More Than a Game | Mason Mount

Twenty Two

An hour later, things were looking up.  I'd been patched up, the startlingly large cut above my eye treated with a single stich.  I'd been cleared of a concussion, told that I needed a day's rest and I would be right as rain.  I'd been given some pain pills, which had certainly taken the edge off.  Now I lay with an icepack held to my head, on the verge of drifting off to sleep.

A knock at the door woke me up from a nap I wasn't aware I was having.  I inched to a sitting position, looking to my left.  My blood ran cold as I saw Lance standing at the doorway, a sorrowful expression on his face.

"Hey," he greeted.  I didn't reply, instead just glared at him.  He cleared his throat.  "I'm so sorry, Beck, seriously.  I didn't mean to hit you at all... obviously."  He attempted a chuckle, but my sense of humour was gone.  "Look, it was an accident and I feel horrible about it."

"Kind of ironic," I mumbled.  "You know, how you have it out for me and then you hit me over the head with a weight."

His face fell, but only for a moment.  "I don't have it out for you."

"Bullshit."  Lying back down, I stared at the ceiling.  "Look, the least you can do is admit it, Lance."

"What are you—"

"I get this was an accident and I appreciate the apology, but you're a dick to me and you know it."

The confession startled me.  I hadn't been expecting to say anything to Lance – at any stage – but this accident, if I was willing to call it that, had pushed me over the edge.  Lance hated me, Lance was rude to me, Lance was rude to Mason, Lance hit me over the head with a weight, and Lance needed to know I was sick of his shit.

When he didn't speak for a while, I assumed he'd left.  But then I heard the sound of a chair pulling up next to me.  I resisted the urge to groan out loud.

"I won't lie and say you're my favourite person here, Rebecca."  I tried to hold back my scoff, but it sounded anyway.  "You told me to admit it," he added with a sneer.

I chose not to reply.  Instead, I just shut my eyes and returned the icepack to my head, intent on ignoring my teammate until he decided to leave.  He clearly didn't get the message, though, because he carried on speaking.

"You're a great player; I'm not about to deny that."  The compliment should have made me feel better, but it just got under my skin more. "I respect you as a footballer. Why does it matter how I feel about you personally?"

"I couldn't care less how you feel about me personally," I laughed incredulously.  "You just can't say you respect me as a footballer if you're constantly rude to me, even on the pitch."

"Whoa, who says I'm rude to you on the pitch?"

"So you admit you're rude to me off it?"

I shouldn't have been amused given the seriousness of the conversation, but Lance's ridiculousness made me chuckle despite myself.  I sat up, wanting to see his smug expression disappear.  He rolled his eyes at me and didn't say anything, to my satisfaction.

"Why do you have it out for me, huh?" I asked, surprising myself with the question.  I had my suspicions, a lot of them to do with Mason, but I wanted to hear first hand from Lance the reason for his grudge against me.  "Is it because I'm a girl?"

I knew the comment would throw him, and it did. "Absolutely not, Beck; don't say things like that."  His face was unpredictably sombre.

"Okay, then is it about Mason?" I asked bravely.

I didn't necessarily feel the urge to make Lance like me, but I knew that if I wanted him to stop treating me badly I needed to get to the bottom of his issue with me.  Upon hearing Mason's name, Lance's jaw stiffened.  I knew I'd clearly hit a soft spot, whether he was willing to declare it or not.