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)
After what feels like an eternity, Luca’s blazing eyes finally drift to mine, and I use the opportunity to covertly signal him with three fingers. Bull rush to spin counter.
My message received, Luca nods, winks, and looks away again. And a moment later, when the ball is snapped, Luca perfectly executes what I’ve instructed. In fact, not only does Luca get to the quarterback and take him down with a bone-crunching thud, the ball squeaks out of the guy’s hand on the way down and hits the turf, allowing one of our linemen to fall on it and secure a turnover.
It’s a best-case scenario for Luca: a sack with a forced fumble on his first series of the game. Not only is that enough to make him a hero and keep him alive for another week, it’s also enough for him to win our bet, as far as I’m concerned. The sex part, anyway. Granted, he’s only managed one sack so far, not three, but I feel like reasonable minds would agree a sack with a forced fumble is roughly equivalent to three ordinary ones.
Aw, who am I kidding? Even if reasonable minds wouldn’t agree on that exchange rate, all that matters is I’m suddenly feeling so turned on by Luca Maguire, my capacity for reasonable thought has deserted me. Indeed, I’m so turned on by that sack, you’d think there was a vibrator pressed firmly between my legs. So turned on, I’ve already decided something: No matter how many more sacks Luca gets or doesn’t during the rest of this game, that sexy man is getting laid tonight.
CHAPTER 24
Luca
“TWO SACKS!” MY mother bellows. “I got so excited during the first one with the forced fumble, I had to grab your father’s arm so I wouldn’t fall to the ground!”
Laughing, Dad says, “They’re for sure going to keep you now, Lukie!”
Levi adds, “From your mouth to God’s ears, Pops.”
“Coach Parker’s, anyway,” Roman says.
“Around here,” I quip, “God and Coach Parker are one and the same.”
I’m in bed in my hotel room, reveling in today’s personal triumph on a FaceTime call with my family members: my parents, Levi, Roman—who’s got Iris’s smiling face with him in his square—and Marco, whose square includes Nicola.
Even though the other three football players on the call have their own games and practices to worry about, they’ve all devoured videos of my highlights. Although to be fair, none of the other players on this call are playing in their team’s preseason game any time soon. Only guys on the bubble like me have the pleasure of doing that.
My parents couldn’t make it to my game today, unfortunately, thanks to a wedding they had to attend, but even so, they covertly watched the whole thing on Dad’s phone during the reception and said they didn’t miss a single minute of my playing time.
“Coach Parker’s already told me I’ll be playing again next week,” I report exuberantly. “He even said I’ll get even more reps.”
Roman shouts, “Never count a Maguire out, baby!” And, of course, a cheer rises up from every box on my screen. The Mastodons lost today’s game, thanks to a couple of embarrassing fiascos on special teams and two turnovers on offense that had nothing to do with me. But who cares about the overall scoreboard when it’s still only the preseason and I personally kicked ass at every turn? In the end, I got two sacks, the first with a forced fumble, and I also blocked, tackled, and applied pressure on the Admirals’ QB like a motherfucking beast.
“We’ll come to next week’s game to cheer you on,” Mom says excitedly. “We wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“Actually, maybe you should,” I reply. “Just in case you not being there today was part of my good luck.” I don’t need to explain further. Not in this family. Our whole lives, if one of us had a huge win or triumph, we all knew to do everything exactly the same as the last time, down to our underwear, to keep the good luck going, just in case changing even the slightest detail might make the football gods angry and spiteful.
“Shoot, you’re right,” Mom concedes. “Your luck will reset after the preseason, though, right?”
“If I make it that far, yeah. Of course it will.” That’s another thing. There are milestones along the way that reset the good luck. It’s a known fact, at least in my family.
Marco snickers. “Moriarty’s gotta be shaking in his cleats after the way you showed him up. You looked like a Pro Bowler out there, Luc.”
I scoff. “Moriarty knows he’s not going anywhere.”
Levi interjects, “Still, he’s got to be feeling the pressure.”
Roman agrees and adds, “Fat contract or not, Moriarty knows he’s got to bring his A game now, every time, or else the Mastodons have another extremely viable option at his position.”