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I turn and walk toward my car, uninterested in waiting for his response.
“Your relationship…” Coach runs to catch up to me and pins me against the car when he does. “What fucking relationship, Magik?”
Paris is going to be so pissed I opened my mouth. “We’ve been hanging out, getting to know each other. I told you, I’ve fallen for her. Hard.”
“She wouldn’t go behind my back and mess around with one of my players,” he counters, letting me go.
When I turn to face him, I remind him this isn’t about what he wants or will allow her to do. “Would you prefer her to date a guy only interested in getting in her pants? Because trust me, plenty are trying to.”
“You watch your tone, son. That’s my daughter you’re talking about.”
“Let me prove to you how much she means to me. Please.”
I’m not beyond begging.
Coach Weston takes a step back, defeat in his eyes, and lowers his head.
“Stay away from her until we finish this season. Can you do that?”
Yes, I want to tell him, but a few weeks is a lifetime now I’ve had a taste of her.
“You win me that Championship, Magik, and you have my blessing to date my daughter. But mark my words, if you fuck it up, whether you get drafted or not, will be the least of your worries.”
I contemplate what he’s offering as he watches me with narrow eyes. “What made you change your mind?”
He lets out a defeated sigh. “Paris threatened to move out. Said if I couldn’t treat her like an adult she would go and never look back. And she’s a hot-head when she wants to be, she’d do it just to spite me.”
Sounds exactly like Paris and it’s one of the things I love about her.
“You have to promise not to see her until we have that win on the board. For the sake of the game and your teammates. Split focus this close to the end of the season is asking for defeat. I find out you both are sneaking around behind my back between now and then, you’ll never have my blessing.”
Fuck.
CHAPTER 9
Magik
The weeks fly by, most of my time is spent on the field, smashing through the end zone, the Bucs scoring double digits in every game, and the rest of my waking hours on the phone to Paris. Either talking or texting.
It’s painful, but the end is near.
The end of this charade and the beginning of our life together.
The team is in prime position on the ladder, undefeated all season and I won’t let anyone take this championship from us.
Paris will be all mine at the end of the game. I can feel her smooth skin beneath my fingertips, her silky hair laying over my chest as we catch our breath after making love for the tenth time.
Taste her on my tongue.
It’s been too long. The longest weeks of my life.
“Okay, boys. Let’s bring home the championship today,” Nate starts with his pre-game pep talk as we finish getting into our gear. “If for no other reason but to stop Magik moping around like his left nut has been chopped off.”
Laughter fills the locker room.
“Seriously though, for Magik and Paris, let’s make this our best game of the season. If anyone deserves a good woman like Paris, it’s our king, Magik. But sappy romance aside, boys, we’re all walking out of this stadium as winners tonight, with a championship to our names. We fight to the very end and make damn sure the points are in our favor. Georgia ain’t got shit on us.”
“Fuck the Dawgs!”
