Frank's whistle signalled the end of a relatively easy training. Our manager called us in to say his parting words and my legs dragged along the grass, as if weighed down by concrete blocks. In fact, even given the straightforwardness of the session, I'd had to exert extra effort into moving my body the whole time. Thoughts raced around my head, distracting me from the passing and shooting drills laid out for us, and it showed.
I wondered if the team picked up on it, if they noticed my sloppy first touches and off-target shots. As I joined the huddle of players and coaches, I spotted Mason across the circle from me. Had he picked up on it? If half of his attention had been on me like mine had been on him, he would have. But, just as I'd seen before training, he'd been irritatingly emotionless all afternoon.
Frank's words went over my head as I played out what I wanted to say to Mason for the hundredth time. I had it all planned, all rehearsed. All I needed was a chance to get him alone, away from the eyes and ears of the team, so that I could have my say. It couldn't be that hard, right?
Chatter started up around me, bringing me out of my thoughts. Glued to the spot, I watched as my teammates dispersed and made their way back inside. I didn't blame them: the rain had yet to hit, but the air was thick with static and heavy with clouds. My mind begged me to follow suit, but my legs refused to move when I glanced back to Mason.
Like me, he stood in the same place, body rigid and expression blank. We locked eyes and my stomach lurched. Here's your chance, Beck. With a deep breath, I willed my legs forward, and forward, until I stood in front of Mason.
"Hey," I greeted. My voice sounded weak, so I cleared my throat as Mason raised his eyebrows. "Um, lookâ"
"I'm going to do some free kicks," Mason said in a hurry, eyes wide. I blinked at him. "Uh, do you want to join?"
"Yeah, okay."
Mason nodded. His intervention had thrown me off, but I pushed down my alarm. In silence, we ambled towards the goals, gathering loose balls as we went. I leant down and picked up a ball bag, too. One of the coaches was busy throwing balls into them across the pitch from us. Mason caught his attention, motioned to our growing pile, and received a thumbs-up in reply.
Tension stiffened my shoulders more and more as the silence between us dragged on. Words played on repeat in my head, but my mouth couldn't form them. I glimpsed at Mason. His gaze focused on the ground, eyebrows low over his eyes. Did his mind flip through what he wanted to say, too? Did nerves also hold him back from saying them?
I swallowed and tore my gaze away. Instead, I tried to engross myself in the ball at my feet. Half my attention remained on Mason in my periphery as I took a couple of steps back. He rested his hands on his hips and raised his head to watch me. Butterflies filled my stomach as I eyed the goal, but I flicked my gaze to him for a millisecond. With a deep breath, I stepped up and fired the ball towards the net. Satisfied as it flew into the back of it, I faced Mason.
His lips rolled into his mouth. He held my stare for a moment, still speechless, but then turned away and set up a ball in the same way I had. I took my turn to watch him as he ogled the goals. My heart panged as he brushed the hair from his forehead, leaving it ruffled on the top of his head.
I need to say something.
Mason made perfect contact with the ball and it sailed into the top corner of the goals. He barely reacted, just stood facing the net.
Say something!
"How was brunch?" I blurted. It was the last thing I'd planned to say, and my nails dug into my palm in frustration at my words.
Mason turned around, still frowning. To distract myself from my embarrassment, I moved another ball away from the pile.
"Uh, yeah, it was nice," Mason replied. "I'm sure you'll see it on Pippa's Instagram later."
A ghost of a grin flickered on my face, but I avoided looking at him. I hit the next ball, much less sweetly than Mason's, but it still made it to the goals.
"So it lived up to her hype?"
Mason nodded and, like me, grabbed another ball. "Oh, yeah. Exceeded expectations."
I breathed out a chuckle. This small talk sent shivers of discomfort down my spine, but at least we were talking. I studied Mason as he stared at the ball in front of him. There was no way I'd be able to keep it up for much longer. Mase stepped forward, but shanked his shot wide of the goals. Did he think the same? Again, he faced where his ball had gone, hands on his hips.
I opened my mouth, adrenalin spiking through my chest. I inhaled sharply, readying myself, but Mason chose this second to spin around. A weird desire to get in the first word overwhelmed me.
"Mase, about this morningâ"
"I'm really sorry, Beck."
Again, his interruption caught me off guard. My mouth gaped open as his expression exposed him for the first time. Apprehension and distress oozed from his eyes. Instead of comforting me like it had in the past, his agitation transmitted to me, and the panic in my chest only intensified. I straightened up, trying to put on a brave face. Say what you need to say.
"No, I'm sorry, Mase," I said softly. "I... I just panicked and overreacted and..."
"Beck, just hold on. I need to say this first."
Mason stepped forwards and the words melted in my mouth. Resolve hardened his face as my heart propelled terror through my body. I had no idea what his next words would be, where his mind was. All I was sure of was the immenseness of the moment we found ourselves in.
"Okay," I whispered.
His shoulders heaved with a deep breath. Jaw taut, his eyes moved around the pitch before they settled on me. I felt tiny under his gaze, more intense than I had ever seen it. My stomach heaved with nausea.
"I really like you, Beck. And I really... I want this. And I want to do it properly."
The breath left my chest; the ground spun beneath my feet. Mason's gaze remained steadfast. Before I had time to properly react â to properly grasp his confession and the enormity of it â he carried on.
"And, look, I get that this might be a bigger deal for you, and I get that even more after this morning." Regret clutched at my stomach. "So, I just... if you don't want this, or if this is going to be too much, just tell me." His eyes glistened earnestly and his lip twitched with the hint of a grin. "Because, flip Hart, I care about you way too much for this to just be about a booty call."
Oh my God oh my God oh my God.
I released the breath I'd been holding. A smile threatened my lips, but it failed halfway there. Joy should have overwhelmed me â I wanted it to â but something held me back from just leaping into his arms and showering him with kisses on the spot. Mason studied me, the resoluteness in his expression faltering, and my heart dropped.
"It's not, Mase," I said, my voice barely audible. "And trust me, I want this, too. I really do."
I paused. I needed to savour the seconds before I carried on, to appreciate the confession I'd finally said out loud, the one that had been playing on my mind for weeks, if not months. I needed a second to relish in the hope in Mason's eyes, to recite it to memory, before I said anything that could take it away forever.
I needed those seconds, because within them, the hopefulness drained from Mason's face.
"Why do I sense there's a but coming?"
Swallowing, I dropped my eyes to the floor and squeezed them shut.
Why is there a but coming? Why does there always have to be a but?
My throat tightened. Everything I'd planned to say to Mason all afternoon dissolved from my mind, blown out of existence by the explosion of emotion throughout my body.
"I just don't know if I can, Mase."
Looking back up, I found Mason staring down at me, his expression vacant. Had this been the reply he'd expected? Or had he thought I'd thrown all my doubts in the bin in the few hours since I'd seen him? Whatever he'd thought, or wished, or hoped, I still felt sick as he turned his head away.
"Because of that article?" he asked, his voice rocky. "Or because of something else?"
"Because of a lot of things."
"Like what?" I shrunk back from the volume in his voice and the sudden anger that took hold of his face. Clearly sensing it, Mase rubbed a hand across his face. "Sorry, I just..." Mason shook his head. "I just wish you'd talk to me, Beck. And tell me where your head is at."
My knees trembled. At this point, I didn't even know where my head was. Tears pricked in my eyes and I lifted a shaky hand to swipe one away as it slipped out. What was wrong with me? Just before training I'd convinced myself this was what I wanted.
It was what I wanted.
"Because you're sending me a lot of mixed signals here, you know?" Mason continued. "I mean, you flirt with me and hook up with me and call me in the middle of the night, and then the next day you want nothing to do with me." I wiped another tear from my cheek as Mason's voice cracked. "I don't get it, Beck."
"I do like you, Mase," I said, stronger than I imagined. Mason's shoulders slumped. "Seriously, I've liked you for a lot longer than I should have; I think you know that."
His eyes widened, a glimmer of hope back in them. My next confession hung on the edge of my tongue. I willed myself to say it, to finally admit my cowardice out loud.
"I'm just really scared, okay?" The words tumbled ungracefully from my mouth. Mason's frown relaxed. Heart pounding, I rambled on before the urge to speak left me again. "I missed a year of playing last season, Mase. You thought it was hard last night to be in the stands while everyone played? Now imagine that for a whole year." Mason's entire face softened now, which only drove me on. "I just can't have anything like that again. And seeing what everyone was saying just... The idea of anything going wrong because of this and then, you know, having it affect my career again just terrifies me." I took a breath and allowed my words to settle. "So, yeah, no matter how much I want this, I can't ignore what it might mean for my future. And yours. Because if this affected your career as well, I don't know what I'd do."
My tears may have dried up, but panic burst open in my chest once more. Did I say too much? I studied Mason's face, searching for some kind of a response. Was he going to think I was being too selfish? WasI being too selfish? Mason opened his mouth and my heart stung with fear.
"Beck," he said. "You know I'd never do anything to jeopardize your career, right?"
The softness behind his words took me by surprise. Where I'd expected my words to anger or disappoint Mason, all they seemed to do was hurt him.
"I know, I know. Of course you wouldn't." I shook my head. My hand, on impulse, reached forwards, searching for his body. But I stopped with it raised it front of me and sharply drew it back to my side. "It's not you I'm worried about: it's the media and the team and people like Randall and the gaffer andâ"
Mason's hands came down on my shoulders. Without realising, tears dampened my cheeks again. All the air in my body left me as I met Mason's gaze. His thumbs traced my collarbones wordlessly. Some of my terror eased at his touch.
"How can you not worry about all of this?" I whispered. My right hand reached out and fiddled with the hem of Mason's shirt. I watched it intently, too overwhelmed to look back up at Mason.
"I don't know; I just don't."
"But it's your career andâ"
"Yeah, it's my career." Now, I looked up. The last thing I anticipated was the amusement in Mason's expression. "And it means everything to me." The corners of his lips lifted in a grin. "But who I date has nothing to do with it."
I sighed and released Mason's shirt. Instead, I laid my palm flat against his chest. His heart thumped against it, steady and reassuring. He was right; I knew it, just as I'd known Abby was right when she'd said the same thing to me.
"Yeah, I guess," I mumbled.
"And plus, it's not like anyone needs to know." I frowned and Mase just shrugged. "What?"
"I think people are going to know." I spluttered out a chuckle. "Subtlety of a blow horn, remember?"
Mason's chest vibrated with a giggle. "Yeah, forgot about that."
Caring overcame his eyes, as I'm sure it had mine. One of his hands found my cheeks, where he stroked my almost dried tears away. My heart swelled.
"But for real." I rolled my lips into my mouth. "We don't need to tell anyone, Hart. It's none of their business, anyway, so why not just keep it to ourselves?"
Mason's voice sung with surety, his eyes shone with it. Some of it must have spread to me, because the longer I stood there playing with the idea in my head, the more I wanted it. Still, as much as I wished I could, I couldn't discard all my fears at once.
"I'm not going to just get over all of this in a day, Mase."
"I'm not asking you to," he replied instantly. "I'm just asking you to give us a chance."
Give us a chance.
The last few months of me and Mason flashed through my head. His comfort after the Norwich game, his encouragement after the Liverpool one. His support at St George's Park, his boldness in Bulgaria.
The hurt I'd felt when he ignored me, the care I'd felt when he needed me. The regret of Amsterdam, followed by the affection in Amsterdam.
Our dinner after the Spurs game. Our walk down the carpet. Our dance at the gala. Our first kiss.
My startling realisation in his entranceway. My booty call. My fear. And now, my decision of what our future might hold.
Was I willing to throw all of that away? Forget about everything we'd been through to get here, just because of some niggling voice in the back of my head convincing me something would go wrong?
A raindrop landed on the top of my head. Another landed on my arm. I raised my eyes to Mason's face. One plopped onto his nose.
A grin stretched my mouth as, above us, the clouds finally cracked and rain showered down. In seconds, Mason's hair plastered against his forehead. My shirt stuck to my body and goosebumps appeared on my arms and legs.
But I didn't care.
I nodded at Mason, feeling a beam take over my face. For a moment, Mason just blinked at me. But then understanding dawned on him, and his hand tightened on my shoulder and his eyes scrunched up with a smile and his eyes gleamed.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," I replied with another enthusiastic nod. "Let's give it a chance."
Mason stepped forward, his arms pulling me into his soaking body. I shut my eyes against his shoulder. For the first time in what felt like ages, everything inside me screamed that this was the right thing to do. This would work out; it had to.
I stepped back so that I could see Mason's face. Raindrops clung to his eyelashes and wet his lips. It took all my self-control not to lean up and press mine against them.
"I really want to kiss you," Mason mumbled. "But I know that would defeat the purpose of keeping this between us."
I laughed. A proper, bellyaching laugh. A laugh out of relief, and contentment, and, even if it terrified me to admit it, love.
"Later," I said, reaching up to brush his sodden hair from his face.
"Later? Is that a promise?" he asked, his grin dripping with cheek.
I rolled my eyes, but the smile I found myself unable to remove from my face told him the truth. For a moment longer, I took him in. If there was one moment from the whole day that I wanted etched in my memory, this was it.
"Come on," Mason said. "Let's get inside; it's freezing."
Before I could reply, Mason spun around and took off at a sprint to gather the balls in the net. As he fired them back at me, I loaded them into the bag. When he returned, Mason grabbed the strap and threw it over his shoulder.
"So, when you said you've liked me for a long time," he started as we took off across the pitch, "how long are we talking?"
"I didn't say that," I giggled. "I think you misheard me."
"I'm pretty sure I heard you just fine."
His other arm wrapped around my shoulder and he drew me into his side. I snaked my arm around his torso, and we continued walking together like that.
Together.
I failed to supress a smile at the thought. I guessed now I needed to get used to thinking that.