Page 83 of Fever Dream
“That’s not what I said,” I reply.
“Who else have you been with?”
“Casey,” I sigh.
“I promise I’m not being jealous. I want to know. I want to know everything about you. I’ll start. Last time I had sex was after the Brownlow Medal event last September. It was with Marjorie O’Neil who was desperate to be a WAG and lowkey stalked me for months after.”
I huff a laugh even though I don’t want to. “I don’t know why I can’t say no to you,” I sigh, tipping my head against the pillow. I hesitate before I say, “Two other guys since Charles. One was an ex from university who I ran into after Charles and I broke up. The other was a random I met at a club in London one night.”
“A gay club?” he asks, looking up at me from under his lashes.
“Of course,” I say, hoping that’s the end of our show and tell.
“See? That wasn’t so hard,” he grins, happy now he’s gotten his way. Like usual. But I don’t protest when he crawls over me, legs straddling my thighs. “Do you need more recovery time or are we good to go?”
“Green light, baby,” I tell him, only just seeing that grin before he leans down and steals my breath away with a kiss.
CHAPTER 30
casey
Iam woken by the shrill ringing of my phone on my bedside table. Rude, seeing as I am still recovering from a big night of celebration at the Echo Chamber, not to mention late last night in my bedroom where I learned a few new tricks of the trade.
My phone gives up and I sigh a breath of relief before curling back into Harrison, warm and cosy at my side. It doesn’t last, my phone ringing loud and obnoxious as it starts up again. I grab it because I don’t want to wake Harrison, not after he was so wonderful and sweet to me last night. I glance down at the display to see the name of my agent calling.
He's not the only one who’s tried to call me this morning. I have seven missed calls from Sonny and a bunch of texts from a series of unknown numbers.
Something squeezes tight in my gut as I climb out of bed and answer the call.
“Riley?” I answer, sliding open the door to my balcony and stepping outside. I’m naked but my balcony overlooks my backyard and is private from the neighbouring houses, though the wind is a little chilly on account of the wintery morning.
“Casey,” he barks at me. “I’ve been trying you for the last hour.”
“Sorry,” I reply. “My phone is set to sleep mode until seven.”
“Right. Well, we have a problem,” Riley says, confirming what my gut was already telling me. “Have you seen the news this morning?”
“Which news?” I ask, lead sinking into my stomach.
“All of them. Pick a website,” he says, voice strained. I put him on speaker and swipe up a webpage, selecting the most obnoxious news site I can think of. And there, starring as today’s headline news is a photo of me and Harrison at the club last night, tagline blaring “Casey Busted: Secret’s Out and So Is He!"
“What the fuck,” I rumble, clicking on the attention seeking headline. My eyes dart over the page, not reading but seeing enough to know they have Harrison’s full name and details of his position at the Fever.
But. It’s not much more than conjecture and bluff based solely on a photograph that was taken of us on the footpath of the Echo Chamber last night. We must not have been aware but there is a shot of our pinkie fingers linked as we stand out the front, waiting for Sonny and Izak to climb out of the cab.
“You seen it?” Riley asks.
“Is that all?” I ask. “Just the photo of us out the front of the club?” Yes, it’s somewhat incriminating but it’s not the smoking gun I was imagining.
“No, that’s not all,” Riley says. “Read on.”
I do as he says and that’s when I see it—the money shot—the one that tipped this story from suggestion to suspicion. It’s a shot of Harrison and me leaning up against the table in the club. Our bodies are angled, heads bent towards each other as we share a smile. But it’s not the sweetness of the stolen smile, it’s the look in our eyes that is the dead giveaway. We’re gazing at each other like we’re the greatest thing the other has ever seen.There's a few more just like it from when we danced together on the dance floor.
Fuck. I didn’t even know I looked at Harrison that way. There’s not a lot of room for debate about what’s happening in that photo. We might as well be sharing a passionate kiss.
“Oh,” I say.
“Yes. Oh,” Riley replies. “Anything you want to tell me, Casey?” I can’t answer right away, eyes laser focused on that shot of us taken by some curious observer at the club last night. Does Harrison really look at me like that? Like I’m the greatest thing since sliced bread?
