“Never what?” An ache rose in my chest and spread to my limbs. I needed to hear the rest of the sentence. “Talk to me, Malik.”
“I’ve never felt so much for anyone before.” He hugged me to his chest. “Fuck, Grey. I’m a little scared here.”
“Don’t be.” Could it be he felt the same as me? Had he fallen in love with me? “You have me, Malik. All of me.” I clung to him. We had to make it work. “Let’s get through this season and end it with this stupid date and then we’ll be free. Okay?” But would we? I’d still have to deal with my father and whatever new socialite he’d set me up with. But that was tomorrow’s problem.
“Free…” He choked out a chuckle. “I like that.”
We were wellinto the first quarter, and our thinking had proven correct—Mississippi was double-teaming Bailey, which left me with more than my fair share of runs. But I’d only gained maybe twenty yards. It was slow going, and the score showed it, with neither team having any points on the board. I had to play better, but Grady, the fucking defensive lineman covering me, was a fast fucker and was up in my grill with every play.
As I lined up along our forty-yard line on our third down, I peeked at the sideline.
Malik sat on the bench next to Coley, his hands fisted on his thighs.
James called to the team, and our center snapped the ball to him.
I sprinted out and to the right, the lineman on my heels. My gaze caught James’s as he pumped the ball, faking a pass at Bailey and then shooting the ball toward me.
As I jumped and caught it, the lineman grabbed my legs, pummeling me into the turf. “Fuck!” I had to keep the ball, damn it. I hugged the ball to my chest as I went down, and my shoulder hit first, knocking the wind out of me.
“You’re going nowhere, Moore.” The lineman growled as he pushed off me and stood.
As I struggled to find my breath, I did a mental check of my body. My legs were okay, but my shoulder fucking hurt. I rolled onto my back and stared at the bright lights against the setting sun.
“Moore, are you okay?” Malik’s voice cut through the air.
Then Randy’s face came into view. “Moore, are you good or are you hurt?” He grabbed the football from me and tossed it to the ref.
I sat up and moved my shoulder in a circle, a sharp pain prickling through me. “I think I’m okay. But my shoulder?—”
“Don’t move it. Let me look.” Randy held my arm and brought it forward. “How’s this?” He slowly moved it to the side. “It doesn’t seem dislocated.”
“Yeah, I think it’s okay.” The pain subsided. “I must have pinched a nerve or something.” My gaze swept to the sideline, where Malik stood at the very edge, his hands planted on his hips and his forehead wrinkling. “Don’t take me out of the game. It’s okay. Just a stinger or something.”
“Okay, well they’re punting now anyway, so you can recuperate before you go out again.” He stood and stretched a hand to me. “Come on.”
I took his hand, and he pulled me up. The crowd cheered as I walked off the field with Randy.
“Grey, are you all right? What happened?” Malik hooked an arm around my waist and guided me to the bench. “Can I get you something? Ice pack? Gatorade?”
After pulling off my helmet, I said, “I’m fine. Just a stinger.” I plopped onto the bench, watching the ball fly over the field after the punt. “Maybe a Gatorade.”
“Sure.” Malik departed briefly, then reappeared holding a filled cup. “Here.”
I took the cup from him and sipped. “Fucking hell, man, that linebacker is all over my ass.”
“Yeah, Grady’s got your number, and he’s fast. You need to outmaneuver him.” Malik dropped in beside me.
Coach Barlow stepped in front of me, eyeing me up and down. “You good, Moore?”
“I am.” I gulped the drink down. “I’ll do better next time out.” Was I letting him down? Hell, I was letting myself down.
Patting my shoulder, Coach glanced at Malik. “Thompson, tell him how to get away from Grady, will ya?” He smirked.
“Of course.” With a soft snort, Malik said, “Look, he’s too big for the fast stops and starts, but you’re not. Fake the guy out. Make him think you’re turning left and then turn right. You can do this. We worked on it in camp, remember?”
“I do.” He was right. I was so busy worrying about yards, I wasn’t focusing on my footwork. “Anything else?”
“Just…have faith in yourself. I’ve seen what you can do. Grab the fucking ball and run your amazing ass off.” He leaned in, his gaze falling on my lips. “I’d fucking kiss you if there weren’t thousands of people around.” He lifted the corner of his mouth.