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“Funny. Nothing. Why?”Was he about to ask me out?

“Meet me at the elementary school at seven?”

“For training?” I shouldn’t have been disappointed. I needed to train.

“Yes.”

“On a Thursday night?”

“Yes.”

I nodded, and his smile grew.

“Good. I’ll see you there.” He pointedly put his earbud back in while staring at me.

I laughed, and he climbed in his car. I turned and walked to mine. It was then I realized that Iwantedto trust Theo. He was making it easy.

I HEADED TOWARD THE FIELDbehind the elementary school slowly, a mass of kids occupying the space. My soccer cleats dangled over my shoulder by their laces. I looked at my phone again.

Meet me on the soccer field,the text from Theo read.

Did he not realize there would be some sort of game going on? His car had been in the parking lot, but I didn’t see him.

The school sat on a hill, and from here I could see the ocean and giant Morro Rock in the distance. The wind kicked up, sweeping hair across my face. I pulled it back into a ponytail and secured it with the holder I’d brought. Next to the school was a park and an older couple was playing pickleball on the courts. The sounds of the ball hitting the racket and the kids screaming mingled in the air.

As I got closer to the field, I could see long strips of colorful material dangling off white belts strapped around the waist of each child. A couple footballs were being tossed as well. My eyes scanned the bleachers, where a few parents sat watching.

“Finley!” Theo was waving at me from the middle of the field.

I finished the walk to him. “Hi,” I said. “What are you doing?”

“I help coach flag football on Thursdays.”

“Oh.”

“Coach T, my shoe’s untied,” a little boy said, stopping in front of him and lifting his foot.

“It sure is.” Theo took a knee and tied the boy’s shoe; then he ran off with his friends.

When Theo stood, a slight wince colored his expression. I found myself wincing right along with him. I relaxed my expression before he noticed.

“Everyone, gather round!” he called, and as he did he pulled something out of his pocket. It wasn’t until he was slinging it around my waist that I realized it was one of the belts that all the kids were wearing. “Finley has never played flag football before!”

What? How? Oh no!were some of the words I was able to decipher through the collective shout of the kids around us.

“You think we can teach her?” he asked.

“Yes!” they all screamed at once.

He tugged on both ends of the belt, which forced me closer to him. Then he was threading one end into the metal buckle piece of the other end. He was bent over for the task, his hair brushing my cheek in the process. “I know what you’re thinking,” he said quietly.“Someone will suspect.But if this somehow gets out, you can say volunteering looks good on résumés. You’re here for volunteerwork.”

I hadn’t been thinking much of anything with his hands brushing against my waist and his hair tickling my cheek, but it was obvious he had thought it through. “Are you going to play too?” I asked, noticing he wasn’t wearing a belt.

“Yes, Coach, play!” one of the girls said.

“I’ll play,” he said, freeing another belt from his pocket.

“Yay!” The cheer was loud.