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)
I take a deep breath and tell myself to focus on my pregame routine and ignore Chelsea and Moriarty. You can’t afford to get distracted or amped up, dumbass. You need to have your best game yet, not only for yourself but for Chelsea—to get her that job in operations she wants so much.
I can’t wait for tomorrow and the elation and relief it will bring. Once I’m past all this constant make-or-break stress, once I’ve made it onto that active roster and Chelsea’s got the operations job, my life will be a dream come true in all ways. I’ll finally be able to shut up my critics—all the assholes online who call me the “defective Maguire.” And I’ll have my girl by my side, too. Out in the open. I haven’t talked to Chelsea about that second thing yet because I don’t want to jinx it, but why would we need to keep things a secret anymore? People date in workplaces all the time. As long as one person isn’t the boss of the other, nobody cares. And in our case, since Chelsea will be in operations instead of coaching, why would anyone care about us? Even her father wouldn’t care, I’d bet. Why would he? She’s an adult now. Not some teenager he’s got to protect. And I’d be a full-fledged member of the team with a contract. Surely, if I make it clear to Coach Parker that I’m in love with his daughter and not just messing around with her for kicks, he wouldn’t care.
True, I’ll still be a Maguire tomorrow and Chelsea will still be a Parker, but I can’t fathom Chelsea genuinely cares about that rivalry anymore. At least, not enough to insist on continued secrecy with me once my spot is secured. Which is why, when we’re celebrating our mutual good news tomorrow, I’m not only going to tell her I want her to be my girlfriend, officially. Out in the open. I’m going to admit I love her, too.
A commotion in my peripheral vision draws my attention. It’s our opponent for tonight’s game, the Raptors, taking the field for their pregame warm-up without any fanfare or introduction. I glance toward Chelsea, since her brother Nate just walked onto the field with his teammates, and she’s already taking off running toward him, her arms flailing and her squealing energy apparent even from here.
Like Moriarty and all the other veterans across the league today, Nate Parker, the veteran middle linebacker for the Raptors, is suited up for the first time this preseason. Will he actually play? Who knows. But he’s here and in full pads and ready for anything.
When Chelsea reaches her brother about thirty yards from where I’m sitting on the ground, she takes a flying leap into his muscular arms, and he bear-hugs her and swings her around like a rag doll.
Reflexively, I glance at my rival to see if he’s followed his personal coach, but to my relief, Moriarty has just launched into a string of warm-up lunges that takes him in the opposite direction. Perfect. Chelsea’s met my entire family; it’s only fitting for me to meet one of her brothers.
I get up and stride toward the pair. As I close in on them, I’m intercepted by my good buddy, Jeremy Calhoun, who’s suited up in Raptors white and green and wearing a huge smile on his gregarious face.
“Maguire!” he booms gleefully, and we embrace and back slap each other.
We chat for a bit, but I’m distracted the whole time by Chelsea talking to her brother over there. So, I quickly congratulate Jeremy on getting picked up by the Raptors, wish him well in his continued pursuit of a roster spot, and tell him I’ll catch up with him some more after the game.
Finally, I make my way over to Chelsea again. And when I get close to her and her brother, it’s just in time to hear my mathlete saying, “… and when I found out he’s got a state-of-the-art gym at his house, I figured it was the perfect opportunity to fit in a workout with Luca while I was out there visiting Daisy, anyway.”
Nate’s the one facing me as Chelsea’s saying that, and when his gaze drifts over her head and lands on me, he says, “Speak of the devil. Luca Maguire. Hey, Ninety-Five. It’s great to meet you.”
I’m surprised by the warmth of his greeting. Based on the way Chelsea always talks about the name Maguire being a “slur” to her “people,” I thought he’d at least razz me in greeting. But then again, Nate isn’t the brother who got decimated by Roman twice—that was Lincoln—so perhaps that makes Nate far more capable of separating real life from football, unlike his stubborn little sister.
“Hey, Nate.” I shake his extended hand. “It’s great to meet you, too.”