𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 → 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐰𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐬 (𝐢)

forty-five [s]

monday,
april 17th, 2018

SHAWN MENDES

"I'm nervous," I tell Trinity. My fingers repeatedly tap against the rim of the steering wheel and I flinch when T's hand lands on my knee.

"Shawn, it's going to be okay. Whatever happens, happens. You're going to do great either way," she assures me, "what's meant to be, will be."

I nod my head, silently agreeing with her. I couldn't help the fact that my heart is still heavily pounding in my chest. I could almost hear it. Thump, thump, thump.

Today is the day of the big game. All the guys are sweating it, we all want that spot. We're playing against USC, but I don't think anyone cares about who wins. It's all about who earns a spot.

Scott Perry and David Fizdale are attending this somewhat friendly game. They manage the New York Knicks. They're going to choose two members of our university team, and two members of USC's. They might only pick one or two people in total, it truly depends on skill. It's safe to say, I am terrified.

We soon pull up to the indoor court where the game is being held. UCLA and USC supporters file in through the multiple entrances, wearing team colours.

"Hey." Trinity's voice snaps me out of my daze. "I love you, okay? Everything will work itself out."

I nod and lean across the console to press a kiss to her forehead. We hop out of my jeep and I grab my gear bag from the back seat. I click the car locked and we head towards the court.

"I have to go in the back entrance to the changing room. I'll see you in the crowd, okay? I love you."

Trinity nods and smiles at my words and embraces me in a short, tight hug. I peck her lips twice before we go our separate ways. I wave to her before passing through the blue doors leading to the changing room.

I arrive, and am immediately welcomed by nervous, adrenaline pumped teammates and our coach slash manager.

"Mendes!" he calls for me.

"Hi, Mark." I greet him with a pat on the shoulder and he grins at me.

"You ready?" he asks, "I have faith in you, Shawn."

I shrug, "I guess I'm ready. I dunno. I'm scared. What if I don't make it?"

Mark looks at me with sympathy, his grey eyes burrowing into my brain, "Mendes, there'll be plenty of other opportunities to move to the next step. There'll be more new teams — successful ones, at that. Don't worry about it, son. I know you'll play great with or without that NYK position."

I nod and feel myself relax a little at my coach's words.

"Plus, we have a senior team, too. For after your college course. You're only in the uni team, Shawn. You could train for Steve in the future. You'll always get a step up. Anywhere you can, you will."

I thank him and go to greet a few of my teammates. I tug off my sweatshirt and joggers, revealing my white gear.

Mark soon calls for us to take a seat on one of the wooden benches, and so we all space out. I sit beside Evan, and we give each other a good luck handshake.

"Alright boys!" Mark claps his hands together. "This is the big game. Imagine; two of you could be playing for the NYK within a month! That's crazy. I want you all to know, it's been a pleasure coaching and growing with you guys. We're a family, and to see one or two leave us today, it'll hurt. But we'll rebuild, and we'll never lose contact. Don't worry if you don't make it. Not all of you will. There'll be other and more opportunities."