45. Noah
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
NOAH
RECOMMENDED LISTENING ‘I WILL BUY YOU A NEW LIFE’ BY EVERCLEAR
We go a few more rounds, yelling insults and egging each other on. It’s common practice on the ground, and we are both used to it after our time at camp. The last ten weeks have been the hottest and most grueling of my life.
I was a different man when I first walked into the locker room on day one. Nervous. Unsure. Aching to prove myself. A chip the size of Tasmania on my shoulder.
Now, I’ve relaxed into my role of opening batter, captain, fielder. I trade jokes and punches with the fifteen other guys on my team. I’m confident in my role, my skill, my talent.
And I hope, I really do, the coaches have taken note of how far I’ve come. Especially with the cover drive.
The cover drive I’d never have mastered if it wasn’t for the smart, fascinating, insanely hot woman I’m in love with.
Who I haven’t confessed my feelings to yet.
I want to drown in the Atlantic each time the thought flashes across my brain. It’s forceful and amused and…slightly scared. Because, yes, I had my big realization two nights ago. I’m happy. I’m in love.
And in the wake of her sobering admission, we haven’t done much except hang out and sleep when we aren’t working. I’m amazed she still lets me anywhere near her, after knowing what I now know.
So, I haven’t found the right time to tell her how I feel.
“Are you coming with us for dinner? The whole squad’s going cliff diving again before the weather turns.” Fox throws a water bottle at me.
I wipe sweat off my forehead, after removing the helmet. I hesitate. I want to say yes. One night away from Queenie and her big, sad eyes…the way she makes me feel all squishy and achy… is probably a good idea. I might get some perspective, maybe even get a grip? I don’t know. I’ve never been in love before.
I grin, on cue.
“Never mind. You have plans with your girl.”
I blink. He’s so easily accepting of Queenie. Of our relationship. The fake one and the more recent, not-so-fake one.
And so am I. Right?
I adore the time we spend together. Whether it’s watching her read books off her own personal reading list, or movies where she yells at the screen. Or family meals which even Ares cooks for, the lazy arse. We all even braved an India-Australia match telecast last week.
Queenie was ferocious when her team beat ours hollow. She even did a victory dance. I made her do it again in bed. Wearing my jersey. Nothing but my jersey.
She is the one person on the planet, I am okay with being twenty-four/seven. And we spend a lot of time, like an inordinate amount of time, discussing the nuances of cricket greats. Ponting, Tendulkar, her precious Kohli.
This is as real as it gets.
Being in love is just a natural evolution of my time with her. The energy I give and get from her. Love is just another feeling she makes me feel.
So what if she’s smarter than me, like legitimately smarter than me, with a string of future degrees to her name? This was supposed to be a summer thing, a finite arrangement benefitting us both.
Now I have feelings. And I’m thinking of a future which includes my girl and my game. And I’m not scared. Or alone. Or lonely.
It’s…perfect.
And all I have to do is ask her a simple question.
Queenie, can I continue seeing you after summer is over? Can we be together, long-term? For real? For good?
“Yeah,” I tell Fox, when he nudges me. “I have plans with Queenie. But maybe later?”
“If I wasn’t one hundred percent convinced, you’re clobbered over her, I’d mock you endlessly for how whipped you are.” Fox gives me a cheeky wink.
“I’m not clobbered over her,” I reply instantly. Instinctively.
I am not clobbered over her. Being clobbered means I need her. I cannot do without her. Being clobbered means she is essential to my well-being and that’s not what this is.
It is not.
No one is essential to my well-being. No one can be. Because if someone else is essential to my well-being, there’s a possibility they could…go. Leave. Disappear.
Then, I’d not have my well-being anymore.
I’m just in love with her and I’m happy about it. It’s an entirely different thing. Not that I’m going to tell Fox and have him mock me some more.
“Alright, mate. Whatever you say.” Fox chugs from the bottle and dries himself off.
“Why would you say that anyway?” I push him. “That I’m clobbered over her.”
“Because I can’t remember the last time you spoke to your father, much less asked him for help. But you called him because she was caught in a compromising video with you.” His words are simple. Logical. “Do you know she chucked work the day she decided to calibrate the ball machine for you? And she’s deathly afraid of objects flying at her?”
“Everyone’s afraid of flying objects,” I argue half-heartedly.
“Not you. You face them down. You make them your bitch.” Fox hooks the towel around his neck. “And she braved them. For you.”
“It doesn’t mean anything, Fox.” It doesn’t mean I’m clobbered over her. “Queenie’s the most practical person I know. She’d break out in hives if she heard you.” I even sound like a level-headed bloke.
“Alright, then.” But he gives me a long, searching look from the De Rossi greys. I stare right back at him, so he doesn’t spot any weakness in me.
“You two ladies are done gossiping, or do I need to roast under this sun some more?” Ares calls out from the other end of the pitch.
We both look at each other and yell, “Roast some more.”
We pack up soon after, when my phone buzzes again. I answer it without seeing caller ID.
“Hey, Noah. This is Kevin Sangster, assistant coach for the Melbourne Marvels. If you have a moment, I’d like to talk to you about the possibility of joining our league team for the upcoming T20 season,” the man on the other end says easily.
Casually offering me the life of my dreams. Going pro. Finally.
“I…” I stop walking back to the parking lot.
“Hey. Are you there?” Kevin asks.
“Yes,” I whisper dazedly. “I’m here.”
And as I listen to Kevin tell me his plans for including me in the team, I see a future so bright it dazzles me. That future is me playing professional cricket and making mum’s dream come true.
With my dream by my side.
Queenie.