CHAPTER 29
harrison
O h boy. This rollercoaster has not stopped, collecting the two of us in its wake and spinning ahead of us out of control. I can’t stop it. I don’t think I want to stop it. I’m pretty sure I’ve felt like I’ve been in love with a boy or two before, but I’ve never been in love like this.
Casey Calloway is everything I shouldn’t want but boy do I want him. I want everything about him, and I love him all just as much. And now he’s just casually asked me to move in with him and I want it so much it hurts.
Only, how do I tell him this relationship has an expiration date?
None of this is simple. I’m still technically employed by Tottenham, here in Sydney on a twelve-month secondment.
I’ve been over my contract with the Fever with a fine toothcomb and cannot see any way around the glaring non-compete clause which prohibits the Fever from employing me even if they wanted to.
And Casey leaving Australia is out of the question. He needs to be here, and I would never let him leave the game for me. Not in a million years.
I shove those messy thoughts aside and leave them to sit with for another day. I still have time to be with Casey and I’m going to milk every last second of it. I just don’t know if moving in with him is the best use of that time, whether it would just heighten the pain when our time is up.
Still, I am far from surprised by the four a.m. wakeup call that follows not long after my talk with my parents. I don’t even need to check the display to know who it is. The extremely impolite hour of the call is enough of a tip off.
“Henrietta,” I sigh, voice scratchy from the pre-dawn hour.
“What is the one thing I said to you as I kissed your gorgeous, silly head goodbye at Heathrow in March?” she demands, no time for niceties.
“Heni, it’s four a.m. In the morning ,” I sigh.
“The one thing, Harrison. Stop deflecting. I know you remember.”
I let out the most long-suffering sigh of my life and tip my head back.
Casey is sprawled out beside me, still in a restful dream state and I envy him for a brief moment before I haul the comfortable sheets off me and step out of the bedroom.
I probably would have preferred this conversation with my sister whilst not being naked but anyway.
“You’ll have to remind me. I don’t recall. Especially not at four a.m. In the morning .”
“Don’t give me that innocent act, Harrison James Thornfield. You remember exactly what I said,” she says. It’s kind of impressive the way I can picture the precise way she will be glaring at me, even over the distance of ten thousand miles.
“Something about keeping hydrated on the long-haul flight?” I mull, just to annoy her. I remember her words. We both do.
“Do not play games with me young man,” she returns with a huff.
“Heni, do I need to remind you that you are not my mother, and I am, in fact, a perfectly functioning adult man?”
“Tell me what I said, Harrison Thornfield.”
I decide to stop toying with her, pausing before I say, “You told me not to fall in love with an Australian man.”
“And what have you done?”
I sigh. “Fallen in love with an Australian man.”
Henrietta sighs in a way that even Casey would approve.
“I knew this was going to happen. I just knew it. You’re far too pretty for your own good, baby brother.
Well, Charles is going to be devastated.
There’s no way around that. How am I supposed to break the news to him that his boyfriend has moved on?
Huh? Harrison? Just promise me it’s not one of your footballers at least.”
I say nothing, silence confirmation enough.
“Harrison? Tell me it’s not one of your footballers.”
“It’s not a footballer?” I repeat, posing it as a question.
“I cannot bloody believe this. Harr-i-son,” she whines, worthy of a toddler. “Sydney is an entire hemisphere away. You can’t fall in love with someone who is going to keep you so far away from me.”
Ah. There’s the truth of the matter come out in an extremely roundabout way. Her sincerity makes me soften.
“I know, Heni. I get it. I do. It’s all kind of just a bit of a mess anyway. It’s not like I can stay here after my visa expires either so ...”
She must pick up on the quiet devastation in my words because all the ire instantly drops from her tone. “Oh Harrison. What are we going to do? You really love him, huh? Is it Casey?”
“Yeah, it’s Casey. And yeah, I really love him.”
“Well, we can’t have my baby brother wallowing in heartache all on his lonesome on the other side of the planet.”
“No, we really don’t want that,” I agree.
I curl up on the bed in Casey’s guest room, the room that used to be mine before I upgraded to the master.
I pull the blanket over me as I settle in for an unexpected but probably necessary heart to heart with my older sister who makes me feel just a tad less hopeless about my situation.
***
I manage to avoid giving Casey an answer on that question, the one he dropped oh-so casually, but I know it’s there in the background, an ever-present distraction for both of us.
A week with a footballer begins and ends with match day and everything else falls into preparation or recovery.
That old cliché of one week at a time is a really neat summary of how the club truly operates.
Last week we focused on hosting the Melbourne Magic at the Fever Pitch, a game the Fever win.
The week after that is a trip up north to Brisbane to take on the Moreton Bay Stingrays which the Fever narrowly lose.
In the midst of all the preparation and recovery are the spaces Casey and I carve out for ourselves.
I love being with him. I love cooking together in his kitchen or mine where I cook and he distracts but he does it so sweetly and innocently that I can only smile.
And I love curling up on the sofa with him or taking a naked swim in his heated pool.
And I love meeting up with Sonny and Izak and some of the other boys too where we remind ourselves there is more to life than just each other.
And I love when we’re alone together and we can explore each other with the touch of our hands or the kiss of our mouths, where we can occupy each other completely and totally. I understand Casey’s addictions because I feel the same way about him.
It’s after the Fever’s big win against the Portsea Pirates at home that we decide to join the post-match celebrations.
Casey was instrumental in the win, and I want to see him enjoy the victory and spend it with his teammates.
His absences are generally noticed during those times we’ve chosen to celebrate in private, and I don’t want him to miss out on those special moments with this new, emerging team.
We find our way to the Echo Chamber, a very cool but very hetero club in inner Sydney.
There’s a lot of people around and many of them seem to recognise the Fever players as we climb out of the Uber we took here with Sonny and Izak.
I’ve noticed an uptick in recognition of the players when we’re out.
It’s nothing like what happens on road trips to the southern and western states but it’s enough that tells me the Fever buzz is catching.
Casey is pure heat as he winds his way to the dance floor, his natural energy a perfect match for the vibe of this club.
I just sit back and watch until he shoots me that look and I know where I’d rather be.
I dance beside him, careful not to touch too much or look too long.
There are eyes everywhere tonight and most of them are on the boy dancing at my side.
We make our way back to the table the team has claimed, and the boys do a round of shots while I just watch on.
I know I’m going home with Casey tonight so I’m less impatient than I used to be at these types of things but I’m starting to feel it again now, this need to get him out of here and alone.
He takes the hint when he subtly nods towards the exit, and I nod back.
I head there first, not wanting to draw attention to the fact we always seem to arrive together and leave the same way.
There’s a taxi waiting at the curb and I claim it just as Casey arrives at my back, breathless and impatient.
We head straight upstairs when we get back to his place. He reaches for me, and I know exactly what he wants. It’s what I want too, and we make quick work of shedding our clothes before he straddles my hips and rides me until I come with a groan, deep inside him.
I sprawl out alongside him afterwards, deeply sated and relaxed and exhausted in the way I always am after Casey extracts those incomparable orgasms out of me.
Casey is less exhausted as he lines himself up alongside me, fingers twitchy and eyes bright.
He’s still on an adrenaline high from the game so I know exactly where his thoughts are going.
He’s less than subtle as his hand wanders down my body, clasping around my interested but still very spent cock.
“If you want a second round tonight, Case, you’re going to have to be the one on top,” I tell him as he tries to get me interested. “I’m not getting hard enough for penetration for at least another hour.”
“Really?” he asks, something in his voice causing me to open my eyes. He’s looking at me with something there that I can’t quite name.
“Yes, baby. I’m pretty sure that’s how normal dicks function if you’re thinking about lodging a complaint.”
“Oh I’m not complaining,” he chuffs. “I meant do you really mean I can top you?”
I pause, seeking out his eyes. That’s what that look is there on his face—uncertainty. It’s not something I’ve seen from him before.
“Of course, Casey,” I assure him. “I would always let you top me if you want to. I just haven’t gotten the impression from you that it’s something you’re interested in.”
He says nothing, eyes focusing on the pattern his fingers trace on my stomach.
“It’s not that I’m not interested ,” he finally mulls.
“It’s just … that kind of sex has never been all that exciting for me, the kind where I’m in control at least. It’s always been very …
lacklustre and forgettable. But I don’t know if that’s just because of who I’ve been doing it with or if it’s just something I don’t like. ”
“Ah,” I say. “That makes sense. It’s not something you have to do with us either if you prefer not to. But the offer stands.”
“Is it something you like?” he asks, voice dipped in hesitancy.
“Yeah, I like it both ways,” I tell him.
“I just wasn’t quite sure about how things work,” he chuffs. “Like if positions are set in same sex relationships or if you can mix things up.”
“I am definitely open to mixing things up. Playing in the midfield with you if you like,” I tell him, waiting for the smile to cross his face.
“So like, in your other relationships,” Casey hedges, fingers toying with my stomach. “Did you mix it up with them?”
“There’s no right or wrong way of doing relationships,” I say. “Some of the guys I’ve been with only wanted to bottom. Others liked to mix it up.”
“Charles?” he asks.
“Casey,” I groan. “I do not want to talk with you about Charles.”
“I’m not being jealous or anything,” he protests. “I’m just really interested in your sex life. Obviously. I want to make sure you’re getting what you want too.”
“I’m getting everything I want,” I assure him.
“Being inside you is a religious experience. We can happily continue this way forevermore if that’s what you want.
If not, that’s equally good for me too. But tonight at least, if you want more than one round, you’re going to have to pitch in and do some of the work. ”
He smiles at that before he looks up at me. “Yeah, okay. Let’s do it.”
“Alright,” I agree, smiling back at him. “Just … it’s been a while for me so you might need to be gentle.”
“Really?” he asks, latching onto that little fact like I knew he would. “How long?”
“Well, I broke up with Charles about three months before I moved to Sydney and it’s been about three months more here. Plus Charles and I stopped having sex about a month before we broke up for one reason or another so maybe seven months.”
“You haven’t been with anyone since then?” he drops so coyly I almost miss the digging expedition for what it is.
“That’s not what I said,” I reply.
“Who else have you been with?”
“Casey,” I sigh.
“I promise I’m not being jealous. I want to know. I want to know everything about you. I’ll start. Last time I had sex was after the Brownlow Medal event last September. It was with Marjorie O’Neil who was desperate to be a WAG and lowkey stalked me for months after.”
I huff a laugh even though I don’t want to.
“I don’t know why I can’t say no to you,” I sigh, tipping my head against the pillow.
I hesitate before I say, “Two other guys since Charles. One was an ex from university who I ran into after Charles and I broke up. The other was a random I met at a club in London one night.”
“A gay club?” he asks, looking up at me from under his lashes.
“Of course,” I say, hoping that’s the end of our show and tell.
“See? That wasn’t so hard,” he grins, happy now he’s gotten his way. Like usual. But I don’t protest when he crawls over me, legs straddling my thighs. “Do you need more recovery time or are we good to go?”
“Green light, baby,” I tell him, only just seeing that grin before he leans down and steals my breath away with a kiss.