CHAPTER 19
casey
T he thing about an overactive mind is that until a new concept or idea settles itself in there it tends to float around in perpetuity. Although float is not the right adjective here. It’s more like a bounce because it tends to jolt itself into my consciousness at various random moments.
Take Harrison’s news for instance. It’s still occupying all of the grey foggy zone in my head and that means I haven’t processed it or come to terms with it yet. Which also means I am thinking about it.
Constantly.
I’ve been on this treadmill, running with my thoughts, for way too long and I want to get off.
But Harrison has just walked into the training room and now I don’t know what to do.
His eyes briefly meet mine before he falls back into conversation with Ben McLean.
They have a folder each and are going through their physio notes but for some reason, my heart has clenched up in my chest.
I don’t know why I’m grappling with this news so much. This news about Harrison. My Harrison. Well, I thought he was my Harrison but maybe I was wrong about that. Best friends tell each other things like this, right?
Except, he was so very sincere and so worried and concerned about how hurt I was on Saturday night when I found him at the bar in a very compromising position. With a guy. A guy he clearly liked. A guy he was definitely thinking about hooking up with.
And would have done if I hadn’t had my embarrassing little melt down and pulled him away. It’s not lost on me that he gave up a night of sex. For me.
How had I not noticed before? I mean, I know I can be oblivious.
And I know that my obsessive mind means I fixate on the wrong things sometimes.
Things like pursuing Harrison until he became my best, best friend.
Even if maybe that’s not what he ever wanted from me.
And maybe that’s not really, truly what I wanted either.
My chest tightens again as his gaze passes over me but doesn’t settle. It’s strange. We always seek each other out in crowded rooms but everything feels different now.
I can’t stop thinking about that guy at the bar.
Is he Harrison’s type? Do guys always hit on Harrison and I just haven’t noticed?
Oh shit. Andy our Pilates guy was definitely hitting on Harrison that time.
I thought he was just being professionally friendly, but he was clearly trying to get in my best friend’s pants the whole time.
And, oh sweet Lord of mercy, have they been fucking this whole time?
I mean, Harrison took his number. Maybe they’ve been secretly banging this whole entire time.
Behind my back. And then there’s Xavier Howard.
There was definitely something between them…
oh my word. Did they hookup that night of the game?
Is that why Harrison was weird with me the next day?
I feel sick and dizzy and hit the stop button on my treadmill just as Sonny steps into the room, eyes on me. I know that look in his eye and even though I feel like I’m about to throw up I also know I’m never standing down from a challenge.
Sonny swaggers towards me, stripping off his shirt as he steps onto the treadmill beside me, a challenge in his eyes.
I blow out a breath and shed my own shirt as I nod at him.
I feel Harrison’s eyes on me, the way his gaze flickers down my naked chest and …
huh. I never noticed that before. I mean, yeah I’ve noticed him look at me but I think I thought it was out of medical interest rather than anything … else.
Maybe it is just medical interest. Fuck .
Sonny hits the start button and the two of us suddenly go full throttle to try and outpace the other.
Athletes and white line fever are a real thing but throw in my personality type and it’s a whole other ball game.
We settle into a rhythm, my mind clouding over and forcing out the pain that is buzzing under the surface, eyes on the prize.
“So what’s the deal with you and Harrison?” Sonny throws down without any warning. He’s hardly out of breath even though he’s running at full pace, and I feel my gut bottom out of me at his question.
“What do you mean? What deal? There’s no deal,” I stammer.
“You sure about that? Nothing happened on the Goldie?”
“No nothing happened. And what are you actually getting at here?” I’m pretty sure there’s a surge of panic in my gut too but I’m pretending as well as Sonny that it’s nothing.
“You know what I’m getting at, Calloway,” Sonny says, pinning me with a pointed look.
“But … but how do you know about Harrison?” I ask. Because how the hell does Sonny know something about my best friend that I only found out two days ago?
“I know because I actually observe, Callie. With my own two eyes.”
“Really? Like what? Observe what?”
Sonny shrugs like we’re talking about nothing instead of the most important thing in the world. “I just picked up on things. Specifically how he is with … certain people. And how he looks at … certain people.” Those words hit me like a punch in the gut, clawing at me with their venom.
“Who? Who does he look at? Tell me, Sonny.” Yeah, I sound desperate, but Sonny can’t just drop something like that on me and not explain.
He sighs dramatically, swiping at a drop of sweat on his forehead. “Seriously Casey, are you that oblivious. You, idiot. He looks at you .”
Something surges through me at Sonny’s words, a palpable whoosh of heat that nearly knocks me off my feet. My eyes instantly flick up to Harrison and his head of gorgeous curls bent towards Ben. A trickle of silvery heat climbs down my spine.
But Sonny is not done with me quite just yet. He continues. “And I don’t mean this unkindly, bro, but you give off some seriously mixed signals to him. And Harrison is a really nice guy and I feel like, well, I wasn’t kidding when I said you two act like a married couple.”
“What do you mean, mixed signals?” I rasp, my mind rapidly flickering through every single interaction I’ve ever had with Harrison. I don’t give off mixed signals. Me? How absurd.
Only thing is, the more I think about it, the more I realise it might be just slightly, ever so possibly, just a little bit true.
I mean, I share a bed with the guy on the regular.
I swan around naked in front of him. I watch sexy TV shows with him with my hand down my pants.
We cuddle. A lot. I am weirdly possessive of him, in ways that I’m not with any other friends.
I really do give Harrison mixed signals.
Shit.
Sonny hasn’t answered as I stab at the stop button, slowing to a walk before I send him a pitiful look.
“I didn’t know. What do I do, Sonny?” I splutter, gasping down air into my rapidly constricting airways. Sonny hops off the treadmill, towelling the sweat off his shoulders as he eyes me, expression serious.
“Honestly, Callie? I reckon you’ve got two options at this point. Either fuck him already … or leave the guy alone.”
And with that little grenade thrown down to blow up my entire life, Sonny walks away with not even a backwards glance, leaving me utterly reeling.
Of course, Harrison chooses that moment to look up at me and I stumble on the end of the treadmill, just managing to save myself from face planting the floor.
Cheeks red, I pull myself up, feeling like a ship untethered in a storm.
“Casey? Are you alright?” I hear from beside me. Because of course he’s there. That’s what Harrison does—cares for me. Cares enough to rush over to this corner of the training room to make sure I’m okay.
And the way he’s looking at me? With hesitation and uncertainty instead of ease and affection? Well, that’s enough to have me stumbling back another step, heart in my throat.
“Me? Yeah, yep, no probs at all,” I stammer, taking another step back from him. I don’t miss the frown between his eyes, and I hate that I put it there, but I honestly feel like I’m about to lose control of myself and I don’t want to put that on him.
So I take another step back, then another until a few feet of necessary space separates me from Harrison.
“I gotta run,” I say, dropping my eyes and turning tail. Maybe I’m a coward but I do know my limits and I know I’ve reached them. I feel Harrison’s eyes burning into my back as I hightail it for the locker room, but I don’t look back.
My pace is brisk until I’m alone in the locker room, squeezing into a private cubicle and locking the door closed behind me. I gasp in a lungful of air, resting my head against the wall as I try to calm my still racing heart.
Two options.
That’s what Sonny gave me. Two different paths set before me to navigate.
But I already know that option two is off the table.
The mere thought of leaving Harrison alone makes my knees want to give out on me and crumble to the floor in the foetal position.
There’s just no possible way I can leave him now, not when he means so very much to me.
But then … that leaves door number one. Endorphins flood my system, chasing away the sense of dread door number two had left in its wake until I am feeling like I can stand without falling again.
Could I? Could I honestly walk through door number one … and all it entails? My mind explodes with doubts and possibilities, too many thoughts to latch onto to make sense of any one of them.
Could I walk through that door with Harrison?
But as I stand there in that tiny cubicle, mind spiralling out of control, the one thing it settles on is the realisation that maybe, just maybe, that’s the door I’ve been inching towards all along, without even realising it.
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