𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓, 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭

THREE

"Shit- I am so sorry!"

"It's fine."

"Let me help you."

Berkley stopped herself from grunting and rolling her eyes as she shook her head, eyes focused on her now damp black dress. "It's fine- really."

She could faintly see from her peripherals two more boys approaching her as she held the tightly sealed water bottle in one hand and squeezed out her skirt in the other.

"Sorry about that," she heard a more familiar accent speak, "my man can't catch."

"I play soccer, not football," an American accent shot back before another, different, British one countered.

"You do play football mate," he grumbled, "this is why we don't throw water bottles around."

Berkley sighed as she tried to ignore the three boys crowding her, making the situation a lot worse than it needed to be. She felt surrounded. Her breathing picked up and it was becoming more and more difficult to not become irritated. Berkley let out a deep sigh before she finally looked up, meeting three very apologetic eyes. "Who's water bottle was this?" She spoke dully.

"Mine. Sorry."

Berkley eyes suddenly met Mason's as he stepped forward from where he was slightly cowering behind Ben and Christian's shoulders. Her gaze softened upon seeing his face, a manner not going unnoticed by the footballer's two counterparts. Berkley couldn't help but hold her breath as Mason gave her a soft smile.

"Here," she said, handing him back the bottle.

"Thanks," he chuckled nervously. He tried his best to not make his rigid breathing too obvious, "sorry again. These twats wouldn't give it back."

There was something about the way Mason was looking at her that made her heart flutter in ways it never has before. His eyes were soft yet still sunk so deeply that she felt she could get lost if she didn't look away the next second. It was the footballer effect her mother always told her about.

"Right well-" Berkley cleared her throat, pressing her lips into a small smile before nodding. "If you excuse me, I'm gonna go clean myself up somewhere upstairs..." she said, slowly stepping away from the three boys as she gave them a curt wave. The more steps she took walking away, the more she felt at ease. She didn't like being surrounded while she was in this state, or at all anymore for that matter.

Ben and Christian looked at each other as the girl slipped away from their presence. They gave one another a shared gaze before nodding. Mason was much too preoccupied glumly watching her walk away to realise his friends grasps on his shoulders before they pushed him in her direction; and before he knew it, he was off running up the stairs behind her.

He watched as she slowly walked towards a shut door she assumed to be the bathroom. "Wait!" He called out to her, rushing to her side to stop her from opening the door. He knew that there must've been at least two or three people snogging in there already and that would've just ruined her night more than he already had. "Just- follow me."

Berkley stared at him, her eyebrows knitted together as he gave her a soft look. She trusted him, oddly enough, and willingly followed him as he led her down the long hallway before coming to a room at the very end.

Mason felt his guilt at the bottom of his chest, hoping to make it up to the girl trailing behind him. He felt as though he just messed up his one chance to make a good impression on the prettiest girl he has arguably ever laid his eyes on.

"I'm Mason by the way," he told her, looking back over his shoulder for a minute before slowing his pace so she was walking at his side. "Mason Mount."

"I know," she said. He leaned down slightly to hear her speak over the loud music blasting through the house. "You play football, right? Chelsea?"