49. Simone #2
Lydia bursts out laughing, which makes Bash laugh harder, and for a second, it’s just our little circle in the middle of all this noise.
Then chaos erupts.
Voices spike, and people start running over.
I turn, and my stomach drops when I see Mason in the middle of a crowd of players, arguing with one of them.
The guy shoves Mason hard enough that everyone around them moves.
He walks closer to the guy with this dangerous ease in his steps, chest to chest with his teammate now, helmets off, sweat shining on his forehead.
The other guy is yelling, face red, and his hands up like he wants to swing.
Someone grabs Mason’s shoulder from behind and tries to pull him back, but Mason jerks away, taking the first swing.
My heart drops, and I’m moving before I can think any better of it, but then Erik stops me, giving me a look to let them handle this.
I stop only feet from the altercation as Bash and Erik rush over.
Security starts moving in just as Bash pulls Mason off the kid and Erik steps in front of the other guy, daring him to try anything else.
The coach’s voice cuts through everything, sharp and brutal. “HEY!”
My feet start moving again, but Lydia quickly grabs my wrist. “Simone—”
“I’m just looking,” I say as I’m already pushing closer.
The guy is still talking shit just as Bash releases his hold, and Mason’s face changes instantly at whatever he said.
It’s like something in him snaps. He lunges, but more hands shoot out, stopping him.
A bunch of the other players rush over just as the coach moves in fast and smacks the back of both their heads—not hard enough to hurt them, but hard enough to embarrass them.
“Get your shit together,” he snaps. “Don’t make me bench you, Sinclair. You just got back on the field.”
Mason’s chest rises and falls like he’s trying to swallow his rage down.
Coach points at the other guy. “And you—shut your mouth. If I hear either of you bring this crap onto my field again, you’re done.”
Security steps closer. “You guys good?”
“We’re fine,” Mason says flatly.
“Fine,” the other guy echoes.
Coach stares them both down. “Practice. Tomorrow. And you better show up like men. Not like babies with fragile little egos.”
Mason turns away sharply, shoulders rigid. It makes my chest tighten because I want to walk beside him. But I don’t.
Erik and Bash lead him over to us, and my heart skips when his eyes land on me and soften, the rage simmering down, replaced with something else…something almost sad.
Erik falls in beside Mason. “What was that?”
The laugh Mason lets out is humorless. “He was talking shit. Like always.”
“About what?”
Mason’s eyes flick to me again, then away. “About the accident. About my dad getting me off and then some more colorful choice words.”
Bash shakes his head. “Why can’t people get a life? They stay stuck up your—”
He catches himself, and Mason looks over at him, smiling. “Ass?”
Bash laughs. “Yeah, basically.”
Mason shrugs like he doesn’t care. “I don’t know. I don’t know why I let it bother me so much.”
We drift toward the parking area in a loose group, the conversation getting quieter as we move away from the crowd of people.
He keeps glancing over at me, like he’s checking to see if I’m still there, or trying to get a read on me for some reason.
I try to avoid his eyes, but get caught looking at him more than I mean to.
When we get to the cars, Bash slaps Mason on the shoulder. “You played good out there. Don’t let a lowlife ruin the high from that win for you.”
“I’ll try,” he says. “Y’all heading out?”
Bash nods. “Gonna drop the girls back off at their dorm before turning in. You staying out to party tonight?”
Mason shakes his head, looking over at me. “Nah, but…um.” He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “Simone…“
My name in his mouth still does something stupid to my heart.
“Can you wait? I’ll change, grab my stuff, and then I could drive you back. I kinda…wanna talk.”
I feel everyone’s eyes on me and hate it.
Attention never bothers me, but when it’s connected to Mason, it scares the shit out of me.
Lani’s eyes go wide like she’s silently screaming at me to accept, and Lydia just watches carefully. I nod, not wanting to answer out loud, not wanting my heart to make this more than it is. Maybe he just wants to apologize and call a truce, go back to before—before we were…anything.
Mason’s shoulders drop in relief. “Okay. Give me five minutes.”
He jogs off toward the locker room area.
Lydia immediately leans over to me. “You good?”
“Yeah,” I whisper, even though my heart is now pounding. “I’m good. I’ll see y’all back at the dorm.”
They start walking off, and then it’s just me—waiting on a boy.
I sit down on the steps near the edge of the lot because standing feels too vulnerable. My legs bounce, my hands fidget, and I keep checking my phone even though there are no notifications.
This is stupid.
I should’ve just gone with the girls.
I should’ve stayed away.
I should’ve—
Mason appears, duffle bag slung over his shoulder, hair damp like he rinsed off quickly, and his sweatshirt now on instead of his jersey. He looks…tired. Not physically tired, the deeper kind.
He nods towards his car and gives me a small smile. “Come on, pretty girl.”
Stop that, heart.
He opens the passenger door before I can even round the car.
“Thanks,” I say as I slide in.
He shuts it gently and walks around, getting into the driver’s seat and starting the car.
It’s silent at first, neither of us knowing what to say or how to break the ice.
We pull out of the lot, and he keeps both hands on the wheel, his posture stiff and too controlled.
I turn my head and stare out the window so I don’t have to look at him and accidentally show how much my chest hurts right now being this close to him after so long.
“This is weird,” I blurt out before I can stop myself.
He exhales through his nose like he almost laughs. “Yeah.”
I glance at him. “So…we’re just gonna pretend you didn’t disappear on me?”
His jaw flexes, and he just nods, keeping his eyes on the road. “I did…”
I sit there, waiting for more from him.
“I’m sorry,” he says softly, glancing over at me. “I just…didn’t have any of the right things to say yet.”
I scoff. “That’s convenient.”
“I’m not trying to fight with you, Simone,” he says quietly.
I swallow my attitude down, because I’m not either. I don’t know why I’m being so hostile. I’m just annoyed and hurt. I just…miss him. And that’s the stupidest part.
We drive another block. Then, out of nowhere, he finally breaks the silence in the car. “I haven’t…drank in thirty-two days.”
I turn fully toward him, confused. “What?”
His eyes stay on the road. “Thirty-two days. No alcohol.”
I’m stunned for a moment, just stuck there staring at him. I don’t know what expression is on my face right now, but it makes him brace a little.
“I’m not saying it to get any points here,” he adds. “I just…I wanted you to know.”
My throat feels thick. “Why thirty-two?”
He looks over at me when he pulls up to one of the campus’s stop signs. “Because I couldn’t stop thinking about that Halloween party, about you, about my brothers…about everything I don’t want to lose. And winter break gave me the perfect opportunity to do something about that.”
It clicks in my brain. When he got close to me tonight, when he got in the car, I didn’t smell any alcohol like I normally do around him. I just…I just thought it was because it was game night. But there’s never been a night he hasn’t reeked of some kind of liquor.
I knew something was different. I just…didn’t expect that.
He’s actually sober?
And partly for…me?
I stare at him as the streetlights flash over his profile. He looks so raw, nothing like what I’m used to seeing. He’s not wearing the masks he always keeps on around everyone. He just looks like the little boy inside him who’s always begged to be acknowledged.
“I didn’t stop because I was strong,” he says, his voice a little rougher now. “I stopped because I was starting to scare myself.”
I whisper, “How?”
“I was starting to reach the point where I knew I wouldn’t come back from, where everything I cared about was slowly slipping from my grasp. I knew I was going to lose everything if I didn’t stop.”
I stare at him, lost for words. So proud of him, yet so sad he didn’t reach out.
“The withdrawals were hell,” he continues. “My body was constantly crawling, the nightmares were awful, and I never felt like I could get settled, no matter what I tried.”
My heart hurts for him, and it’s so desperate to be what fixes him. “You did that alone?”
His fingers tighten on the wheel. “Yeah.”
A part of me wants to scream at him. You should’ve called me. You should’ve told me. You didn’t have to do it alone. But the other part of me is quiet, because I know. I know he didn’t because he didn’t want to be seen like that; he still doesn’t know how to let himself be helped or held.
“You were sober at home…all break…around your dad?” I ask softly. “How was that?”
He swallows. “Bad.”
“Bad how?”
He hesitates. “I found out something and kind of went off on him.” A small grin appears on his face, and it confuses me at first. “Then I took a bat to his office building.”
My mouth gapes open. “You didn’t?”
His grin gets bigger, like he’s proud of himself. “I did.”
I hit him lightly on the arm. “Good for you. Wait, did you get in trouble?”
It looks like he thinks about it for a moment before answering. “Nope.”
Silence takes over as his face gets serious again. His voice is softer now. “I’ve been trying. I’m trying to—” He exhales. “I don’t even know what I’m trying to be…just…better, I guess.”