CHAPTER 14
casey
O h my gosh, you are so cute,” I gush as Harrison slides into the front seat of my car, kit out in an England team jersey. His long legs are clad in black jeans which he folds into the footwell of my Range Rover.
“Cute?” he huffs.
“Mmm, maybe we can find one of those kids’ face painters,” I suggest. “Get some red and white stripes painted on your cheeks.” I press my finger into his dimple.
He bats my hand away. He’s nothing if not reliable is my Harrison.
He leans down to move my gear out of his way which is when I spy the name emblazoned on the back of his jersey.
“Howard?” I ask, shifting uncomfortably in my seat. “Why are you wearing Howard’s jersey?”
“Oh um,” Harrison replies, sitting up straighter in his seat. “That’s um, Xavier’s name. He’s the guy who got us the tickets.”
“Oh,” I reply, starting the ignition. “Didn’t realise you were such a huge fan.”
“I mean, he’s a good friend is all. He plays for Tottenham, and we met while I worked there. He gave me this jersey before I left London,” Harrison says, picking at a frayed edge on his jeans.
“So if I gave you a Fever jersey with my name on it, would you wear it?” I don’t know why I’m being so huffy about this but it just kind of irks me, seeing Harrison wearing some random guy’s name. He’s my best friend.
“Do you want me to wear your name, Case?” he returns. I feel his eyes on me but it’s my turn to look away now as I pretend to focus on the traffic which is admittedly pretty minimal on the back streets around Harrison’s apartment.
“Only if you want to,” I huff. “Not like I’m going to beg you or anything. That seems a little desperate.”
“I think I’m required to wear the Fever physio polo to games but if you want to give me a jersey I’ll wear it around the house.”
“Really?” I ask, pretending the thought of Harrison wearing my name doesn’t make me happy.
“Course.” I indicate to bring the car onto the busy main road, sucking in the smile that suddenly wants to take over my face.
Take that, Howard.
I do my best to ignore the name on the back of Harrison’s jersey, but its presence continues to bug me.
I already Googled Xavier Howard when Harrison first mentioned the game and, yeah, he’s a good player alright?
I mean, I guess he’d have to be to make it to the English national squad but still, he comes across as a little too showy for me.
But he gave us these tickets, so I guess I’ll have to just try and be grateful for them.
The game is being played at Stadium Australia which is where a lot of Sydney’s rugby matches are held. The pitch is rectangular in shape unlike most of our oval cricket and Australian football grounds so it’s an easy fit for a soccer match.
Harrison managed to score an entire row of tickets and most of the guys are here already as we squeeze past Ben McLean and his cute little five-year-old son, Archie, to sit beside Sonny and Izak.
James Langton and his wife, Katie, are on Harrison’s other side, while the rest of the row is taken up by a mix of teammates and support staff.
Coach is at the far end, already sipping on a plastic cup of low strength beer.
We’re in the midst of a sea of England supporters which is not entirely surprising given they make up a large pool of the migrant mix in Australia. Never have met a Belarussian in real life but I see a few fans waving the red and green flag throughout the crowd.
“How do they figure Sydney’s a more neutral territory?” Harrison poses, eyes thoughtful as the England crowd start up a rousing rendition of Sweet Caroline . “I mean, England and Australia share the same king. Kind of feels less neutral than Switzerland to me.”
“Yeah, but the whole monarchy thing is purely symbolic these days,” I shrug. “Sorry to disappoint. I know how much you adore the royal pomp and circumstance.”
He chuckles, soft and low. “I don’t know what kind of fantasy land you’ve made up in your head there, Case. It’s kind of cute though. Don’t let me stop you with anything like history or facts.”
“Well if you want facts let me assure you that whilst Australia and England might be the best of buds geopolitically speaking, on the sports field we are mortal enemies. Mortal . We enjoy nothing better than taking down the old enemy.”
“You Australians are the weirdest bunch with your unhealthy obsession with sport. Even poor old New Zealand, a population a fraction of the size of Australia, doesn’t get any concessions.”
“Look, off the field we love the Kiwis to the death. They’re like our little brother who we love to tease but nobody else is allowed to. But we still love beating them on the sporting field as much as we do the Brits.”
“So, basically you love beating your best friends?”
“Well, I guess that’s one way of looking at it. Don’t think we consider you best friends when we’re facing off against you though.”
“I can’t wait for cricket season.”
“We are definitely going to watch a game together,” I grin, linking my arm through Harrison’s elbow.
His dimple is out on show for me, and I think about poking it again but then I’d have to unlink our arms and I kind of like how we’re sitting.
So I let it go and he doesn’t move either until suddenly Three Lions starts playing over the stadium speakers and the England team are running out onto the pitch.
Harrison suddenly becomes an excited fanboy which would be adorable if he didn’t clutch my arm and point out Xavier Howard, like he’s something extra special.
I mean, he doesn’t look like anything overly amazing to me as he runs out in his white England top and navy shorts.
And yes okay, the guy is extremely fit and even I can see the impressive shape of his calf muscles, but I haven’t seen him play yet.
He might be hopeless for all I know.
***
Xavier Howard is not hopeless. It kind of pains me to say but he’s the best player on the field in England’s cruisy 3-1 win over Belarus.
Xavier even kicked England’s first goal of the night in a cross that was worthy of David Beckham, and Harrison jumped up and down beside me like he’d won the bloody lottery.
Now we’re sitting in the England player’s lounge, drinking the far better beer that is served in here than the dishwater out in the stadium, and waiting for the players to arrive.
Me? I’d be happy to just go home right now, take Harrison with me and maybe see if I can convince him to come for a swim.
He’ll be tired from the day so maybe he can just crash the night too.
Would make tomorrow’s dawn Pilates session easier to get to.
But no, Harrison is still giddy with excitement and the thought of taking him away from here makes me feel like the worst best friend on the planet. So I endure.
Sonny and Izak are here too and several of the other guys are around. The coaching staff all went home after the game and Ben McLean left with his very tired little boy straight after the final whistle.
It was amusing to see that the presence of the East Coast Fever at the game caused such a stir of interest. Our faces made it up on the broadcast frequently throughout the night, mine especially, which meant Harrison featured quite prominently too.
His phone has been lighting up ever since so I imagine it was noticed back home.
Suddenly there is commotion near the doors and the players start making their way through to the lounge accompanied by a round of cheers and claps.
Harrison perks up, eyes pinging through the players until they suddenly light up as Xavier steps into view and it only takes a moment for him to beeline for our booth.
Harrison is on his feet in an instant, Xavier pulling him into a bone crunching hug that is highly inappropriate for a physiotherapist who relies on his musculature for his job. Does the man have no respect?
“Xavi,” Harrison enthuses.
“Thorny,” Xavier replies. Sorry, what? Thorny? What kind of a nickname is that? A stupid one, that’s what it is.
“Guys,” Harrison beams, Xavier’s arm twisted over his shoulder, “This is Xavier. Xavi, this is Sonny, Izak and Casey.”
Xavier smiles at each of us, holding out his hand to shake each of us in turn. I’m not rude so I shake his hand even though it would be a lot easier to reach if he wasn’t so committed to holding onto Harrison’s shoulders.
“Casey? I’ve heard about you,” Xavier grins.
“Have you?” I ask.
“Yeah. This one told me all about you,” he continues, knocking his head in Harrison’s direction.
“Did he?”
“You played awesome, man,” Sonny cuts in, his tone a little too gushing. Have some self-respect, Sonny boy. You’re an elite athlete too.
“Yeah, seriously that goal was incredible,” Izak enthuses, eyes bright.
“Did you like it?” Xavier asks, eyes on Harrison. Maybe I should buy him a fishing rod so he can use it to reel in more compliments.
“What do you reckon?” he returns with a cute eyeroll, bumping his shoulder onto Xavier’s chest. They share a grin, and I feel something clench inside.
“Anyone want another beer?” I say, leaving the booth before anyone can reply.
I think I hear a few yeses follow me so I make my way to the bar and begrudgingly order five beers.
Would look a little petty to not bring back a beer for the star player of the night.
Even though he probably earns more than the entire Fever’s salary cap combined.
Everyone’s all snug and cosy when I return with the beers, balancing all five in my arms. Harrison and Xavier have squeezed in beside Izak, leaving no space between them. I slot back in beside Sonny who thanks me for the beer.
Xavier and Harrison are still talking animatedly about the game, no room for anyone else to get a word in as I huff out a breath and sip on my beer.
“You okay?” Sonny asks, voice low just for me.
“Course. Why would I not be?”
“Just, you seem a bit … put out.”
“In your head, Sonny boy,” I reply, taking another sip from my beer. “I am perfectly fine.”
“So, Casey,” Xavier suddenly says, eyes trained on me. “He’s pretty great, isn’t he?” He knocks his head at Harrison, that arm going back around his shoulders. Seriously, leave the guy alone.
“Harry? Yeah, he’s awesome,” I shrug.
“I honestly would not be where I am without this guy,” Xavier adds, sharing another super special smile with my physio. “Got me back up on my feet after a severe case of achilles tendonitis. Docs had almost given up on me. All I can say is I wouldn’t be here without him.”
“I did my achilles once in high school. That shit hurts,” Izak says, sympathy on his face.
“Yeah, Harrison’s working on a special treatment program with me,” I cut in, ignoring Izak’s comment. “We spend a lot of time together. A lot .”
“I bet,” Xavier smiles at me. “Just do whatever he says. That’s what worked for me. Guy’s a genius.”
“I’m not a genius,” Harrison chuffs, shaking his head.
“No, you are,” I cut in, wanting him to look at me with that soft smile.
“I reckon sports players would think anyone who fixed them was a miracle worker,” Harrison protests. “I assure you I’m nothing special.”
“Nothing special,” Xavier scoffs. I kind of wish I’d scoffed first. “I can’t wait until your year is up and you’re back home with us at the Hot Spurs. We’re definitely going to miss you. Me especially.”
“Maybe he’ll love it here so much he won’t want to go back,” I return, forcing a smile on my face. It hadn’t even occurred to me that Harrison is only a short-term stint at the Fever. A bolt of panic slices through me at the thought.
“We’ll fight you for him,” Xavier retorts.
“Game on,” I return.
Harrison watches our discourse like a spectator before he lets out a nervous chuckle. “Do professional athletes get white line fever over everything? Seems you can turn anything into a competition.”
“That’s us,” Sonny chuckles, kneeing me in the thigh under the table. “We’ll compete over just about anything.”
Xavier eyes me over the table as he takes a sip of his drink, tightening his arm around Harrison’s shoulders unnecessarily.
But Sonny’s prompt has quietened me down and I sit silently as other players arrive at our booth and Harrison starts fanboying over them too.
I mean, possibly slightly less enthusiastically than he was fanboying over Xavier but still, it’s fun to watch him get so excited about athletes when he works in a profession that means he’s surrounded by them.
Harrison knows a few of the other players and some of the support staff so he’s quickly subsumed in the crowd, Xavier Howard always at his side.
I’m gritting my teeth when Sonny starts mentioning it’s time for them to leave.
We have an early morning Captain’s run tomorrow and we’ve already stayed out later than we should have.
I hug Sonny and Izak goodbye and then hover near the bar where Harrison is talking, eyes lit up. He’s at home here, amongst his people and the sport he truly loves. I feel like an outsider looking in and something fractures just ever so slightly inside.
I pick my way through the crowd towards him. He stops midsentence as I arrive at his side, dimple out in force as he smiles at me.
“Hey, I’m going to get going,” I tell him.
“Oh,” Harrison says, looking back at the guy he’s talking with.
“You can stay,” I add in a rush. “But I have training early in the morning and stuff so …”
I can see Harrison’s torn, face unsure as he looks between me and the other guy. I make his mind up for him.
“I’ll see you later at the club tomorrow? After training?”
“Yeah, okay. As long as you don’t mind,” he replies, face still hesitant.
“Course, you stay and have fun.”
“Yeah, alright then. Seeya tomorrow, Case.”
And with that I turn and leave the room, ignoring Xavier Howard’s slightly smug grin as I leave Harrison behind.
This night feels like it didn’t turn out quite how I expected it to, and I can’t quite work out why.