It was hard to take my eyes off her. I was so impressed by everything she did, even down to her shoe game and clothes.
I never thought about what the perfect girl looked like for me. I didn't care before. I didn't even want love. Nor, did I even believe in it. I've heard horror stories from teammates I've played with. Women wanted one thing, money. Even pop kids out from multiple stars for even more money. Shady things. I just never consider meeting a one who didn't want money because she had more than I did.
Every box of things I would have to have if I ever did look for love, Camila was checking each one of them off easily. Without even knowing it. I got myself into something so deep without realizing, I worried if she'd change her mind about me, I'd be ruined. The end of my sanity.
Speaking of the devil, Camila's hypnotizing hips swayed side to side as she walked over to me looking flustered and stressed. She had be in a corner with Willow writing lyrics together.
I reached out for her so I could pull her in to my lap. Once she tucked her face into my neck and took a breath she sighed out in frustration.
"I should've picked basketball instead of singing" she jokes as my head falls back in a deep chuckle picturing Camila's small frame trying to play against tall girls.
"Don't laugh at me" she giggles while pouting cutely
"Too short shawty!" I tease as she bites her lips at the name I used
"We should steal a ufo then." She mumbles as she traces the alien tattoo on my hand
"So we can get out of here?"
"Yeah-" she mumbles putting her hair in a bun and moving to sit besides me. She grabbed the shades off my eyes and put them on before looking over to the producer barking her name repeatedly.
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"Time to work" she sighs looking back at me as if she didn't want to go. She stood up and blew me a kiss goodbye as I was still trying to process the mental picture I took of her. If ever I did think of a woman in my life, I pictured a thick black queen, yet my neck was turned for a fire Hispanic queen. Not big and thick, but small with a ass that wasn't. It was something about the way she looked at me and sounded when she sang, I've never wanted anything more than her to sing in my ear while I'm inside her. Stretching her to fit my dick just right. You know?
"You got this" I encouraged her as she walked away. Me staring at her ass got cut too short because my phone began to ring. It was the coach, I couldn't ignore it.
As I stepped outside to answer I wished Camila had handed me the shades back. Paparazzi's cameras kept blinding my eyes as they all bombarded me with questions.
"Yes coach?" I yell over the chaos
"Are you parting son?" He questions angrily
"No sir. I'm with-" and my mind went black. What do I say? My girlfriend? My friend? I can't lie now and say I'm practicing with all this yelling. Fuck.
