More Than a Game | Mason Mount

Forty Six (and A/N)

Cobham was practically empty as I drove in the next morning.  Stu had set up an extra early appointment to suss out the damage to my wrist and assess what I'd be able to do until it started to heal.  The only other cars in the parking lot belonged to some of the backroom staff and, right in front of the entrance stood Frank's car.

By the time I headed back up from the medical rooms, the building hummed with activity.  Music blasted from the changing room and the sounds of cutlery on plates and laughter echoed through the corridor I walked down.  In a meeting room to my right, Frank motioned vividly to Jody and the other coaches, a diagram drawn on the whiteboard behind him. The distraction of his gala was clearly out of everyone's minds: with Burnley away on the weekend and a cup game tomorrow, it needed to be.

In the canteen, players and staff roamed around making coffee or eating breakfast.  A group of my teammates huddled around a table looking at a laptop and what I guessed were pictures from Sunday night, but I veered away from them and towards the table where Abby sat alone, a plate of eggs and bacon her only company.

After the semi-awkward ride home with Mason, I'd tried to call her.  She didn't answer then, nor did she answer later in the day when I sent her a message. Now, though, she shot me a smile and waved.

"Becks, hey!" she greeted as I took the seat next to her.

"Hey, Abs," I replied with a frown.  "You good?"

She finished the mouthful she'd just taken and nodded.  "Yeah, sorry about not replying to you yesterday.  Just ended up being one of those hectic days, you know?"

I still kept my eyebrows lowered, not convinced that she was really as chilled as she was letting on.  "So you're okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, all good."  She waved me off, and before I had a chance to reply, carried on speaking.  "How was the rest of your night?  I saw some interesting pictures on Twitter."

"God, did the whole world see those?" I mumbled, shaking my head.

Abby chuckled.  "Everyone that matters, yeah."

"I need some coffee."

With a sigh, I stood up and made my way over to the coffee machine.  I waved at Kyle, who was one of the groupies surrounding the laptop, while I waited for the machine to warm up.  Turning my head, I stared out into the corridor for a moment, letting my mind drift. Was everyone behind that screen staring at pictures of Mason and me?  Did they all assume the same things Kyle had the previous morning?

As much as I'd tried to avoid it yesterday, curiosity drew me to social media.  Just as Kyle and Natalie had said, my notifications were spammed with pictures from the gala.  Mason with his arm around me on the carpet.  Mason escorting me to Frank and Christine.  Me laughing at Mason.  The two of us dancing together.  The two of us leaving together, Kyle and Natalie out of the frame.

I'd grown more and more panicked with each new picture, until one caught my attention.  It was from when we'd walked the carpet, at a point where Mason had clearly made a side comment.  We stood facing each other, smiling.  But there was something more in both of our expressions; in the way we looked at each other.  It was the same way he'd looked at me while we danced, the same way he'd looked at me in his entrance way.  I was almost certain it was the same way I'd been looking at him since he told me he broke up with Liv.

The same thought of maybe things will be okay entered my mind when I saw that picture, and miraculously, it overruled the apprehension in my chest now as I imagined the pictures the team saw.

A figure passed by the doorway outside in the corridor, bringing me out of my daze.  I didn't think anything of it, assuming it was another player arriving and making their way to the changing room, until Mason's familiar voice forced me to look up.