Page 58 of Something to Believe In

“Just like a chocolate milkshake, only crunchy,” I say with a grin, spooning some into my own mouth.

He snorts.

We sit there in silence, eating our cereal, but I’m still thinking about how Oliver came over to my house early this morning to make me pancakes for breakfast. Why would he do that? And why did I feel so awkward around him when he asked to take me out for breakfast? It’s not like we haven’t ridden our bikes down to the main street for breakfast before he played footy millions of times, but something about the way he asked me today just felt different.

“So, you ready for the game today?” I ask just as he says, “Are you excited for Macca’s eighteenth tonight?”

He laughs. “Yeah, it should be a good game. North Heights are fourth on the ladder, so they’ll give us a bit of competition.”

I nod, taking another mouthful of cereal.

“Macca’s eighteenth?” he prompts.

“Can’t wait.”

It’s quiet again for a couple more minutes before Oliver clears his throat. “Can I ask you something?”

I glance up from my bowl, surprised to see his eyes locked onto mine. I don’t know why, but my thoughts drift to Oliver’s eighteenth and the feel of his soft lips against–whoa! Back up. There’ll be none of that happening tonight! Friends! We are just friends, and that is all we’re going to be.I shake my head. I’m not putting myself out there again. It hurt way too much the first time.

“You okay?” he asks, studying my face.

“Fine,” I reply, grabbing my bowl and dumping it in the sink. “Um, shouldn’t you be going soon? What time do you have to be at the game?”

Oliver looks down at his watch and groans. He shovels in a couple more mouthfuls of WeetBix and drops his bowl in the sink next to mine.

“You coming to the game?” he asks, grabbing his footy bag from where he left it on the floor at the end of the kitchen bench.

“Yep, meeting Ash there in an hour.”

“Great, I’ll see you after then?” He wraps me in an awkward hug.

“See you.”

I lean on the kitchen bench, resting my forehead on my arms. What the hell was going through my head? And why the hell am I so relieved I stopped him from asking whatever he was thinking? I feel like things were about to get way too serious. I can’t go there with Oliver again. It almost ruined our friendship. It certainly wouldn’t survive if it were to happen again. The front door closes, and my body instantly relaxes. Friends. That’s it. That’s all we’ll ever be.

27

High Hopesby Panic! At the Disco is blasting through the speakers in the change rooms as my teammates get changed into their boots. I shake my arms out, trying to get rid of the nervous energy surrounding me. A lot is riding on today’s game. The Geelong Football Club’s list manager will be here watching his nephew play against us.

“Heads up.” Macca handballs me a football.

Bouncing the oval ball a couple of times against the concrete floor, it calms me instantly. There’s nothing like the feel of a red leather ball in my hands.

“All right, boys,” Chris calls, and one of the boys turns off the tunes. “Bring it in.”

Macca claps me on the back, and I exhale, rolling my shoulders as I crowd in with my teammates. Anticipation bubbles in the air.

Chris launches into his pre-match speech, revving the boys up. “It’s a wet day out there, so we have to adjust for the conditions. Today is going to be all about playing territory football. We need to keep the ball moving forward at all costs. Don’t look for the handball, try and gain metres and play the game in our forward half. Put pressure on every contested ball. We know North Heights have a tall backline, so the quicker we get it down to our forwards, the less time they have to set up on us. Connection and communication are key. Take care of the ball. Hit targets. Back each other up. Talk. If you see something that needs to change out there, be a leader. Direct your teammates.”

The siren sounds. We get around each other, clapping backs and yelling, “Let’s go boys.” The sparse crowd braving the wet conditions cheer as we leave the change rooms. Running out onto the muddy field, I catch a glimpse of Hannah and Ashley standing undercover near the club rooms.

I grin as Macca runs past, scruffing my hair. “Keep your head in the game, bro. The girls can wait ‘til my party tonight.”

I shake my head, and laugh as I aim a couple of jabs at his shoulder.

I lead the boys through the warm-up, but I can’t help glancing over at Hannah. Her hair is tied up in a messy bun on top of her head and she’s so damn cute in her jeans and pink flannelette shirt. I’m so busy checking her out, I’m not paying attention and cop a stray ball to the head.Shit! How embarrassing!I rub my face, scowling as Macca smirks at me mouthing the words ‘head in the game.’

Thankfully my game is not as bad as my warm-up and I come into the three-quarter-time huddle sweaty and muddy, but happy with my performance so far. “We’re two goals up, boys, but that’s too close.” I gather the boys in around me.

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