Page 37 of Fever Dream
“Course. Game was amazing,” he says. But he’s missing his usual spark, the usual warmth I get from him. I mull on this for a while, mind thinking back to last night and the way Casey hadgotten all weird about me wearing Xavier’s name on my jersey. Which was kind of amusing really.
I was serious that the only reason I was wearing Xavi’s jersey was because he had given it to me. In stark contrast to my Beckham jersey which I wore for completely different reasons. That jersey is safely stowed away at my parent’s house back home—my literal favourite possession growing up. But I wore my Beckham jersey for very different reasons from why I wore Xavi’s last night.
I’m not ashamed to admit I spent all my teenage nights dreaming of David Beckham. Even though he was all but retired by the time I realised why I fancied him so much. I’m less proud of the fact Beck’s face seems to have morphed into Casey Calloway’s in my more recent dreams—but nobody else needs to know that.
“Did you …” Casey probes and my eyes whip to his face where he’s chewing on his bottom lip. “Did you stay out late last night?”
“Why? Does it show?” I try for the laugh but he doesn’t join me.
“Were you with Xavier?” he asks. I pause where I’m working on his thigh. Was it my imagination that Casey had an issue with him last night?
“Yeah,” I tell him. “The team flew out this morning so some of the guys wanted to see a bit of Sydney. We went to a bar near the stadium.”
“Oh,” Casey replies. “Sounds fun.” Yeah except for the fact Casey sounds like I went to a funeral.
“Did you not like him? Xavier?”
Casey’s eyes ping back to me. “Sure. He was … fine,” he says. His lack of enthusiasm is pronounced. “I mean, well, he’s a bit full of himself, yeah? And could the guy be more all over you? It was ridiculous how he couldn’t keep his hands to himself.”
I nearly choke on the laugh that wants to break free but for some reason I rein it back in. I could call out Casey’s blaring hypocrisy on both those statements but … wait a sec—
“Case? Are you jealous?” I ask.
“What?” he splutters. “No. Course I’m notjealous. Why would I … what makes you … no, just no. I’m not …jealous.”
“Okay,” I placate, hauling back the smile that wants to literally burst free. Heisbloody jealous, and the realisation has my heart soaring. At the same time, it’s clearly affecting him, and I just can’t live in a world where I am responsible for Casey feeling badly.
So I shrug off my internal joy and say, “Xavier’s a great guy, Case. You’d probably really like him if you got to know him. He’s a lot like you in some ways, really dedicated and motivated.”
I can tell he doesn’t like my comparison by the soft huff that comes out of his mouth. So I add, “And he’s a really good friend of mine too, Case. But he’s never been mybestfriend.”
I leave the words dangling, waiting until his eyes hit mine. “No?” he poses, the nonchalance so fake he could star on a daytime soap.
“No,” I say. I leave it at that but the tension between us seems to evaporate, if evidenced only by the soft sighs that leave his mouth at the touch of my hands. Sure, it’s not the sex-laden moans I’m used to, but I’ll take it.
I finish working on him and tap his knee. “You’re good, Callie,” I tell him. He hauls himself off the treatment bed but the way he hovers is cute and obvious as he moves at snail’s pace to collect his things.
“Hey, Case?” I say as he heads for the door. “Want to hang out tonight?”
He pauses, back to me, fingers drumming on the doorjamb. “Oh, I mean, only if you want …”
“Let me rephase then. I’m coming round for dinner tonight, okay?”
His head moves slightly in my direction, but he doesn’t otherwise move. “And a swim?”
I smile. “Yeah, a swim sounds good.”
“I’ll get us that Thai green curry you like.”
“I’d love that.”
“Okay,” he says, the smile I’ve been missing today back on that gorgeous face. “Are you ready to leave now?”
“I have a medico meeting first. I’ll meet you at your place.”
“Okay,” he smiles again but it’s all cute and shy and my heart just melts into a puddle. He leaves and I let out a breath as I shake my head.
High maintenance, that’s what Casey Calloway is. And why that delights instead of disturbs me is something I’ll leave to ponder for another day.
