Hail Mary: An Enemies-to-Lovers Roommate Sports Romance(20)

I zipped my lips closed, settling into my chair even more when I realized I wasn’t getting out of this lashing. Coach Lee was as severe as he was untouchable as a head football coach. He’d come in guns blazing as our new coach last season, a legend out of Alabama with a reputation that far preceded him. My father was ecstatic when he heard the news, because in his eyes, anyone who played or coached in Alabama was in a league above the rest.

Coach Lee came in, and in one season had taken us all the way to the championship game.

We brought the trophy home, and I knew a lot of it was thanks to him.

But he was also a little too condescending for my taste, and no matter how many times I’d hung out with him outside of practice, whether it be at The Pit or at some family event with Holden and Coach Lee’s daughter, it seemed his opinion of me never changed.

Then again, I guess I wasn’t helping matters by playing into the role I’d created.

“Leo,” Giana said softly, calling my attention to her. “You’re an amazing player, and you know how to charm the wings off a bird. Whenever I call on you for press, I know you’re going to hit it out of the park.”

“And I know when I call on you for a run, you’re going to get the first down or wreak havoc trying,” Coach added. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk and folding his hands together. “But here’s the thing — it doesn’t matter how well you do on the field. If the GMs think you’re a liability, they won’t think twice about skimming right past your name when it comes time for the draft.”

I snorted. “And getting laid makes me a liability?”

“Your attitude makes you a liability,” Coach snapped, his tone one that demanded I remember my place. “The way you strut into practice late, spend your time on the sidelines at every game making eyes at girls in the stands, and all your extracurricular activities that get more attention than you think.”

I stayed silent, resisting the urge to point out how I volunteered with Pee Wee football every summer, how I mentored high school kids in the fall, how I got straight fucking As in all my classes in a major that was twice as hard as the bullshit ones most of my teammates declared. The truth was none of that mattered, because to the media, it was boring.

They’d rather play my same cocky remark during a post-game interview over and over on the highlight reels as they debate whether I have a shot going pro or not.

But that was the thing — I knew what they wanted, what got their attention and put me on their programs. It was fine to be a great running back, but we had a nation full of those. There were also plenty of kids volunteering and acing their classes.

If I wanted to stand out, I had to give them a reason to remember my name.

And if there was one thing I was good at besides football, it was causing a scene.

The way Coach and Giana were looking at me now, though, I guessed I’d taken it a little too far. It was one thing to have general managers know your name. It was another entirely to have your name at the top of their mind when they thought about players they didn’t want to draft.

“Maybe just… tighten up a little this season,” Giana recommended. “Focus on football and not so much on the girls. I can set up a couple volunteer opportunities, and we can get a one-on-one interview for you before the opening game.”

“No.”

My response surprised them both. “No?” Coach repeated with a warning edge to his tone.

“I hate that shit. They just want to probe into your family or personal life, get some sob story out of you so they can plaster it all over the news. Look at how they treated Holden last season when he was inching toward the draft. You couldn’t turn on SportsCenter without seeing pictures of his dead family flashing on the screen.”

“And look where he is now,” Coach said without hesitation.

I sighed, sinking even farther into my chair.

“It doesn’t have to be super personal,” Giana offered softly. “Just… open up a little. Show them you’re more than the cocky running back they think you are.”

I wanted to roll my eyes so badly, but I refrained. “Fine.”

Coach and Giana shared a look before he dismissed us both with a nod. Giana stood, and I bolted out of the office first with her on my heels.

“Hey,” she said, catching the crook of my arm. “I’m sorry about that back there. I wanted to handle it with you myself, but…”

“I know.”

She nodded. “It’s just… I think he sees a lot of potential in you, Leo. He knows you can be great — you already are.”

I sighed, but knew she was right. Coach Lee didn’t know how to show his love to his players only to come down hard on us. I’d seen that firsthand with Holden last season, and with any other player he thought had a chance. He was much harder on me, Clay, Kyle, Zeke, and Riley than any other seniors. He thought we had potential.

Still, it thoroughly pissed me off that he couldn’t see past the superficial bullshit and realize I was already doing all the things he wanted me to. I was a part of our community — not because they asked, but because I wanted to be. I was doing well in school. I was performing on the field.

So what if I was confident in my interviews? They loved that shit. That’s why my clips got more airtime than anyone else’s. And who said this kind of publicity was bad? Isn’t all publicity good, in a way?