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“Charlie, if you don’t get your arse out here this minute, we’re going to miss kick off.” Isaac’s voice carries through their shared flat.
“Keep it together,” Charlie yells back, walking down the hall from his room and out to the living room. “My hair won’t lay right.” He says, fiddling with the curls across his forehead.
“You’re making us late to fix your hair?” Isaac complains. “We’re going to a rugby match, no one’s going to be looking at your hair.”
Charlie shushes him, fingers still trying to get a singular curl to lie flat instead of sticking straight up from his head. “Put this on, and let's go,” Isaac says, snatching a black cap, the Bath rugby logo embroidered on it in blue, off the coffee table and tossing it at Charlie. “Making us late to my literal job all because of your hair.” Isaac grumples, shoving Charlie out the door and pulling it shut behind them.
It had been years since Charlie had been near a rugby pitch. The last time he stepped foot on one was during one of his last days of PE in secondary before starting his A-Levels. He looked around, squinting into the bright sunlight glinting off the green folding seats of The Rec. The stadium quickly filled with fans while he followed behind Isaac, while he expertly weaved his way through the growing crowd dressed in blue and black supporting the Bath rugby team, and towards the press box. Charlie knew Isaac would pick up random stories to write, supplementing his income while working on his debut novel, what Charlie didn’t expect was his best friend and flatmate to become a recurring feature on the popular Rugby World blog. Isaac explained to him that the owners of the blog loved the ‘refreshing’ point of view he was able to bring to the blog as a queer man who was a massive rugby fan, and the bonus of being able to tie in the Rugby For All Movement.
He followed Isaac into a small room, elevated above the regular setting, glass windows separating them from the crowds below. The seats closest to the windows facing the field already lined with cameras brandishing logos from different sports outlets and magazines. Isaac comfortably found his spot, took out his notebook, and patted the seat next to him for Charlie to sit down. “Remind me again, why did you feel the need to drag me to this?”
“You need to broaden your horizons, Charles. Even if you don’t remember the rules of rugby, you can at least appreciate the fresh air and the view.” Isaac says, winking and nodding his head towards the pitch.
Charlie watches as men in blue, black, and white striped jerseys and short black rugby shorts jog out onto the pitch. At first, he doesn’t get it. What’s so special about a bunch of lads running around and smashing into each other on a field? Don’t get him wrong, Charlie understands the athleticism behind the game. He appreciates the skill it takes to professionally play the sport, but what he didn’t understand was the fans. Why would anyone want to spend over an hour watching men crash into each other and toss a ball around? Couldn’t be Charlie, he’d honestly never understand why Isaac enjoyed it or why he kept taking offers to write for the rugby blog, sure the money was good, but Charlie was in for a boring eighty minutes. That was until Charlie saw it, or well him. Nelson was written across his shoulders above the blue number 10.
“Was waiting on you to find him,” Isaac says, his voice smug.
Charlie coughs, dragging his eyes away from the pitch where the man was now stretching with his teammates. Too distracted by his already short shorts riding higher on his strong thighs when he moves. Thick muscles on display in the warm sun, it was hard to believe a man of his size was that flexible, Charlie thinks, watching him sink into a low squat before kicking a leg out into a slow lunge. “Don’t know what you mean.”
Isaac arches a brow. “Nelson, number ten. That’s Nick Nelson, we’re actually here to watch him. He’s just come up from semi-pro team since their normal half-fly was injured.”
Charlie looks at Isaac like he’d asked him to figure out time travel. “Nick’s young, only two years out of uni, so he was playing semi-pro. He’s been playing very well, so I’m doing a piece covering him. We’ll go to press after this, and then I’ve put in to come to a practice or two next week to get some good quotes from him. And a half-fly is the team's playmaker, Nick’s responsible for directing the back line.”
Charlie nods along, trying to listen to Isaac while also not to drool when Nick lifts his jersey to whip the sweat from his face, revealing soft abs and a chest Charlie would love to bury his face in. “They’ve asked me to cover him specifically because he’s one of the first players for Bath to be openly out.” Charlie’s head snaps sideways, finally giving Isaac his full attention. Forgetting for a second that his friend was aware of Charlie’s preferences for more athletically built men.
“Huh, you wouldn’t say. It should be a good article. Very informative.” Charlie trails off, watching the way Nick pulls his knee to his chest while standing on one foot. “Any chance you can refresh my memory on the rules for rugby in the next ten minutes?”
Isaac laughs, slowly explaining the different ways a team could score, how a player could land themselves in the sin bin, or earn a red card. He made sure to pay extra attention to explaining anything to have to do with the back line or Nick’s position. “The article should pretty much write itself, from what I’ve heard, Nick’s a total sweetheart. He’s been involved in the Rugby For All campaign since he started playing at Leeds. Apparently he came out as bi while still at secondary and refused to let the stigma of uni or professional rugby being ‘for the lads’ push him back into the closet.”
Charlie knew it was a problem. His little daydreams about attractive men he’d see in public, little crushes bubbling just below the surface and disappearing when he’d get off the tube or leave the restaurant. He’d spoken to Geoff about it, feeling that it had to have something to do with his OCD. Latching onto a stranger and imagining going on a date with them, that couldn’t be healthy behavior, only to find that having a healthy imagination and not acting on those thoughts was a completely normal thing. Unfortunately for Charlie, it led to Geoff making him talk about his dislike for talking to strangers and how that put up a barrier if Charlie ever wanted to meet someone, since he wasn’t too keen on using dating apps.
The match starts, and Charlie tries to do his best to watch the team as a whole, really giving rugby a shot since Isaac loves it so much. He wanted to give himself something else to talk to his friend, especially when Charlie would hear him shouting at the TV on the weekends. But as much as Charlie tries, his eyes seem to always drift back to number ten running up and down the pitch. He wasn’t sure if it was the way Nick moved so effortlessly across the pitch or the way the sun glinted off his hair, bringing out flecks of red when he smiled and waved at the crowd when his face appeared on the jumbotron after an impressive play.
“Think I’ll make a rugby fan out of you yet?” Isaac jokes, elbow gently digging into Charlie's ribs while they make their way down a hallway, Charlie assumes goes under the stadium by the sound of a thousand feet walking above them.
“You’ll make me a Nick Nelson fan, if anything,” Charlie says, earning him another elbow to the ribs.
They reach the press table, the team's captain and coaches already answering questions for the press, the flash from multiple cameras lighting up their faces. “Coach!” A young reporter in the front row shouts, hand up in the air. “Can we get Nelson out here?”
“Spencer!” The coach yells, drawing the attention of a short (well, shorter than the rest of the players by a few inches). “Go grab Nelson.”
A few minutes pass, reporters asking different questions about how the team played and their upcoming match against the Newcastle Falcons. The crowd comes to life when the side door opens and Nick Nelson walks out. Charlie feels his heart speed up and his mouth goes dry, while others in the room were on the edge of their seats to be in the same room as the player, the winning team's coach had just called ‘the most valuable on the pitch today’
Two days later, Charlie is woken up by a knock on his bedroom door and the sound of Isaac coughing. “What?” He asks, his voice still thick with sleep, when Isaac pushes the door open.
“How much do you love me?” Isaac asks.
“Not enough to get out of bed before 9am on a Saturday.” Charlie jokes.
Charlie was out of bed by 9:05am, breakfast eaten, and on his way to The Rec to interview Nick Nelson for his sick friend. Charlie makes his way through the familiar stadium, Isaac explaining that Bath normally held practice at Farleigh House, but today's training wasn’t for the whole team, just to help Nick keep getting up to speed since he was new to the team. Charlie shows his ID at the front gate and is directed to the pitch where he watches Nick and five other players do what Charlie assumes is a scrimmage. They stop more than they did during a normal game, discussing how a ball was thrown or a tackle missed, only to start back up where they left off. He watches, doing his best to pay attention to the game and not the way Nick’s thighs look in his rugby shorts or the way his arm muscles bulge at the cuff of his t-shirt.
Once they finish, the man Charlie assumes is the coach points to him from across the field, saying something to Nick before he’s jogging over to meet him. “Hi, you must be Isaac,” Nick says.
“Hi, um, no. Isaac’s my friend, my flatmate. I’m Charlie.” He says, trying his best to keep his gaze on Nick’s face and not his exposed abs while he wipes his face with his practice jersey. “Isaac was ill this morning, and I work in publishing, so he thought I’d be a suitable substitute for your interview.”
“More than suitable, I’d say,” Nick says, smiling, and if he hadn’t already been red from practice, Charlie could have sworn that he was blushing. “For the interviewer, since you work in publishing, that is, you must know your way around a simple sports article.”
Charlie squeezes his notebook in his hand, feeling his heart jump to his throat. “You’d be surprised, pretty sure I skipped the sports writing day in training.”
“What do you normally work on?” Nick asks, his eyes never leaving Charlie's face, looking at him with true interest.
“Mostly historical pieces, both fiction and non-fiction.”
A smile splits across Nick's face, causing his eyes to crinkle and Charlie’s stomach to tie itself in knots. “Oh, so you’re a proper little nerd.”
“Huh, rich coming from you. Rugby lad.” Charlie says, hoping his tone matches Nick’s lighthearted joke.
Nick gives a small chuckle, “We normally do one-on-one interviews in the changing room, let the reporters have a little look around, and whatnot. The rest of the guys should be cleared out of there by now since it wasn’t a full practice today.” Charlie nods, agreeing, unable to form words when Nick reaches out and touches the small of his back to guide him in the right direction.
Nick leads Charlie through the same hallways Isaac had two weeks prior, and through a door labeled ‘Bath Changing Room’ Nick pushes the door open, and suddenly Charlie's vision is taken over by blue and white. The room was made up of sleek white cubbies, each player's name on little plaques above each cubby, with red cushions on the bench Charlie assumed the players sat on to lace up their cleats. A soft blue light emitted from lights around the room, making the back wall that was painted a deep blue look as if it was glowing. Charlie noted the TV mounted on the wall and wondered what the players would watch.
“I don’t have a designated spot, but since I’m filling in for Russell.”
“Would that be something that you want, to move up off of reserve?” Charlie asks, flipping open his notebook. While it wasn’t one of the questions Isaac had written down for him, he felt that it was a good way to start the interview.
“Definitely,” Nick says, sitting down, kicking his long legs out in front of him and motioning for Charlie to take a seat. “That’s always been the goal. I am to get pulled up from reserve only two years out of uni.”
“Oh wait, Isaac asked if I would record this. That’s fine, all right?” Nick nods, watching Charlie with patient eyes while he pulls up the voice recorder on his phone and sets it down next to him. “You went to Leeds for uni, right? Played rugby there?”
“Yep, all three years.”
“Was rugby something you started in uni or?” Charlie trails off, watching the way Nick fidgets with the hem of his shirt.
“Way before,” Nick chuckles. “I’ve got a brother who’s four years older than me, he played his first year of secondary, so I would have been in year three, I think. Well, I watched him play and loved it, so I begged my mum to let me do a summer league, and I guess I’ve just been doing it ever since.”
“That’s sweet, you were influenced by your brother to play, I bet he’s happy for you now. Does he still play at all?”
Nick’s expression goes tight for just a moment, eyes eyebrows push together, and his lips turn into a thin line. “No. David quit after his first year. He did rowing at uni but not professionally.”
Charlie sensed the shift in Nick's voice, while he wasn’t as versed in doing interviews as Isaac was, he could tell that David wasn’t a topic that Nick was too keen to keep talking about. “Now you’ll have to get me through these next questions. Isaac’s the resident rugby fan in our house. My knowledge comes from a few brief games during secondary PE, one time ending with me taking a ball to the face and landing myself in the nurse's office.”
“Did you forget to use your hands? I’ve heard they can be very useful when trying to catch a ball.”
Charlie scoffs, reaching over and shoving Nick in the shoulder before he can stop himself. “Er, sorry.”
“It’s alright," Nick says. This time, Charlie is sure he’s blushing.
Charlie looks down at his notebook, reading the first question from Isaac. “Tell me about the communication between you and your scrum-half?”
Nick launches into a description of the game, saying words like ruck and maul that Charlie underlines in the notebook, reminding himself to look them up later. He’s thankful that Isaac suggested recording the interview, while he was doing his best to take notes, he was in awe of the man in front of him. Nick was halfway through describing how, in his position as half-fly, he had to make sure he was in constant verbal and non-verbal communication with the team's scrum-half. Waving his hands around and talking quickly, the enthusiasm and love Nick had for this game Charlie knew little about was showing. And while he felt bad, at this moment, he couldn’t have been happier that Isaac picked this morning to get sick.
“You really love playing, don’t you?” Charlie asks once Nick is finished.
“I rambled a bit, so I’ve been told. But, yeah. I was alright in classes, always got decent grades, never close to failing or anything, but out there. On the pitch, I feel at home. I know how to call a play and direct the other players without thinking twice.”
“Have you ever thought about what you’d like to do after rugby?” Charlie asks, once again going off Isaac’s script.
“I think I’d like to coach, maybe not at a professional level or anything, but at a school or a youth camp. I did some coaching for the Leeds summer program while at uni, and I enjoyed it. Working with the kids was fun, I like helping them learn and grow as players.”
Charlie glances down at Isaac’s next question, wanting to stay on track, knowing if he doesn't, the questions might soon turn personal, and that wasn’t the interview Nick had signed on to do. “In your opinion, where do you think the team needs to improve before the next match?”
“We’ve been a bit weak on passing lately, I feel like. Making sure we’re 100% on passing is crucial for maintaining momentum and creating opportunities to score. We’ve been in a bit of an adjustment period with Russell being out, but I think we’ll get to where we need to be by the next game. That’s what this extra practice was for today, passing drills.”
Charlie nods, remembering the match he’d watched and how quickly the ball would sometimes move between players. “What was your game plan going into this match?
“You a secret Newcastle fan?” Nick asks, chuckling, it takes Charlie a second to remember that Isaac mentioned Bath was playing Newcastle next. “I’ve been sitting down some with Lee, he’s our attack coach, and the other lads on the team that play half-fly. We’ve been working on revamping some of the plays to fit more of my style. Every player plays a little bit differently, even if we’re doing the same position. I’m a bit taller than Russell, and I do more kicking than he does, so we’ve been making a few changes. Can’t tell you more than that without giving away our whole gameplay.” Nick says, winking at Charlie.
It was now Charlie’s turn to blush, feeling the heat move up his neck and across his cheeks. He coughs, shaking his head and pretending to look down and check his notes. “How do you stay composed when you’re kicking under pressure?”
“I knew I wanted to be a half-fly pretty early on. I went to a rugby summer camp the summer before year nine and met a coach there who was really passionate and helped me out a lot. His name was Jordan, and he taught me to only focus on the goal, nothing else. It sounds easy, but learning to tune out the other players and fans while kicking a ball takes a lot of work. A kick can make or break a game sometimes, so the pressure is unreal at times. When it’s a time like that, I just gotta put myself in my head and focus on the ball. I know that sounds silly, but if I can just focus on that one thing, it’s like the rest of the world melts away. There’s no noise from the fans or other players.”
“I get it. I play the drums, and when I’m learning a new piece, I have to set aside time so I can focus and not think about anything else.”
“You play the drums? That’s really cool.”
Charlie pauses, reviewing Isaac’s notes, a bit bummed out that there wasn’t anything in here about Nick’s work with Rugby For All. “What’s been your favorite thing to be involved in outside of the playing since joining pro rugby?” Charlie asks before he can stop himself.
Nick blinks, not expecting the question. “Rugby has always been my passion, but there was a time I was worried I’d have to quit.” Nick pauses, crossing his arms over his chest and taking a deep breath. “I’ve talked about this before on my social media and the team's account, but never in an interview.”
“Oh, um, you don’t have to. That is if you don’t want to.” Charlie starts, trying to give Nick an out for the question he feels like he shouldn’t have asked.
Nick shakes his head, “I realized that I’m bisexual during secondary, and rugby has always had a stereotype of being a manly sport, very laddish. I thought about quitting, cause I was scared how my teammates would take it, worried they wouldn't want me in the changing room. So, because of that, I didn’t come out until year thirteen, sure some of my close mates and my mum knew, but no one else. I was at a match in London, and I saw my first Rugby For All advertisement. That’s when it clicked. That’s when I realized that I didn’t have to hide who I was just because I love a sport. The movement reached out to me during my final year at Leeds and asked if I’d like to do some promo work, and I couldn't be happier working with them. They’re an amazing foundation, and I hope that anyone reading this article knows that rugby is here for everyone, that we play for all of you.”
“Do you think things would have been different if you were exposed to the movement in secondary?”
Nick shrugs, “Don’t know. Probably, just glad I saw it when I did because I was truly considering not playing at uni.”
“Some of the players at my secondary school could have benefited from their message,” Charlie says, his voice soft, spoken like he wished for Nick not to hear. He looks up, finding Nick giving him a questioning look. “Had a bit of trouble with some rugby players in year nine, since I’m gay.”
A look of shock and recognition covers Nick’s face. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that.”
“All in the past. Well, I think that’s everything I needed, well, Isaac needed.” Charlie says, standing, stowing his phone in his pocket, and taking one last glance around the room.
“Would you let me know when the article is out? I’d like to read it.” Nick says, his hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck.
“Oh, yeah, I can ask Isaac to email his contact so they could let you know.”
“Any chance I could know sooner? They sometimes take ages to get those things to us.”
“Well, it’ll be on Rugby World, so I guess you could be checking that. Isaac didn’t tell me when his publication was.”
Nick nods, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “And if I asked for your number so you could let me know?”
Charlie smiles, little fireworks going off in his mind. “Just so I could let you know about the article?”
“And maybe to ask if you’d like to go on a date with me sometime?”
“Hhhmm, I don’t know. Proper nerd like myself dating the rugby lad.” Charlie teases.
“Charlie,” Nick groans, watching Charlie pull out his phone and open a new contact page. Nick types his name and number in and shoots himself a quick text before handing Charlie his phone back.
Charlie walks into their flat, feeling happier than he had when he’d left, and finds Isaac on the couch surrounded by tissues. Just like he left him. “How’d it go?” Isaac asks, his voice hoarse.
“Really well, got all your questions answered as well as some filler info. I emailed you the voice recording.” Charlie says, setting the notebook down on the end table next to Isaac’s current book. “Oh, and if you need anything else from Nick, I’ve got a date with him next Sunday.”
“Oh my god, are you kidding me?” Isaac says, sitting up faster than Charlie had seen him move in the past twenty four hours, tissues falling to the floor. Charlie giggles and plops down on the end of the couch, telling Isaac exactly how the interview went.