Bellamy twists his mouth like he’s choosing his next words carefully.
“Whatever it is, just tell me,” I blurt. “No need to sugarcoat it.”
Bellamy clears his throat. “I don’t know what he told you this morning, but I was in the security room this afternoon, following up on some routine stuff with the security team. On the bank of screens, we noticed all the coaches leaving their classrooms for some reason, which got our attention. And when the players in your room started chatting, rather than sitting quietly and studying their notes like they were doing in the other rooms, we turned up the sound on your screen to see what they were talking about.”
I suddenly feel an intense sense of dread. “Did Luca saysomething about me to the other linebackers—something about not respecting my coaching abilities?”
Bellamy nods slowly. “I’m sorry, Chelsea. I didn’t think this news would be a surprise to you. I thought for sure Luca would have said the same things to your face as he’d said behind your back.”
I swallow hard, forcing down the bile rising in my throat. “What exactly did Luca say about my coaching abilities?”
Bellamy looks deeply uncomfortable. “He said from what he’s seen, you don’t have what it takes to make your big dreams come true. He did say he’s rooting for you, though, because, hey, everyone needs a dream. But in your case, it’s a ‘pie-in-the-sky pipe dream.’”
I gasp. “He said that?”
Bellamy nods. “He said you’re not qualified to be anything but his glorified babysitter and that the rest of the squad should ‘pity’ him for getting stuck with you, basically, as his punishment for his stunt on the uprights.”
He elaborates briefly, and with each word spoken, I feel more and more enraged.
“I’m sorry, Chelsea,” Bellamy says. “I thought for sure Luca would have told you these opinions to your face.”
“He did. But at our one-on-one this morning, he totally changed his tune.”
“Huh.”
The conversation has been soul-crushing for me. So much so, every ounce of lust, swoon, and genuine affection I felt for Luca mere minutes ago during his singing performance is now gone, replaced by nothing but deep-seated humiliation, stomach-churning embarrassment, and murderous, white-hot rage.
CHAPTER 14
Chelsea
AFTERBELLAMY LEAVESthe auditorium to head to the cafeteria for dinner, I stand frozen in place for a moment, trying not to scream, sob, or throw up. Maybe all three at once. And when I’ve finally got a hold of my emotions enough to speak coherently, I shove my face into the hallway and bark out, “Get your ass in here, Ninety-Five!”
Luca’s dark eyes saucer at my unexpectedly furious tone, but I don’t pause for a reply or even to hold the door open for him. Instead, feeling like my head’s on the brink of physically exploding from fury, I let the heavy door slam behind me, march several angry paces into the now-empty auditorium, cross my arms tightly over my heaving chest, and tap my toe furiously while awaiting the entry of my prey.
As Luca steps into the room, he looks wary. “W-what happened with Bellamy?”
“Do you have something to tell me?”
He furrows his brow. “I … don’t think so.”
I get the feeling Luca’s answered this same question that exact same way more than once in his lifetime. In fact, he currently looks very much like a teenager who’s rapidly cataloging his many recent rule infractions while trying to figure out which one has done him in.
“A few hours ago, you told every single linebacker I’m nothing but a ‘glorified babysitter’ who’s ‘chasing a pie-in-the-sky pipe dream’?” I shriek. “You said I’m ‘in over my head,’ and a ‘nepo baby’ who doesn’t actually ‘know shit’ about coaching!”
Luca’s face falls. He opens his mouth to defend himself but winds up puffing out his cheeks instead.
My tear ducts suddenly feel activated, like they’re burning to release their watery load, but I force my emotions down and grit out, “I thought I’d earned at least some basic respect from you during our one-one-one this morning. But I guess not.”
“No, you did, Chelsea.”
“I know you’re not ready to go all-in with me as your personal coach. I know you still have your doubts. But I stupidly, naïvely thought you’d at least come to view me as more than a glorified babysitter!”
“Chelsea, please listen to me.”
“To my face this morning, you said, and I quote, ‘That was a damned good session.’ But then, mere hours later, you talked the worst kind of shit about me to every fucking player whose respect means the most to me!”
“Chelsea, please, let me explain.”
