishness it caused. As a reflex, I reached out and took hold of his wrist to stop him.
"Yeah! Come on, he's intimidating."
The momentary hysteria died as we fell into silence. I still had his wrist in my grasp, holding it away from my leg. He shifted in my grip and, thinking he was pulling it away, I released it. But he took control of my wrist instead and lowered it down to my leg. Widening my eyes in surprise, I spread my hand out palm down.
"You didn't look intimidated, don't worry."
His hand remained on my wrist. My stomach tightened as, without warning, he spread his fingers out over mine, covering them with ease. I wondered if he could feel how fast my heart was beating.
"Good to know."
The bus roared to life, clearly all the stragglers were on board, but I scarcely noticed it. Slowly inhaling, I turned my hand over underneath his. Palm to palm with Mason's now, my pulse jumped even more. I wanted to look at Mason's face, try and gauge his reaction. Was he as in awe of our sudden affection as I was? Had I just taken it too far?
"Thank you, by the way," I said. Music had started up from the back of the bus â no doubt Kyle's doing â and if Mason's ear wasn't so close to my mouth, my voice would have been lost amongst the noise. "For, you know, defending me."
While I spoke, Mason curled his fingers, grazing them along the length of mine. They reached my palm, where he stopped for a moment. He left behind trails of heat on my fingers and before they could vanish, he was retracing them, extending his fingers once more.
"Not that you needed defending." His voice rumbled beside my ear, equally as quiet as mine had been. "But he deserved it."
For a second I was transported back to the game. A vision of Mason's furious eyes flashed in my mind, followed by his face contorted with pain, bloody gauze and all. Mason pressed his fingertips against mine, bringing me back to reality as a rush of tingles stemmed from the touch. I cleared my throat softly.
"At least he seemed to be worse off after your accident."
Mason's head vibrated against my shoulder as he chuckled. "Yeah, I saw him in the tunnel. Apparently he needed to get a scan or something. You know, check for a concussion."
While he spoke, he ran his fingers down mine again. They bunched in my palm once more, the sensation comforting now that the initial shock it caused had mostly left my system.
"Well, I'm glad you're here and not..." I trailed off, my mouth dry. My mind blanked, those words that meant nothing a few weeks before catching me off guard. Mason's touch disappeared from my hand. "Um, not, like, at the hospital or something."
My face burned. Clearly I'd read into this wrong, and now one stupid saying had thrown Mason, too. I stared down at my hand laid out on my leg so stupidly, and at Mason's suspended in the air above it. Squeezing my eyes shut, I tried to ignore the sick feeling in my stomach.
But then Mason's fingers slipped between mine, clasping our hands together. I released a trembling breath, afraid that if I opened my eyes Mason would let go of my hand.
"Trust me, me too."
Timidly, I laid my head on top of his, not fully relaxing until he squeezed my hand. I rubbed my thumb along the side of his forefinger, butterflies flying around in my stomach. The same comfort I'd felt cuddling Mason on my couch returned. Chest warm, I wondered how long it would take me to fall asleep in this position.
"Beck?"
The hesitance in his voice woke me up in a beat. "Yeah?"
"I need toâ"
"Yo, Mason!"
Kyle's voice, for the second time that night, shocked me into a sitting position. Turning my head, I saw him lumbering down the aisle towards us. Mason's touch disappeared as both of us retracted our hands; like naughty school kids caught doing something we weren't meant to.
"Kyle?" Voice terse, Mason straightened, too.
Coming to a stop beside Mason's seat, Kyle lifted his phone. "Nat wants to see your egg. Can I take a picture?"
Mason laughed and turned his head. "Yeah, whatever. Â Why not?"
I didn't know for sure if Mase was trying to tell me the same thing as he had in the hotel, but my gut told he was. The fact that his chance was ripped from us again left frustration prickling my chest.
"Beck, get involved," Kyle said. "I'm going to put this on Instagram."
Despite my irritation, I grinned and leant forwards, posing beside Mason's injury. Whatever he wanted to say would just have to wait another day.