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)
Luca takes a bite of bacon and shakes his head while chewing it. “You can babysit me all you like. In fact, please do. Sounds like fun, come to think of it. But that’s it.”
“Listen, I understand it’s going to take a leap of faith for you to put your trust in me. But I promise I know the linebacker position backward and forward. Add to that skill set my math and statistics background, and I know I can offer you—”
“Is a kid who’s taken a chemistry class but never worked in a lab a professional chemist?”
I sigh. “I can see why you’d make that comparison, but it’s not applicable here. I assure you, I’m far more qualified than most professional assistant coaches, even though it doesn’t look like it on paper. Please, give me one chance to prove myself to you, and—”
“Even if all that was true, which I highly doubt, it wouldn’t matter anyway.”
“Why?”
“Because trust is crucial to the player–coach relationship, Chelsea, and the stark fact remains that I don’t trust you.”
“Because I didn’t tell you I’m Coach Parker’s daughter?”
“Because every word out of your mouth was a lie.”
I scoff. “That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”
“Not at all. You acted like you didn’t know jack shit about football, and yet you come from a hugely famous football family. You’re football royalty, Chelsea, with two NFL linebackers for brothers—and one of them is even an edge rusher, like me! And yet, you pretended you’d never even heard of any position except quarterback.”
I snicker. “Yeah, that part was actually kind of fun to act out.”
“Glad making a fool out of me amused you so damned much.”
“Oh, come on, Luca. I’m from a diehard Buckeye family, and your big brother is the poster child for the Wolverines. You’re a Hatfield and I’m a McCoy, and I didn’t want it getting back to my father or brothers or anyone else I’d flirted with a Hatfield.”
“You’re saying you lied like a rug to me because of a stupid football rivalry?”
“Of course. But putting that aside, why on earth would I bother telling you my whole life’s story when I knew I’d never see you again? I knew you went to Nebraska and I went to Northwestern, so—”
“Northwestern?” Luca whisper-shouts with a slap of his big palm onto the slick, laminate table. “You said you went to U of Chicago!”
Crap. I forgot about that. With heat in my cheeks, I look around the noisy cafeteria to make sure nobody is paying us any mind. When it’s obvious the coast is clear, I lean into Luca and whisper-shout, “Yes, because I didn’t want you somehow tracking me down and/or bragging to someone you’d made out with Coach Parker’s daughter!”
“Nice try, but you told me that lie before we made out.”
“Okay, but I told you that lie when I’d already started flirting with you, which only proves the point. Obviously, I thought merely flirting with a Maguire was a mortal sin. Something to keep under wraps.”
Luca shakes his head. “I can’t believe I stupidly got you a long-stemmed rose tied with ribbons in the colors of the University of Chicago.”
My heart squeezes at the memory. “That wasn’t stupid, Luca. It was adorable and sweet.”
His dark eyes are blazing. Clearly, the memory has triggered him. “No, it was dumb as fuck, because you weren’t the person you were pretending to be at all, and like a total idiot, I bought all your lies, hook, line, and sinker.”
I roll my eyes. “Would you stop being so goddamned dramatic? Jesus, Luca. Okay, I lied about a few minor things to make sure nobody in Buckeye Nation, including my family, ever found out I’d flirted with the enemy. But otherwise, I was totally me the whole time. Think about it. Who would ever fake being that big a dork?”
Luca snort-laughs, and the anger in his expression from a moment ago is gone. “You flirted with the enemy? Who’s being dramatic now?”
“That’s not dramatic; it’s factual. It doesn’t matter that I went to Northwestern and you went to Nebraska. I’ve been raised as a Buckeye and you’ve been raised as a Wolverine, and you know it. Don’t even try to deny it.”
He pulls a snarky face. “Wow. Roman always says the loser in a rivalry takes it way more seriously than the winner, and you’ve just proved him right.”
I shoot daggers at him. “First of all, this is a Satan-free zone. Don’t bring up that name again, especially out of nowhere and without warning. Talk about a jump scare. And second of all, it’s not like I was Mata Hari on a mission to get state secrets out of you in Bloomington, Indiana. I omitted some irrelevant information to keep my identity a secret because the college football world is a small one and I knew I’d never see you again.”