37 Nico
37
Call Me Lover – Sam Fender
‘Can you flex your knee for me? Any sharp pain?’
I did as my physio asked, extending out to stretch my leg into his arms. Pain radiated up and down as I gritted my teeth. My hands fisted the edge of the chair I was sitting in. ‘It’s a bit stiff, but nothing I can’t manage.’
Jon had all but wrangled me into an emergency appointment after my second-round singles match. I’d won it, comfortably, but it was long, gruelling on anyone. When I’d hobbled off the grass, Jon had made it clear that this appointment wasn’t something I could avoid.
Ethan, my physio, cocked a disbelieving eyebrow as he looked from my knee to me, but he stopped short of pointing out the fact I limped into his assessment room.
His attention turned back to my knee, working it up and down. ‘The surgical site seems stable, but there’s inflammation, probably due to the intensity of the matches you’ve been playing. Can you walk for me? Any noticeable limp or change in your gait?’ Ethan asked, moving and letting me push myself from the chair. At first, any weight on the leg was unbearable, but it soon broke into an easy movement.
‘It’s not too bad when I walk,’ I said, eventually walking from one side of the room to the other. Jon stood against the wall, arms crossed, and an assessing look across his face. His gaze narrowed at my words, silently pressing into me like screws before I admitted to Ethan, ‘But the real pain hits when I pivot on the court.’
Ethan crouched down to his knees, so he was in line with my legs. ‘Alright. Show me a quick pivot to the right, like you would during a match. Let’s see what’s going on there.’
I let out a heavy breath, almost dreading doing the movements after gritting though it on the court, but I relented, showing Ethan the action, using my sore leg in the front, and pivoting through as if I was returning a shot.
Ethan hummed as he watched me. ‘“Okay, now try a few lateral movements, side to side.’
I did as he said, moving my weight from side to side. ‘It’s stable, but there’s a bit of discomfort.’
He nodded again, before explaining, ‘The stress is likely aggravating the knee. We might need to adjust your movement patterns on the court. Try incorporating a wider stance during lateral movements; it should reduce the strain on the knee.’
I mimicked his movement, pushing my feet apart to widen the stance. Pain shot up my leg, albeit duller than before. ‘Feels a bit awkward, but I’ll give it a shot.’
Anything to make this easier.
‘Great. And for now, let’s limit the excessive sliding on the court. That can be harsh on your knee. And if the pain persists or intensifies, come back.’
‘We can try shorter steps too,’ Jon added roughly.
Ethan nodded in agreement. ‘It’s late into the competition now, but I can send you some videos of footwork drills to help you get into the practice. Have you been doing your prescribed exercises?
‘Yeah, every day.’
‘Good, but let’s increase the icing and elevation post-game. And I recommend cutting back on the doubles. You need some rest. Playing both is putting undue stress on it.’
‘Absolutely not.’ I shook my head, the finality of my words catching everyone off balance. Jon’s eyes narrowed again, clearing his throat to speak again. ‘I can’t back down. I’m playing both singles and doubles. I’ll just tough it out.’
‘I get the commitment, Nico,’ Ethan started, sounding apologetic. ‘But pushing through might make it worse. It’s a long tournament, and you risk jeopardizing the rest of your season.’
I wanted to tell them to fuck the rest of the season. I didn’t care about what came after this. It was hard to think ahead when I was so caught up with winning this competition; my focus was purely on this win. This win, and her.
‘I’m not cutting doubles.’ I crossed my arms, looking across at Jon, whose grim expression mirrored Ethan’s.
‘Nico …’ Jon began, but I was too impatient to listen to whatever speech he had locked and loaded.
‘No.’ I shook my head, looking at him. ‘You got me into this. Now let me finish it.’
He tilted his head, his lips pressed together, and after a pause, he said two simple words, ‘She’d understand.’
I could see her face in my mind, blonde hair tied up, that smile that she used to hide whatever she was actually feeling. She would understand. She’d always known I was injured, and part of her would’ve known the chances of me having to drop out. We had both been around long enough to have seen more than a few failed comebacks.
But this meant more than just a competition. Doubles was her revenge, her knife twist. And to me, it was what had tied us together. If it hadn’t been for our training together, I simply wouldn’t be here.
‘I can do it, both of them. The doubles are best of three, anyway,’ I pointed out. ‘Half the work and guaranteed shorter game play. I’m not dropping out. I could be knocked out of the singles competition and still be ready to play the doubles.’
Jon rubbed the back of his neck, sighing before he responded. ‘Just … remember this is a comeback. You need to be easy on yourself as much as you can.’
I fought the urge to grind my teeth with frustration. Of course, I knew this was a comeback. I could see how weak I was compared to the other competitors. Slower, and older, I was far too aware I was past my prime, but still longing for one more day in the sun. This struggle, the pain of the rehab, it had to be for something … right?
And if it couldn’t be for another win, another shot at the singles men’s title, then maybe it could be for her.
‘I’ll do everything I can post-match,’ I promised, determined to convince them that I could do this. ‘I’ll limit the sliding, do the exercises like you said. But I’m not cutting the doubles.’
Ethan looked at Jon and shrugged, as if to say, ‘he’s your problem’. And a problem I was determined to be for as long as they had this idea in their heads about quitting. Jon readjusted his posture, ruffling slightly before looking at me.
‘It means that much to you?’
I realized then that despite his suspicions of Scottie and I, he truly had no idea. Whether he thought it was a fling or a silly little attraction, Jon had not realized how deep these feelings went for me. Because if he thought this was still only about tennis, about competing, he had missed the point entirely.
‘She does.’ I watched as his eyes widened, his mouth dropping into a circle as realisation dawned on him, watched as he saw that this was a problem entirely of his own creation, and that arguing against me was entirely futile.
He nodded. ‘Alright, but if the pain gets worse …’
‘We assess options,’ I finished for him, knowing I couldn’t let it get to that point. Not for her.
‘You realize you are putting the run at the men’s singles at risk,’ Ethan added. ‘And with your injury, you could start to undo the progress you’ve made.’
His warning was stark in the silent room, Jon’s eyes on me, searching for an answer.
With a locked jaw, I nodded, acknowledging what he was saying. This could be it, if I pushed it too far and didn’t heed the warning. This was my second shot. Many had tried before, some had succeeded. More had failed.
Then I looked at Jon. ‘You can’t tell her about this.’
His eyebrows pressed together with frustration as his body straightened, finally stepping away from the wall. ‘Nico, she deserves to know.’
I waved a hand to dismiss him. ‘I’ll tell her if the time comes, but I don’t want her to know until then. She’s stubborn, she won’t understand.’
I knew she wouldn’t ask me to carry on, wouldn’t let me put it all on the line for her. But I wanted to give her this. If anyone deserved this revenge, it was Scottie fucking Sinclar.
‘But you’re doing this for her?’
I crossed my arms and kept my shoulders firm. ‘That’s exactly why she can’t find out.’
Jon rubbed his hand over his face. ‘I think you’re making a mistake. She won’t like that you kept this from her.’
‘I’ll deal with that – if the time comes.’ There was still a good chance everything would work out fine. ‘Until then, she doesn’t need to know.’
‘Okay. Fine,’ Jon agreed. ‘but I won’t keep anything else from her. She’s my responsibility, too.’
‘I understand.’ I ran a hand through my hair, relieved. A part of me was glad that he had her back too, that he was struggling with the idea of keeping this from her, even if it might not even be an issue.
On a relieved breath, I sighed. ‘Thank you.’
Jon nodded curtly, his body still tight, as if still wrestling with the idea. It must have been hard having a conflict of interest like this. ‘Just don’t hurt her. This is the kind of thing that could do that. Be careful.’
I smiled faintly at him, trying to soothe his nerves. ‘I promise I have no intention of ever hurting her.’
Scottie’s hand squeezed my own as she winced in pain, the buzz of the tattoo needle filling the summer evening air. I’d surprised her with an off-campus trip (Jon approved, of course) after she won her game in the fourth round. It had gone the full three sets, but she’d managed to close it out in the end.
I had reached out to my favourite tattooist, Harry, last minute. Right after Ethan wrapped up his lecturing on doing the correct stretches. When I’d promised the design I had in mind was small, he agreed to fit us in this evening. I had gone first, letting her explore the shop a little, while I sat in the chair and let Harry do his work, making sure to keep the result hidden from her. Then it was her turn.
She let out a small yelp of pain again as she lay on her back with her arm above her head so he could work on the inside of her bicep, the opposite arm to mine, but the same position. I held onto her hand, allowing an outlet for her pain, all the while running my other ran through her soft hair.
‘Oh, come on, it doesn’t hurt that much,’ I teased, earning myself a scowl in response.
Her pink lips pursed together. ‘Did your first one hurt?’
I thought to myself for a moment. It had been larger than this design, but in the same place. Five black Olympic rings. ‘It … stung.’
‘You liar.’ She hissed again, although this time with a smile, a playful look held in her blue eyes.
‘Just squeeze my hand. It’s almost over.’
She did as I said, her hand tightening around mine as she winced. I hated seeing her in this pain, but I knew it would be over soon. ‘Can’t believe I let you convince me to do this.’
‘You said you wanted a tattoo,’ I pointed out, remembering our conversation back in Rhodes. I’d not fully understood what she had been saying when she told me about her drunken idea for a tattoo, but now with the truth shared, I could understand how deeply she’d been hurting to want the words inked permanently on her body.
‘Scottie Sinclair is clean’
She laughed, the sound twinged with pain as the needle continued its work. ‘And you said something about exploring your S&M kink.’
‘Eh, two birds.’
Scottie rolled her eyes, paired with a shake of her head. I could still hardly believe her reaction when the car had pulled up outside the shop. A wild, bright smile. My girl was really a rebel at heart.
‘What was Ethan saying about your knee? You were there for a while.’ Concern twinged at the edges of a frown. She’d obviously seen that I’d struggled through the end of the game. ‘I tried to wait to see you after, but I had to go warm up.’
I hesitated, unsure what to say instead of the truth. Jon’s words played on the edge of my brain, his advice not to keep this from Scottie. I knew she should know, but I also knew she would force me to stop playing the doubles. I wasn’t ready to quit, not on myself or playing with her.
‘Oh, nothing new,’ I said, barely holding her gaze. ‘Just getting at me about doing my stretches. I need to stop sliding.’
She nodded, thinking to herself for a moment. ‘We can work on that. Could you manage a practise after this?’
I shook my head, still feeling the ache in my legs from the earlier match. She must be some sort of superhuman to want to keep playing tonight after going for three sets. ‘We should rest up tonight. We still need time to recover.’
‘Nico Kotas taking a night off?’ Her grin was wicked and unhinged, a dash of pride held in her eyes. ‘I have been a terrible influence on you.’
My heart thundered its rhythm inside my chest, her grin infections. ‘The worst.’
‘Alright, we’re done,’ Harry announced, sliding on his stool and bringing back a mirror. Scottie hopped up, clearly excited to see the final product. Anxiety hammered at me all over again. She’d let me surprise her with the design, a decision I was now sorely regretting. What if she didn’t like it? What if I’d permanently scarred her for life with a stupid little tattoo and she hated it forever and ever an—
‘I love it,’ she said, eyes glued to the mirror as her fingers tentatively traced the pink outline of the little ruby red strawberry, a perfect callback to Wimbledon.
‘Really? You like it?’
‘Of course.’ The way she smiled was everything I’d hoped for. That very smile kept me going during doubles. Every point we scored, every game we closed out, she’d send it my way and it would just about bring me to my knees. I wanted more of it, and there was no way I would give it up.
‘I got one to match,’ I added, twisting my bicep to show her my own fresh tattoo wrapped up in plastic to protect it. It sat inside the design already there, twisted up like she’s already managed to twist herself into my life. ‘It felt like a good idea to get one that was Wimbledon coded.’
‘It’s perfect.’
‘Really?’ Worry cracked at the edges of my question.
She stared at me blankly, her voice dry. ‘Yes, the thing I let you permanently tattoo onto my body is perfect.’ Even when she was sarcastic, she still managed to be my favourite person. ‘It’s really cute.’
She jumped off the chair, saying a thank you to Harry as he went through the after-care routine, handing over a healing lotion to help speed up the process. When he was done, she closed the gap between us, her lips meeting mine.
‘You know what this means, right?’
I hummed for a moment. ‘You’ve decided to go get a full sleeve of tennis tattoos?’
‘Nope,’ she replied, her eyes on mine. ‘We’ve gotta win this thing. We can’t get tattoos to commemorate the event, and then not win.’
I smiled. ‘Let’s give them hell, Sinclair.’
‘After you, Kotas.’