Page 95 of Fever Dream
It’s the first game for the Fever since Casey and I blew up the sporting world on Friday night. Our post made it onto news highlights even in some surprising parts of the globe, the prospect of an out elite male athlete too tantalising to resist.
My phone has run off the hook ever since but we’ve both kept them silent since our self-imposed media ban, and I’ve been selective over who I’ve responded to. For example, the twenty-three calls from Charles have gone straight to voicemail.
Casey has been quieter and more contemplative than usual but even he had to laugh when he showed me a text from Marjorie O’Neil. ‘I should never have trusted you. UR supposed to be my soulmate.’Well, better get over it, Majorie, cos he’s mine now. And yes, he’smysoulmate.
I ended up calling my boss at Tottenham yesterday after he sent me a text with a screenshot of our post and a single question mark. We had a long talk, and I told him everything about Casey and how I had no plans on coming back to the UK.
He was far more understanding than I expected, and it looks like he might advocate for me to be released from the non-compete. It will likely come with a request for a fair monetarycompensation, but I know the Fever will stump up the cash. Mick told me so already.
Alice is on the case now anyway along with an extension to my visa and I can only pray that it will come to fruition because I love working at this club. But even if it doesn’t, I’ll work my own way out. The only thing I know is that I’m not leaving Australia and I’m not leaving Casey.
The club, or more specifically Nikki from PR, wanted to do a whole pride celebration pre-match thing before today’s game but Casey was quick to veto that idea, and I am silently glad. Neither of us want to make a spectacle of our relationship and neither of us want to presume that the entire team is onboard with this either. More importantly, both of us just want to focus on the game.
Still, it’s heartwarming to see that some of the guys in Casey’s team have fronted up to today’s game wearing discreet AFL-sanctioned rainbow flags on their socks. Casey didn’t say anything, but his eyes got a little misty when Sonny strolled in from the change room sporting his new, colourful socks.
Honestly, I’m just so damn proud of Casey and how he has handled everything these past few weeks. Better than me if I’m being totally honest and I’m meant to be the level-headed one.
I have Casey on the treatment bed for our pre-game routine, and I can see he’s got his game face on, focused and ready for the match ahead. We’ve never let our relationship interfere with match day preparations and today is no different as I concentrate on getting the Fever’s number one player up to scratch.
I tap Casey’s knee when I’m done, and he pulls himself up off the bed. He starts to leave when he stops and turns back to me. The coy look on his face should be my first hint that today might be different, but I’m still surprised when he grips my hand in his, leans across and plants a kiss on my cheek.
“Thanks, H,” he grins, squeezing my hand once before turning and sauntering off. I just chuff a laugh and watch him walk away. And yes, because he’s dead set eye candy and he’s mine, I let my eyes drop to his ass as he goes. It’s a sensational ass and I like looking at it. Sue me.
The game begins and I’m at my usual position on the sidelines, watching the play but unable to keep my eyes off Casey for long. He’s hard to miss with the way he takes on the game, and today he seems to be playing extra special.
It may be due to the fact I’ve already spotted dozens of fans in the stadium waving rainbow flags, or it may be the number of banners made in support of Casey. It warms my heart to know he has the support of so many of the Fever’s fanbase.
I know Casey feels like he has something extra to prove out there today, like being the best player on the field is no longer enough. But he doesn’t have anything more to prove than what he already brings to this club, his dedication and loyalty and passion for the team.
The Fever pull off an amazing close win against a much higher ranked team in the Brighton Titans, last year’s premiers, thanks to some immaculate play by Casey. Not one person has left their seat as the team song plays out around the stadium. They stay standing as the team circle the pitch, high fiving the fans who have turned out in droves once again for this newly emerging team.
The broadcaster lands on a youngish boy of fourteen or so in the front row of the stands, showing him up on the big screen. He is holding a hand painted sign—the wordsMarry me Casey #17accompanied by red hearts and rainbows. It’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen and he face lights up ruby red when he sees his face up on the big screen.
Casey is still on the other side of the ground, and I hope like hell he sees the boy. The big screen alternates between shots ofCasey high fiving the fans and the boy and his hopeful sign. The team are already starting to move off the pitch and it seems like Casey won’t see the boy. At the last minute he looks up at the screen andglances around the stadium until he sees the boy.
He jogs that way now, my heart squeezing in my chest. The camera follows his every move until he makes it to the boy who suddenly looks very shy as his face turns even brighter red. Casey pulls his boots straight off his feet and hands them to the teenager, who looks like he might just faint. He poses for a quick photo taken by the boy’s beaming mum and then runs off back to his team who wait for him on the ground.
The teenager’s face is still lit up like a beacon on the big screen as his family crowds around him, but his smile is unmissable.
I don’t think I’ve ever loved Casey more than I do right now. He has no idea what he has done for kids like that boy out there, kids like me growing up without seeing any representation.
Casey sees me where I wait at the top of the race, smile on my face as he beelines straight for me in just his navy socks. I know the cameras are still following his every move but that doesn’t stop him from running straight up to me and planting a quick kiss on my mouth. It’s chaste, suitable for the broadcast timeslot but there are cheers around us and I don’t know what to do with this boy who has flipped my life on its head and turned my world around.
He breaks away from me, that gorgeous cheeky smile on his face. He goes to join his team before I reach out for his wrist, hauling him closer to speak in his ear.
“Yes, I’ll move in with you,” I say. The smile he sends me is pure joy, lighting up those beautiful eyes.
“I know you will, H,” he grins. “Later,” he tacks on in a way that I sincerely hope isnotcaptured by the cameras angled atus. He turns and I let him leave, swept up with his team as they depart the field, taking my love and my future with them.
I know whatlatermeans and I’m already desperate to get him away from the eyes of the nation and back to our home where we can be alone. Back to our house that we already truthfully share. Where I have slowly been taking over more and more space, moving my clothes into his closet, shifting my things from the guest bathroom into his ensuite, taking over space in the pantry and the fridge.
Really, it’s more of a formalisation of our living conditions. We haven’t left each other’s sides since the day he knocked on my door last weekend. And if we’re being really honest, since that day we spent out in Sydney together, painting each other in clip-on koalas and corked hats and falling in love with each other. That corked hat now sits on top of Casey’s cupboard in our bedroom, little koalas clipped all over its surface to remind us of where it all began.
And I don’t plan on leaving his side. Not now that he’s mine. Not ever.
EPILOGUE 2
casey
