Page 152 of His Hungry Wolf

“Don’t you ruin this, Boy.”

“I told you, don’t call me that.”

“I’ll call you whatever I God damn want, Boy.”

“Okay, I’m done,” I told him seeing where the conversation was headed.

“Don’t you walk away from me,” he said after I exited to my room and shut the door behind me.

“Don’t you fuck this up. Don’t you go fuckin’ this up, Boy. This is the best thing that will ever happen to you. Don’t you give it all up for some piece of ass.”

He had heard me. He knew what I was hinting at with Quin and it was clear that he didn’t approve. But, it didn’t matter. I was falling in love with him and there was nothing my dad could do to change that.

If Quin let me, I was going to make him mine. To others, it might seem like a choice, but it wasn’t. I didn’t think I could stand to be away from him if I tried. He had me and nothing that happened was going to change that. Not my father. Not what some scout would say. Nothing.

‘Did you get the tickets?’ I texted Quin as I sat in the locker room waiting to go out for the game.

“Put your phone away, Rucker. Get your head in the game,” Coach said forcing me to return it to my bag before I got a reply from Quin.

Holding out as long as I could, I stared at the screen until the phone was out of sight. Still nothing. I had texted him yesterday and he had told me he and Lou would be here. I told him that I would make sure to win the game so that he enjoyed himself. He had just told me that he was looking forward to it, but nothing else.

I was expecting more from him. The truth was that I was having a hard time interacting with him since our class ended. Our class had been our excuse to spend time together. Without it, the only thing remaining was my intense feelings for him. But I didn’t feel right expressing how I felt as long as I was still in a relationship with Tasha.

Tasha, on the other hand, was nowhere to be seen. I had put tickets for her at ‘Will Call’ like I always did, but I hadn’t spoken to her in days. I would say our relationship was over except even when she disappeared like this, she would reappear and remind me of the dream we had had where I traveled the country playing for the NFL and she got involved with some charity.

I don’t know what it was about that dream that always got me to excuse the shittiness of our relationship, but it did. It had to stop, though. I wasn’t sure what I wanted my life to be, but I was feeling more confident that it wasn’t that.

How did I break that to her? How did I break that to my dad?

Taking the field, I looked around at the stands. The place was jammed packed. I knew where Quin’s seats were but there was no way to see them from here. Past the row closest to the field, the stadium became a blur of cheering, colorful dots. Usually, that was how I preferred it. Today, there was one person I wished I could pick out.

Was Quin here or not? Whatever the case, I was going to play like I was only playing for him. I wanted him to be proud of me. I wanted him to think that I was worthy of someone as great as him.

Our offensive team took the field to start the game. As quarterback, I surveyed the defensive line looking for all of the weaknesses Coach had been training us to spot. I didn’t see anything until my tight end shifted indicating that he thought he could make a hole for our running back.

We had run this play in dozens of games. The other team knew that. That meant that the opposition would be looking to adjust to it as soon as we committed to the play. So, if I called the play and waited for the defense to commit…

“Orange, 52, summer, hike,” I said telling my guys my plan.

As expected, our tight end opened a hole in their defensive line. As soon as he did, our running back charged from behind me looking for a hand-off. Wrapping his arms around nothing, he charged the line causing the defense to collapse on his position. The right safety moved into place to stop our running back if he got through. And the man who was defending our wide receiver favored his right to back up the charging safety.

That was when our wide receiver broke loose and sprinted down the field. This was it. He was open. I just had to stay on my feet long enough for him to reach the ten-yard line.

The grunts of 300-pound men echoed in my ears. They were coming. My heart pounded.

‘Stay calm. Wait for it,’ I told myself.

When our guys couldn’t hold back their line any longer, their linebacker cut through like a bullet through metal. He was going to get me. I had to throw. Whipping my arm back, I let go. The second the ball left my fingertips, a freight train hit me leaving me on the ground for dead.

Lying there, I heard the collective awe of the crowd. They were watching something. It was my pass. I had gotten it off in time. It was spiraling forty yards through the air. It took a while to get there. When it did, the screams of the crowd were deafening.

“Touch down!” The announcer yelled.

20,000 people shot to their feet. Celebration. Agony. The rush of it all was amazing. Dan ran over to me and helped me up.

“Fuck yeah!” He yelled slapping me on my back.

Jogging off the field watching everyone go wild, there was only one person who I hoped had seen it. I looked toward his section again. There were too many people and it was too far away. I didn’t see him. It broke my heart to think he might not have been there.