Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 121095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
“Sure,” Walker says. “Why not?” But the look he flashes me tells me he truly doesn’t give a shit what I can do with Luca Maguire or anyone else.
You know what? Fuck Bellamy. Suddenly, I feel invigorated and determined. Hell-bent on proving him wrong. True, me being assigned to Luca of all people is going to present massive problems for me, in terms of keeping my secret under wraps. But I’ll manage that somehow. Seeing as how my father’s mind appears to be made up about this, I might as well make the best of the situation and at least try to use it to my advantage. Walker Bellamy thinks nothing and nobody could convince him to give me that job in operations? Well, I’m going to change his mind. And I’m going to use Luca Maguire to do it.
“All right,” I say, straightening up with fierce determination. “I’ll babysit Luca and coach him while I’m at it, too.”
“Good girl.”
“And I’ll return that man to the glory of his college days. So much so, you’ll both want to keep him around, even after Moriarty comes to camp.”
Both Dad and Bellamy snicker at that last part, but I don’t care if they don’t believe me. I’m drinking my own Kool-Aid now.
“I have one tiny request, though,” I say, addressing my father. “Could you tell Luca you’ve personally assigned me to him? As his personal coach, I mean. Not as his babysitter. Otherwise, it’s going to take way too long to get him to listen to me, and I don’t have a lot of time here.”
Dad looks deeply sympathetic. “I tell you what. I promise I’ll talk to him after my opening remarks to let him know I’ve assigned you to watch over him—as his babysitter, thanks to that stunt he just pulled.”
“But Dad—”
“And during that conversation, I’ll also let him know you’re a phenomenal linebacker coach, so he’d be smart to use his time with you wisely. But that’s all I can do for you, sweetheart, because, trust me, your head coach of a daddy telling one of his players to respect you ain’t gonna get you anywhere. If you’re going to make this work, you’re going to have to earn that man’s respect the good old-fashioned way, all by yourself.”
CHAPTER 8
Luca
CHELSEA HASN’T LOOKED at me.
Not once.
Not even when I put myself in her direct line of sight earlier. Not even when she walked past me to stand at the back of the players to listen to her father’s opening remarks. True, she was walking with some other staffers and I was standing in a packed crowd of players. But still. Given our history, the way she kept averting her eyes felt unnatural and intentional. At the very least, her eyes should have grazed over my face at some point, which then by all rights should have made her stop and stare at me in complete shock.
Although … hold up. As Coach Parker’s daughter, Chelsea must have already known about me coming to camp today, even before she walked onto the field! Which means Chelsea’s most definitely been avoiding eye contact with me on purpose this whole time. I know we met in Bloomington years ago, but there’s no way she doesn’t remember me. I’m a memorable guy! Plus, she knew my name was Luca Maguire back then, and I was a football player, so there’s no chance my presence here now wouldn’t ring any bells for her.
“And that’s how we’re going to build a winning team this season,” Coach Parker says with enthusiasm, as my wandering thoughts about Chelsea loosen their chokehold on me. “With heart, grit, discipline, and teamwork,” he adds. “And most importantly, with preparation, preparation, preparation.”
I zone out again. Opening remarks by coaches are always the same thing, basically.
Man, I still can’t believe Chelsea the Mathlete is here. For seven long years, I’ve thought about her and felt a torrent of conflicting emotions every time. Tingles about the amazing conversations we had, a major boner about our hot make-out session, and shame and embarrassment about the way things ended, thanks to me pushing too hard and scaring her off. Why’d I do that? Chelsea told me to take it super slow, and then I barreled right ahead and offered to give her an orgasm. The memory haunts me to this day. In fact, barely a week has gone by that I haven’t thought about that awful moment.
Although right now, I must admit, I’m wondering if I can even trust my memories and feelings about that night, given that it turns out Chelsea the Mathlete is actually Chelsea Parker. Why the fuck did Chelsea make it seem like she didn’t know the first thing about football, when her father is a legendary coach? I don’t get. And if she lied to me about that major thing, then what else did she lie about as well? Was anything out of her mouth the truth?