Page 34 of Fever Dream
“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’smybest 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 begratefulfor 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 teammatesand 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 ofSweet 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 suddenlyThree Lionsstarts 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 fromthe 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.
