Page 128 of His Hungry Wolf

“Thank you, Professor,” I said gratefully.

The 20 minutes were barely enough. I did get it done, though, and it was thanks to Cage. The guy was doing something to me that I wasn’t going to be able to come back from. I could barely wait for our flag football date to roll around so I could see him again. He was all I could think of until I did.

When I saw him park his truck and approach me at the entrance of the park, I couldn’t help but smile. He was smiling too. God, did I love the way he smiled. It almost made up for the stress I felt about what was going to happen next. Not only was I going to be stampeded by a bunch of jocks, the odds of someone recognizing me was through the roof.

“You ready for this?” Cage asked looking confident and gorgeous.

“No.”

“Nervous?”

“Petrified might be more accurate.”

“There’s nothing to worry about. Be yourself. If you say something that feels awkward just push through it. Remember the world isn’t going to end, and no one here will be any less awkward than you.”

“I highly doubt that. And your teammates are going to demolish me. I don’t know if you know this but I’m not a big guy.”

“Everything’s relative,” Cage said with a smile.

“What do you mean?”

“Cage!” A voice said grabbing my attention. I turned and looked. It was a kid who said it. He was about ten years old and he was one of 15 kids the same age.

“You guys ready to play some football?” Cage yelled enthusiastically.

“Yeeeaaahhh!” They shouted back.

“We’re playing with kids?” I asked him confused.

“I organize this event with the kids in the local peewee league. When neither of us has games, I spend some time with them sharpening their skills. Iron sharpens iron,” he said with a smile.

“So, I’m supposed to practice being social with kids?” I asked confused.

“I didn’t start too difficult for you, did I?”

I laughed. “No, I think I can handle this.”

“There’s the confidence I was hoping for,” he said before jogging over to the group.

Cage was a natural with kids. He treated them like adults without forgetting their age.

“Whose team is the big guy on?” One of the kids asked referring to me.

“I don’t know,” Cage replied and looked at me. “Tell me, Quin, what team do you play for?”

“Do you mean, which team am I playing on?” I corrected unsure if he was asking what I thought he was.

“Isn’t that what I asked?” Cage said with a knowing look on his face.

“No,” a kid corrected. “You said, what team do you play for.”

“Oh. My bad. Quin, which team are you going to play on?”

“Which team usually wins?” I asked.

Cage looked at the kids who were split up into red and blue shirts.

“Usually the red team.”