Chapter 44: Pen to Paper

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(Nick's POV)

One second I was sitting in Coach Singh's office, bringing me back to my youth, next I was being told of her connections in the league and then I was being told to pick from them, and now I'm contemplating signing a life-altering contract with Charlie's input.

"Wait." I look up at my potential future coach, whose gaze is set on me, and set my pen down. "Do you mind if I call my fiancé?" Realizing that I likely won't take no for an answer since my hand is already in my pocket, ready to whip out my phone, he nods.

"Of course, I understand. Take your time." Although his words are objectively kind and patient, I still feel like I'm on a time crunch. It's almost as if there's a timer sitting in front of me and the grains of salt are filtering through to the bottom with each passing moment. After all, he's surely a busy man.

As the phone rings, the man walks out of the room to give Charlie and me privacy. I huff out a sigh of relief, knowing that I can now break down my walls. "How'd it go with Coach Singh?"

He has a lot to be caught up on.

"Very well. So well, that there's a contract to be signed right in front of me."

Silence, and then a reply. "Sorry, what?"

"Yeah, exactly. Coach Singh pulled some major strings, and now I could be on an actual team, Char. A serious one."

"So, what's with the hesitation? You said it yourself, this is a huge opportunity. One that you've longed for, might I add." He gathers his breath, the rattling of Nellie's collar suddenly booming over the phone. She must've jumped onto the couch, right beside Charlie. "Honestly, I assumed that you would've phoned me, instead going on about how you're leaving for Worcester this weekend, not about how you're unsure."

I look down at the contract, letting my fiancé's words float around in the air.

You said it yourself, this is a huge opportunity. One that you've longed for, might I add.

"Oh, well- erm, this is a big decision, that's all. There's a lot of words..oh my god, I think that I have dyslexia! What if I do?! The words are all jumbled up. Maybe this is a bad copy? Actually wait- no yeah, they are. That makes sense, yeah, I mean I could read it like-" I peer down at the time on my watch, "twenty minutes ago."

"Nick, sweetheart, breathe."

And that's when I realized that all of the air had escaped my lungs, and I was fighting for oxygen.

"This is so silly of me. So, so, silly. Why am I panicking?! This is- this is all I've ever wanted, and now I can't even pick up the bloody pen to sign the damn thing because my hand is trembling right now."

With a groan, I lay my head on the desk and take a moment to squeeze my eyes shut. Meanwhile, in the background of the buzzing in my head, Charlie speaks to me.

"I think that you may be nervous because perhaps you don't feel as ready as you thought you are? College rugby was ages ago, and this is so much bigger than being on a college team."

My breathing is shallow, but my heart is full. "Hmm." I take his words into account, succumbing to the idea that he's painfully correct, "What's gotten you to be so wise and knowing, Charles?"

"Severe mental illness."

I can't help but chuckle at that.

"Wanna know what else I know?"

"Hm?"

"That you'll regret not signing 'the damn thing'."

Just like that, the panic subsides, only reducing to some leftover shakes and adrenaline.

I'm smiling.

"I don't hear you scribbling, Nicholas."

"Thank you," I say as I pick up the pen, and then I sign the contract.

Nicholas Nelson.

"Wait. Did you even read it?"

Before replying, I skim through it. "Good news, I'm not losing my voice to a sea witch!"

Charlie giggles, "alright baby, I'll see you when you get home. I need to get ready for a drumming lesson that's in roughly two minutes." He pauses before bidding me goodbye and reminding me that he loves me, "Fancy a cake to celebrate?"

"Only if there's a mountain of buttercream."

"Deal. I love you, Nick."

"I love you most, see you in a few hours."

Once Charlie hangs up, I shove my phone into my pocket and then get up with the contract in hand, heading for the door.

"So, when's the next practice?"

My coach smiles at me, quickly accepting the paper in my hands. "Women," he says, "they're so persuasive. Our next practice is this weekend, Nelson. Welcome to the team."

Coach Singh is quick to step in, "Yes, his fiancé, with one e by the way, is quite persuasive, Daniel."

For some reason, I expect the expression on my coach's face to change, or even slightly flicker to the look of shock or even disgust. But it doesn't. His grin doesn't even fade. It only grows in size.

What a relief. For a second, I was thinking about how to take that signed contract back, and properly tear it up.

"My apologies, how insensitive of me."

I should've known that Coach Singh would have outstanding connections in the field, specifically, as far as I know, ones that are allies.



Author's note: Our beloved golden retriever seems to have MOMENTARILY forgotten that the media and general public aren't always as accepting as his new coach.

(How dare we queers thrive 😾)

..fame can be so cruel, can't it?

Let it be known that angst is loading...

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