steam as I ran to the field where the ALAs played flag football. There was no practice today since it was Monday, but Sean had texted and said he wanted to meet me there instead of at the gym. Sure enough, he was standing at the edge of the field dressed in sweats and a puffer coat, his arms wrapped around himself against the cold. And he was frowning. Oops.
As I jogged up, I said, “Don’t you want to go to a nice warm gym?”
His frown deepened. “No. All day Saturday you coddled and babied me, and I felt utterly superfluous. This just isn’t going to work if you treat me like I’m made of glass. If you don’t believe that I can learn the game and play well, then you shouldn’t be coaching me.”
Whoa. I thought back to Saturday’s game. He wasn’t wrong. “Sorry. I was just trying to make sure you didn’t get hurt. Or, um, be put in a bad position again. Because of me.”
“Getting hurt sometimes is part of it, right? No one can succeed without making mistakes. But assuming I’m going to fail will be a self-fulfilling prophecy.”
I had to hand it to him. He was a feisty one. “So what would you like to do?”
He waved his arms wildly. “Don’t ask me, tell me. Teach me how to play flag football.”
I grinned. “Well, okay then.”
On the side of the field was a shed where the ALAs kept hay bales and traffic cones for setting up practice courses. I put out a bunch of cones in a zigzag pattern. “Run through the cones as fast as you can.”
He gave me side-eye. “I’ve seen this technique used in dog shows.”
“Ha! Just do it.”
He ran the length of the cones like a little hedgehog, chugging and puffing, until he reached the last cone. His foot slipped out from under him on the frosty grass, and splat, he was on his ass. I fought both my instinct to laugh and to run to his rescue. “Start again.”
For a second, he looked pissed, but then he scrambled to his feet and started over.
I had him run it three more times, and he got better, moving in and out of the cones a little faster and smoother although he was gasping at the end of it. While he ran the cones, I collected a blue flag belt from the shed and strapped it on.
After I put away the cones, I walked over to where he stood, breathing hard. “One of the most important skills to develop is what to do with these babies.” I flicked a blue flag on my hip.
He crossed his arms and looked at me. “You want me to pull your flag?”
When he said it, it sounded a little dirty. Or maybe a lot. I bit the inside of my lip to keep from laughing since Sean seemed totally serious. “Uh yeah. I’m going to run and I want you to chase me and grab my flag, okay? Let’s try it one time with no instruction and see how you do.”
He leaned over and bent his arms in a pose that looked a hell of a lot like Wile E. Coyote, but I was still pretty sure he wasn’t joking. I took off at a modest trot, the flags whipping on each hip. I heard him pounding the ground behind me, and suddenly, a hand hit my back, and Oof! He was flat on the ground.
I stared at him lying facedown. “What happened?”
He turned his head and glared up at me. “I tried to grab your flag. I missed.”
“Rule number one. Never dive for the flag. No matter what, you’re going to wind up on the ground and put yourself out of play. Stay on your feet. Imagine that you’re running right through me. But don’t hit me, of course. That’s against the rules.”
I reached down and pulled him to his feet. Whoops! He was lighter than I guessed, and he just kept coming until I had two arms full of a cute hedgehog. “Uh sorry. Don’t know my own strength.”
“It is considerable.” He wriggled until he got back to his feet and then said, “Any other tips on pulling your flag?”
I cleared my throat. Strange how Sean’s wiggles had left me, uh, kind of stiff in my sweats. Note from me to me. Call one of the girls who likes me and set up a date.
“Nah. Let’s just keep trying.” Over the next half hour, I