Chapter 9 Chelsea #4
“Luca, come on. You can’t rely on speed and strength like you did before.
You need to start working smarter and harder.
Surely, you know that.” I itemize some of the things Luca needs to improve on, and he looks increasingly annoyed with me.
In wrap-up, I say, “That’s why you need a whole new bag of tricks, supplied by me.
I’ve analyzed several variants of basic pressure and quick pressure rates, specifically as pertaining to you, and I’m positive I can improve your stats by a significant margin. ”
He takes another big bite of food but says nothing.
“You’re on your third team in four years, remember? And you didn’t start last year. What do you have to lose at this point?”
Luca’s dark eyes soften with earnestness. “Everything.”
His vulnerability hits me like a ton of bricks. He’s right, of course. His football life is at stake here. “That’s fair,” I say on an exhale. “Okay. I tried my best to convince you. Thank you for hearing me out. I fully respect your decision.”
That’s a lie. I don’t respect his decision. Not yet, anyway. Not when I’ve still got one last card to play. A little card called FOMO. It’s the oldest trick in the book, but I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t at least try it.
Glancing past Luca’s broad shoulder, I quickly locate the perfect target for my final Hail Mary at the next table. Jeremy Calhoun.
“If you’ll excuse me,” I say tightly, “I’m going to find someone else to coach now, since you’re clearly not interested.
” With Luca’s dark eyes trained on me like lasers, I rise from the table and beeline over to Calhoun nearby.
“Hey, you’re Jeremy Calhoun, right? Middle linebacker, Nebraska?
” Like the assassin I am, I’m making sure to speak loudly enough for Luca to overhear every word.
“That’s me. And you’re Coach Parker’s daughter, right?”
“Chelsea. Yep. I don’t know if you heard, but I’ll be helping Coach Martinez with the linebackers’ squad during camp, so I wanted to introduce myself to you.”
“Right on.”
“Coach Martinez was talking about me maybe working one-on-one with one of his players throughout camp. This would be in addition to all the regular stuff. Would that arrangement be of interest to you, if you were selected as the player for this one-one-one coaching arrangement?”
“Are you kidding me?”
My shoulders deflate. “No.”
“You’re asking if I’d be game to get extra coaching from the head coach’s daughter?” He chuckles. “Fuck yeah, I would. It’s a no-brainer. Sign me up.”
I glance at Luca to find his dark gaze practically burning holes into me. “That’s awesome, Jeremy. To be clear, however, Coach Martinez hasn’t picked a player yet, but I’ll definitely let him know you’d say yes if asked.”
“No, I’d say ‘Hell yes.’ Why would anyone say no?”
I glance at Luca again to emphasize the point, and he flashes me a heated smolder that sends shivers of lust racing through me. Returning to Jeremy, I say, “Apparently, some guys aren’t willing to take a leap of faith to work with someone like me.”
Jeremy scoffs. “What leap of faith? You’ve got two linebackers for brothers who are both killing it, a legendary coach for a father, and Coach Martinez thinks highly enough of you to put you on his coaching staff. What more do I need to know?”
I thank Calhoun and say my goodbyes to him, quickly grab my laptop off the table while flashing a snarky look at Luca, and then march toward the exit of the cafeteria with my head held high.
“Chelsea, wait.”
I turn around to face Luca, doing my damnedest to keep the smug smile threatening to slip out at bay. “What’s up, Luca?”
“You’ve made your point, Mata Hari.” He crosses his muscled arms over his broad chest. “Fine. I’ll give you one shot to show me what you can do.
Not on paper. Not in a fucking spreadsheet.
On the field. Meet me on the practice field at five thirty tomorrow morning, and don’t be late like you were in Bloomington. ”
I roll my eyes. He’s so predictable. He didn’t even want the cookie, but he couldn’t stand the idea of another player getting to eat it. I know full well that’s why Luca’s changed his mind, at least for now, and yet I can’t resist asking my next question anyway.
“What changed your mind, if you don’t mind me asking? You seemed awfully convinced I’m not qualified to coach you mere minutes ago.”
“You know exactly what changed my mind.”
I smirk. “I really don’t.”
“Yes, you do.”
My smirk broadens into a full-blown smile. “I have my suspicions. But either way, it’s only fair, Luca. I told you the truth about why I left your hotel room. You owe me this.”
Luca takes a step forward, maintaining eye contact as he closes the gap between our bodies.
“I realized if I had to watch a fuckboy like Jeremy Calhoun making moves on my mathlete while pretending to be your eager student …” He takes another step forward, and the small channel of air between us feels supercharged and crackling.
“Then the limit to my ‘hell to the fucking no’ … would not exist.”