Chapter 3 Chelsea #3
It’s a lovely speech. And mostly true. But I know in my heart the part about Dad not caring that Luca’s a Maguire is total bullshit.
Dad despises the Maguire name as much as I do.
In fact, I think it’s fair to say hearing that name gives him mild PTSD-like symptoms, every time.
But what else can he possibly say in this moment, when his star edge rusher is holding out and his boss clearly thinks bringing Luca here will shake things up?
My mind is racing.
Luca, Luca, Luca.
I can’t believe I’m going to see him again. Albeit from a distance. Obviously, I can’t get close to Luca and let him see me and then quite possibly recognize me and blab about what we did.
Shoot.
I just realized Luca, a linebacker, coming to camp means I can’t help Coach Martinez, the linebacker coach, like I’ve been begging Dad and Raul to let me do.
Although the good news is it sounds like Luca will exit quickly, so hopefully, by the time Dad and Raul let me shift into that role, assuming they do, Luca will almost certainly be long gone by then.
But what about my other problem? Namely, the fact that I’m going to be one of five player liaisons at camp.
In that role, I’ll be staying at the players’ hotel across the street from the facility, which means I could very well bump into Luca in a hotel hallway or in the lobby if I’m not extremely careful.
I’ll definitely need to find out Luca’s room assignment so I can request a room on a different floor.
Also, while Luca’s still here, I’ll make sure to go to and from the players’ hotel at odd hours so there’s little chance of me running into him.
I sigh with relief.
Yes.
That should work out okay.
Surely I can finagle this unexpected curveball without one day and night of extremely bad decision-making as a teenager coming back to ruin everything for me here.
What a bummer. In another world, I would have loved to see Luca again and at least chat with him.
Chatting with him was so much fun way back when.
Man, could that boy make me laugh. In fact, back then, I enjoyed my conversations with Luca so much, I couldn’t stop googling his name for updates on his stats and photos of his personal life when I returned to Northwestern.
Of course, once Luca’s personal photos made it clear he was an even bigger player off the field than on, that made it easier to stop fantasizing about meeting up with him again at the upcoming Nebraska/Northwestern game and begging him to pretty-please do that thing he’d offered to do to me after all, the thing I’d been kicking myself for refusing at the time.
On the contrary, I ordered myself to stop thinking about Luca Maguire at all.
Ever again. I told myself thoughts of him were completely off-limits.
It was admittedly a tall order to forget about Luca at first, but after a few months, once I got my first couple flings under my belt, I finally managed it.
Mostly. Yes, I still thought about him now and again, simply because a) his brother was constantly in the news in relation to whatever recent game he’d played for his NFL team, the Crusaders, and b) it turned out my first make-out sessions back at school—and then, eventually, sex itself—paled in comparison to the electrifying, intoxicating sensation of making out with Luca Maguire.
Not to mention, nobody made me laugh like Luca did, either. Not even close.
Time heals all wounds, though. When I eventually agreed to become someone’s girlfriend for a while, I threw myself into that relationship and stopped romanticizing Luca.
Admittedly, I still had sex dreams about him now and again.
Which was only natural, considering how scorching hot and impossible to duplicate our chemistry had been.
But mostly, Luca eventually faded into the recesses of my mind and became nothing but a pleasant, locked-away memory of that one time I did something extremely forbidden and naughty as a teenager with someone who curled my toes like nobody else.
I thought that secret would remain safe and secure forever.
But now, clearly, I’m suddenly in extreme danger of my secret getting out.
Across the room, the top scouting guy says, “On a positive note, everyone I talked to about Luca praised his universal likeability. ‘Everyone loves Luca.’ That’s what they all said.”
Dad scoffs. “That and ten bucks won’t even get me a hamburger these days, Frank.”
The scout chuckles. “I know likeability isn’t reason enough to keep him around. I’m just saying it’s reason enough to give him a shot, especially with Moriarty holding out. And reason enough to keep him around beyond that, all other things being equal.”
With a roll of his eyes, Dad looks down at his iPad. “Okay, enough about the Edge Rusher with the Famous Last Name. I’m sick of talking about him. What’s next on our list?”
The conversation moves on to the next topic on the meeting agenda, one that’s fairly mundane, so I use the time to tap out a distress signal to my best friend.
Me: Red alert! Remember the hot football player I made out with freshman year in Bloomington? HE’S COMING TO TRAINING CAMP!
Daisy’s the only person in the world who knows what I did that night with a handsome prince from a rival kingdom.
Other than breathlessly whispering the story to her and writing about it briefly in my diary that night, my secret about Luca and the magical time we spent together has been locked securely away inside my own head all these years.
Daisy: YASSSS!!!!!
Me: NOOO!!!! It’s not a good thing, mofo! He might say something to someone about what we did! Also, he’s a linebacker—the same position I was hoping to assist with before the end of training camp!
Daisy: It’s fate! Maybe this time, you’ll finally let the poor, blue-balled boy give you the O he so kindly offered you, baby girl.
Me: OUT OF THE QUESTION. I need to stay far, far away from him while he’s here so he doesn’t recognize me and say something that ruins my life.