Page 127 of The Head Game

Nico was legitimately too tired to deal with the rest of it and he still couldn’t be on a tiny screen much without getting a headache.

He was thinking of feigning a fake one now though.

Today, at the meeting, there had been a lot of raised voices and a lot of words thrown around and now everyone was back where they’d started. It was all about Nico’s brand and how it needed to pivot and Nico just … didn’t fucking care.

He was tired of it all and desperately wanted an Undo button so he could go back to the beginning of the previous summer and march up to the team doc and tell him something was wrong with his head.

But he hadn’t and now he was living this nightmare, and he was so fucking over the whole thing it wasn’t even funny.

“Okay, we’re done,” August said, rising to his feet and interrupting the babble of noise. “Nico is tired and he needs to rest.”

Somehow, that firm but polite tone shut everyone up.

In no time at all, Nico’s American and European agents excused themselves, signed out of the Zoom chat, and his parents went off to their respective rooms.

Nico glanced over at August. God, how was he so good at people wrangling?

“Auggie, I think I love you,” Nico said with a grateful sigh as he staggered over to the couch and dropped onto it, landing on his stomach.

August smirked, clearly not taking him seriously. “For what?”

“For managing this shit.” Nico vaguely waved the arm that hung off the couch. “I was just about at my breaking point and … poof, they were all gone.”

“I could tell you were flagging.” August took a seat in his usual spot at one end of the couch and patted his own thigh. “C’mon, time for a nap. If we’re going to Fowler’s house tonight, you need to rest.”

“What’re you going to do?” Nico asked around a jaw-cracking yawn. He settled into his favorite position, resting his head on August’s lap.

“Read.” He held up his phone. “Don’t worry. I can keep myself occupied. I’ve gotten pretty good at it lately.”

“‘k. Pet my head?”

August huffed but a moment later, Nico felt the blunt pressure that sent pleasurable tingles through him.

Before Nico could blink, he was gently being shaken. “Hey, Nico, c’mon. Time to get up.”

“Hmm?” He cracked one eye open.

“If we’re going to Fowler’s, you need to get up.”

“I just laid down,” he said, yawning as he straightened. He squinted at the wide windows. No, it was dark outside now. “Shit, how long was that nap?”

He didn’t even remember falling asleep.

August glanced at his smart watch. “Couple of hours.”

“I feel like I’m turning into Rip Van Winkle,” Nico groused. “Sleeping my life away.”

But he rose to his feet and stretched.

August snorted. “I’m surprised you know who Rip Van Winkle is.”

“I can read, you know,” Nico protested.

“Yes, but do you? For fun I mean.”

He shrugged. “I mean … not really. But I did go to school. They made us read the classics there and I remember some stuff.”

August’s glance was skeptical but all he said was, “C’mon, we can discuss literature in the car. Go get ready.”

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