On Friday morning I drove into a surprisingly sunny Cobham with a smile on my face. For the first time since before the international break, I didn't feel miserable parking my car: no dread crept up my spine, no uncomfortable knot twisted my stomach. In fact, excitement bubbled in my chest as I stepped outside.
Things were looking up on all fronts. Newcastle was far behind me, there was the Spurs game to look forward to tomorrow, Frank's gala the day after, and whatever weirdness there was between me and Mason seemed done with.
Shutting my door, I stopped for a minute beside my car. Weak sun bathed down on me and, despite the frostiness in the October air, my skin warmed under the rays. Leaning back against my door, I shut my eyes.
"Yo, Beck!"
Drawn out of my daze a few minutes later, I opened my eyes. Squinting into the sunlight, I turned my head to see Kyle approaching me. He raised his shoulders in a shrug, removing the stylish glasses he wore from his head at the same time.
"What are you doing?"
"Appreciating the sun," I said with a shrug of my own. "Might be the last time we see it until March."
"True that." With a chuckle, he leant against the side of my car, too. "Thought you might be trying to catch a last minute tan before Sunday."
I shook my head. "That ship sailed a long time ago."
"So, you excited for it?"
"We still have tomorrow to get through," I reminded him.
He waved me off. "Yeah, well, we do that every week. We don't go to fancy dinners every week."
"It's a gala, not a dinner." I laughed as Kyle pulled a face at me. "I am excited, though. I think it'll be fun." Kyle made a noise of agreement. "Is Nat happy with her new dress?"
"Oh, God, don't get me started." With a groan, he pushed himself off my car and stood in front of me. "Yesterday she put on the new dress â you know, that we spent three hours getting last weekend? â and she said she preferred the first one. After all of that." He threw his hands into the air. "Unbelievable."
I grinned. "Well, as long as she's happy."
Kyle rolled his eyes and fell back against the door again. "She better be."
A car rolled into the space a few down from mine and Diego climbed out. He gave us a wave but retreated inside before stopping for a conversation. I knew the Argentine would be at the gala â the South Americans always enjoyed the party â but a lot of the squad had decided against coming. Annika, who hated attention in all forms, vowed to stay well clear, and Olly had declined, too. Fran and Abby lived for things like this, something that surprised me the year before, and Mason I knew loved the schmoozing the event presented.
I thought back to the previous year. The day before, my physio agreed that I could go, with the promise to keep off my feet as much as possible. Fran jumped on the bandwagon when I told her and insisted she'd sort me out for the night, which she did. She got me ready, stuck by my side as I hobbled around, and made sure that when everyone else started dancing, I wasn't alone. The rest of the team offered their support, too: Kyle fetched me plates of snacks the whole night, Abby snuck me drinks from the bar, and Mason, in between sucking up to retired players or pundits or journalists, relayed any juicy stories he'd heard.
"Beck?"
"Huh?" Dragged out of my memories from that night, I realised Kyle had been speaking.
He frowned. "I said what are you wearing?"
"It's a surprise." With a grin, I straightened up.
"Don't be that person," Kyle scoffed. He held out a hand. "Come on, let me see a picture."
"No," I said, slapping his hand away.
Instead of having to borrow a dress from Fran this year, my new deal with Burberry gave me a selection to choose from. Before meeting Kyle on Sunday, I'd narrowed it down to two dresses: an obvious more out-there option and a second, more conservative one. My head told me to go with the latter, but part of me wanted to branch out and wear something out of my comfort zone.
"I haven't even decided, anyway," I carried on, crossing my arms across my chest.
"Show me pictures and I can help."
Meeting Kyle's eyes, I raised an eyebrow suspiciously. He did have great style, probably better than mine. Holding out his hand again, he grinned triumphantly as I reached into my jacket pocket. What did I have to loose?
"Okay, fine," I said. "But be nice."
Opening my pictures, I scrolled up in search of the ones Joan had taken. Kyle, almost quivering with excitement, leaned his head over the screen as I opened up the first one.
Unfortunately for me, he gave equally complimentary reviews on both options. He agreed in saying the tight sparkly option might not be as appropriate as the green wrap dress, but I was nowhere closer to making a decision a while later.
"This was a waste of time," I chuckled. Kyle still had my phone in his hands, scrolling through different shoe options. "I'll just get Fran to decide for me."
Looking up from the screen, I spotted Mason's car pulling into his space. While we'd been chatting, players had steadily been streaming into the parking lot. If Mason was here, it must mean we were almost due inside. Kyle made an ohnoise from beside me, but I kept my eyes trained on Mason as he stepped out of his car. In a second he was grinning and heading towards us.
"What are you guys doing?" he called from a few yards away.
Kyle raised his head and, before I could reply, lifted a hand into the air. "We're appreciating the sun, Mitch. What does it look like?"
Mason fell against the car on my other side, the grin still on his face. Tilting my head, I met his gaze and shot him a smile. My cheeks warmed as he nudged me with his elbow.
"Good, you need some sun before Sunday." Dropping my jaw in shock, I slapped Kyle on the arm as he sniggered. "But I meant what are you looking at?" He flicked his head towards Kyle without breaking our eye contact.
"Beck's dress options for Sunday."
I was already reaching for my phone when Mason moved in front of me, his arm lunging for the device, too. I reached it first and pocketed in as quickly as I could.
"Let me see, Hart." Mason stood in front of me with a pout. "Please?"
"No, it's meant to be a surprise." I rolled my eyes as his frown deepened. "It's in two days, Mitchell, I think you can wait that long."
"Kyle got to see," he mumbled. Still sulking, he took his place next to me once more, considerably closer than he was a moment before.
"Because I'm Beck's favourite."
"Because you said you'd help me pick one," I corrected, holding up a hand. "But you didn't even do that."
"I can help you pick." Kyle laughed from my other side, forcing a grin onto my face, too. "What?"
"I think she'd be better off asking the gaffer than you," Kyle teased.
From the corner of my eye I saw Kyle lean forwards. When I turned to look, I saw his trademark cheeky grin, his eyes challenging Mason. Turning my head to the other side, Mason just shook his head, not taking the bait.
"Well, I think you'll look great in anything, Hart."
His eyes skimmed over to Kyle before they settled on me. Compared to their usual brown colour, they shone golden in the morning light. Stomach turning, I tried to hold back the smile that took over my face anyway. Mason's cheeks turned pink; I didn't know if it was from the sun or the compliment. He stuck his hands in his jacket pockets, leaning against my side for a moment as he did.
"Yeah, but what would she look best in?" For a second I'd forgotten Kyle was there, but his voice steered my attention away from Mason. "That's what we need to decide."
"What Fran needs to decide," I said under my breath, earning a nudge from Kyle.
We lapsed into silence. I let my head fall back and shut my eyes. Weak as it was, the sun had warmed me more than I expected. I was almost tempted to remove my jacket. Compared to the icy rain we'd faced in Amsterdam, this felt like summer.
When the thought of Amsterdam came into my head, Mason's injury sprung to my mind. Standing up straight, I faced him.
"How's your head, by the way?" I asked, bumping him with my arm.
He straightened, too, and then turned his head to the side. "Not so bad today."
Although the egg had shrunk down to a more bean-sized bump overnight, purple bruising had decorated Mason's face yesterday. Now, though, even the bruising had faded: yellow and brown smudged his forehead, fainter than I anticipated. The cut was still there, now scabbed over and looking worse than it did after the game.
Impulsively, I reached my hand up to his face. Brushing my fingers across the bruise and scab, it felt surprisingly level. If there was still a bump, it was barely peanut-sized.
"Looks good, right?" Mason asked.
I nodded, fingers still on his face. "Doesn't even look sore anymore."
"It still is," Mason said slowly, narrowing his eyes.
"You sure?" Grinning, I pressed my finger down below the cut.
"Hey, watch it!"
He leaned back, moving his head out of my reach. His arms blurred in front of me and, in a flash, he'd grabbed onto my forearms. Laughing, he held them tightly, barely flinching as I struggled to get them free. I stopped fighting as much when he transferred them into one hand, freeing up his other.
"I didn't go around poking your head when you got hit," he joked.
His finger pushed down on my eyebrow, right where the tiny scar remained from St George's. I let out a squealing giggle, trying to dodge his outstretched pointer finger. Catching his gaze, the playful expression in them made my stomach flip.
"Children, calm down," Kyle scolded.
Mason, his face lit up, loosened his grip on my wrists. I pulled free, attempting to scowl, but my smile remained stubbornly. Mimicking Mason's stance, I held my hands up in front of my face. He faked a stab forwards, causing me to flinch. I did the same, but he remained motionless, only chuckling at my attempt.
"Okay, okay, truce?" I said, lowering my hands. I narrowed my eyes at Mason, whose arms sank down, too.
"Fine." Stuffing his hands back into his pockets, he threw a glance over his shoulder towards the building. "I actually need to go see Stu once more, anyway."
"Good riddance," Kyle said. "Now we appreciate the sun in peace."
Mason sighed and nodded. "Might not see it for a few more months."
"That's what I said!" I smiled as Mason looked down at me affectionately.
He twirled around a moment later, giving us a wave over his shoulder. Rodri had just arrived, and I watched in amusement as Mason launched himself into the air, using Rodri's shoulders as leverage. The two were play wrestling when they entered the glass doors of Cobham.
Kyle cleared his throat next to me. "So," he said, drawing out the word. "What was that?"
"What was what?" Despite trying to act confused, my cheeks warmed.
He raised his eyebrow and crossed his arms. "You know what I'm talking about." Feeling like a busted kid, I shrugged innocently. "That was a lot of flirting for two people who weren't even talking a week ago."
I looked away and scoffed, but I knew how meagre it sounded. "We were not flirting, Kyle. We were just..." I trailed off, waving a hand through the air. Kyle narrowed his eyes, urging me on. "It was just, you know, banter?"
Oddly cold, Kyle turned his head away. "And after the game? That was also just banter, yeah?"
"I was just checking up on him," I spluttered. My face got hotter and my stomach sunk. What had Kyle seen on Wednesday night? His behaviour then hadn't given me much of a clue, but clearly he wasn't as oblivious to the moment he'd interrupted than I thought. "What's your deal?"
He spun to face me, his frown low over his eyes. "You were practically crying when we had lunch the other day and now you're acting like this, Beck." He stopped for a moment, his expression softening. "Didn't this all start because you said you got carried away and almost hooked up?"
Shame burned hot all over my body. Kyle was right. Lifting a shoulder helplessly, I studied the ground. "I guess. But that's not what's going on now."
"Isn't it?" Kyle sighed. "I just can't understand what's changed, that's all."
I took a deep breath, trying to release the tension in my shoulders. "We talked about it. And he apologised. So maybe you should just be happy that I'm not about to cry anymore."
I met Kyle's eyes, shocked at how serious they were. The teasing grin I attempted faded.
"I'm not saying this to upset you, you know. I just don't want you to get hurt, yeah?"
"Why would I get hurt?" My voice came out just above a whisper. Heart pounding, I watched as Kyle squirmed.
"Because he's still with Liv, Beck," he eventually said. I bit down on the inside of my cheeks. Resentment rose in my chest and tightened my throat.
"I know that."
"Okay, good."
We stared at each other for a moment silently. Whatever good mood I'd been in when I arrived was ruined, spoiled by the meaning behind Kyle's words. Eventually, he rested a hand on my arm and flicked his head towards Cobham's entrance.
"We should get inside," he said.
I nodded. "Yeah, I'll be there in a minute."
He squeezed my arm, eyebrows tilted with sympathy. When he was out of sight, I collapsed against my door again. Even the sunshine felt tainted, like what feeble warmth it offered was being drained by my bitterness. Kyle had spoken with good intentions, but was what he said really necessary? I mean, flirting? Getting carried away? Being hurt?
What does Kyle know, anyway?
With a sigh, I abandoned the sunlight and made my way inside. I needed to push whatever mood Kyle had put me in aside. Mason and I were in a good place. I knew where I stood with him. Of course I knew he was still with Liv. So what if some of our exchanges came across flirtier than intended? It was harmless. It didn't mean anything.
But as I entered the dressing room to put my kit on, there was still a sour taste in my mouth. It made me second-guess myself. Because as much as I could tell myself that, did I really believe it? Did I really believe me and Mason's behaviour was innocent?
Glancing over to where Mason sat with Daniel Gregory and Marta Roberto, my stomach flipped. I couldn't think of an honest answer.