Page 31 of Fever Dream
“Definitely interested,” I nod. As if I wouldn’t be.
“Cool. I’ll email the tickets to you. Just text me how many you want, and I’ll do the rest. You’ll just need ID to get into the player’s lounge.”
“Just a word of caution. The friends will be Australian football players who will insist on calling it soccer.”
Xavier barks out a laugh. “Well, let’s give them a proper intro to the truly beautiful game.”
“I can’t wait.”
“Me neither. Will be great to see you again, Thorny.”
“You too, Xavi.”
***
Casey is nothing but pure dedication for the rest of the week as we work towards the deadline of Thursday’s team list announcement. He is absolutely determined to have his name announced this week and I know that if I pull the pin again, his devastation will be immeasurable.
So I am just as determined as my star client, putting in extra hours, giving up another rest day, and leaving no stone unturned so that he can run out with the team on Saturday. The club has been doing their best to block out the increased media attention and scrutiny behind Casey’s limited training time on the field. That is all external stuff we can’t control.
What we can control we do. And that starts with our dawn Pilates sessions every morning even though Casey is far more reluctant about those classes this week. Ever since Andy slipped me his number in a way that was as subtle as a gravel track. And sure, Andy’s hot but I know I won’t be calling him.
I just don’t have time for outside distractions right now. Not when the week is filled to the brim with Casey. And the nights are spent at his house or mine. And on the one night we say farewell at the club and part ways, he calls and we spend all night on the phone again. Watching that naughtyNetflix show together.
Of course, Casey doesn’t find anything weird about watching a show that is seventy percent sex while talking with me. And even though nearly all the sex scenes are hetero, it doesn’t stop me from getting,ahem,caught up in the moment. I’m pretty certain it’s less to do with what’s happening on set than what Casey’s voice down the line does to me.
But now it’s D-day once again and I sit in Mick Brabham’s office, Tim Masters on one side and Ben McLean on the other as we go through Casey’s latest scans, and I add in my ownobservations. The team list will be announced at ten o’clock this morning. At nine o’clock to the very second, Casey knocks on the door and steps inside.
His eyes find mine, a brief but worried smile in them before Mick commands his attention the way he is owed as Head Coach.
“Coach,” Casey nods before smiling at Ben and Tim.
“Callie. Take a seat,” Mick nods. He sits in the chair beside Ben, his posture easy to everyone else in the room. Only I can see the slight tremble in his hand, the worry darting behind his pretty blue-green eyes. He shifts slightly and I just want to put him out of his misery. If I knew the outcome of this meeting I would have let him know beforehand, but this decision is barely five minutes old and I am anxious for him.
Coach clears his throat, looking down his nose at his star recruit. “You’re playing on Saturday, Callie,” he announces with zero fanfare.
Casey’s eyes light up like the dawn sun, smile spreading across his face which he tries to temper by biting on his bottom lip. His eyes dart to me again, grateful and happy with a thousand different emotions in that fleeting glance.
“Thank you,” he sighs, a big, relieved sigh.
“Thankyou,Calloway,” Mick corrects. “You’re the one who put in all the work this week. You deserve your spot.”
“And Harrison,” Casey adds, quiet nod in my direction. “This is on him too.”
“Exactly,” Mick agrees, settling back in his seat. “Great work from both of you. Now, before we get too carried away, I’m sure you must be aware that if Thornfield had his way you’d be on the sidelines for the rest of the year.”
“Well, that’s not quite—” I go to say but Mick silences me with an amused look.
“And naming you to play does not mean you’re miraculously healed,” Mick adds, and I settle back down. “Thornfield andMcLean will work up a game day treatment plan for you. This will include a thorough assessment at half time and again at three-quarter time. I also know you can’t be trusted to give us the truth about your body so if either of the physios substitute you out, you accept their decision without question. I want that as a promise from you.”
“I promise,” Casey nods, recognising the sincerity of the moment.
“Good,” Coach nods. The tension in the room has dissipated, a happy feeling settling over the space. We all know how far-reaching the consequences of this little strategy meeting will be but none of us care about that right now.
“Does this mean I get to train with the team today?” Casey asks.
“You can join Langton’s Captain’s run for one hour this morning but then I want you working with the midfield coaches on skills. I know you haven’t kicked a football in the last three weeks.” His expression is wry as he glances my way.
“Perfect,” Casey grins, bouncing on his seat.
