He chuckled as he jogged a few feet down the field.
“Is this too far?” he asked sarcastically.
“No, nigga. Go farther.”
This time, he went a lot further down the field. He thought I couldn’t throw that far, but I had news for him.
“Are you ready?” I yelled.
He waved his arms and prepared to catch the ball. I slapped the football before sidestepping and throwing it in his direction. He’d moved closer, probably assuming my throw would be short, but had to quickly change directions and just barely caught the ball.
I was ready for him as he ran toward me and the end zone. When he got close to me, I charged in his direction. He tried to get fancy but didn’t realize how quick I was until I moved right along with him. He thought he’d gotten away, but I grabbed his shirt just as he almost slipped past me.
“Play over, buddy! Give it up!” I shouted.
When our running slowed, he let the football fall to the turf and grabbed my waist.
“I didn’t know you had skills-skills, baby. Who taught you to throw like that? I don’t remember you telling me you had a big brother,” he said, kissing my cheek.
“I don’t. You underestimated me, and now you’re losing. My turn.”
I spun out of his arms and ran down the field. Fifteen minutes later, I’d gotten past him into the end zone three more times, and he was only able to slip by me twice.
“I might have to talk to Kilo about getting you on staff. You ran around and through me like it was nothing.”
“I’m a natural, baby. I tried to tell you.”
I sipped from my oversized water bottle with one hand on my hip, sweat dripping from my body. I could feel Knox’s eyes on me, making me feel warm and fuzzy inside.
“You’re fine as fuck, you know that?” he asked before taking a swig of his water, keeping his eyes on me.
I struck a pose and smiled. “You like the sweaty mess you see before you?”
He put his water bottle in his bag and swung it over his shoulder before picking up my bag and doing the same. He grabbed me by the waist again and looked into my eyes as he responded.
“I more than like it.”
This wasn’t the first time he’d indirectly told me he loved me.
“More than like it? What does more than like mean?”
“There’s only one thing after like, but you ain’t ready for that conversation. Let’s go.”
He released my waist, taking one of my hands in his as we headed to the parking lot. I knew where he was going with his statement, but I didn’t press him, because he’d say those three words whenever he was ready.
“Camp starts in a couple of weeks, right?” I asked a few minutes later as he turned onto the road.
“Yeah, and I’m ready to get started. Most of the players we lost weren’t big playmakers, and we got several JUCO transfers, so they’re coming in with more experience than the average high school senior.”
“My dad says he’s never seen more exciting football and is looking forward to the season.”
“Tell him thanks. I’ll make sure he has season tickets.”
“I’m sure he’d love that.”
“It’s the least I can do for my future father-in-law.”
I was already looking at him when he quickly glanced at me, our eyes meeting briefly before his returned to the road. Wehadn’t talked about what our future held and had been going with the flow, enjoying each other’s company.