More Than a Game | Mason Mount

Forty Three

"I can't believe you actually won David's gloves."

The night drew closer to its end.  With the auction complete, the games all played, and the raffle winners finalised, all that was left was dessert and Frank's parting words.  Waiters swarmed around the tables handing out bowls of apple crumble and ice cream, even though a lot of the tables were deserted.  During the night, as the empty bottles piled up, people fled their seats for the dance floor, or the bar, or the edges of the room to talk.

Ours was certainly emptier.  Due to an early meeting the next morning, Jess had departed soon after the auction.  Fran and Guilio had disappeared into a sea of people on the dance floor a while ago, and Mason had left the table in search of a journalist he knew.  Now, I remained only with Abby, Kyle, and Natalie, the latter of whom was laughing at the pout on her boyfriend's face.

"You jinxed it, Nat," he mumbled, shaking his head.

Signed and slightly grass-stained, the pair of gloves our keeper wore during our win against Arsenal the previous season sat on the table in front of Kyle.  The Portuguese had already been to our table in a fit of giggles, and jeers had come from his table since Kyle's name was read.

"Come on, let's go dance," Natalie said, still chuckling.  "It'll make you feel better."

Kyle sighed, but allowed Natalie to pull him up by the hands.  The pair made their way towards Diego, who had started the trend of dancing and still remained thirty minutes later.  Immediately, he grabbed Natalie's hand and spun her in a dramatic circle.  Kyle's laugh reached me even from where I sat.

"So," Abby said.  From the other side of the table, she stood up and plopped into Mason's abandoned seat.  "No dancing for you?"

I shook my head.  "My legs are dead.  I swear, I feel, like, fifty years old."

"You had a tough game yesterday."

"Tell me about it."

Scanning the tables on my right, I spotted Mason sitting with his back to me, in conversation with Gary Terry, a popular pundit and ex-England defender.  Mase had won a prize in the raffle, too, although not quite one as useless as Kyle's. A beautiful bottle of South African wine sat in the middle of the table, the decorative ribbons on it almost as large as the bottle itself.

"For the next time you come over,"he'd said in my ear.  Even recalling the comment made my stomach turn.

"Beck?"

"What?"

Abby's elbow digging into my arm brought me out of my daze.  Turning away from Mason and Gary, I faced her sheepishly.

"You're really out of tonight, you know that?"

I sunk down in my seat.  "Yeah, sorry.  What did you say?"

"It's because of Mitch, isn't it?"

Taken aback, I widened my eyes.  "What do you mean?"

"You're out of it because of Mason." Abby wore a smug grin.  "And because he broke up with that God-awful Liv."

"Abby."

I gaped as she let out a cackle.  For a second, I contemplated denying her statement. But before I could, I thought back to that morning in Bulgaria and about how well she'd reacted to my troubles then. Taking a deep breath, I changed my mind.

"Yeah, actually.  I am."

Abby's grin grew, but she remained silent. Maybe it was the couple of glasses of wine speaking, but in an instant a summary of the last few weeks gushed out of my mouth.