Ever since you found out about Caleb’s werewolf DNA, you never passed up a chance to tease him about it. Sometimes he’d even play along—using his heightened senses to find your lost things, race you down streets, or sniff out the ripest fruit at the market. But today, you had something different in mind. You wanted to test him. His instincts.

It was a brutally hot summer day, the kind where heat shimmered off the pavement in visible waves. Honestly, it was too hot to be outside at all—but Caleb looked completely unbothered. Earlier, you'd spotted him playing football with a random group of guys, grinning like he didn’t even notice the weather. That alone told you he was in a good mood.

Just as he was about to catch a pass, you blew a dog whistle.

The ball slipped right through his hands, landing embarrassingly far from him. The group of guys groaned in unison, clearly disappointed.

Caleb's eyes locked onto you instantly. He knew.

He walked over, no real anger in his expression, just the exasperated look of someone used to your antics.

“Were you jealous, pipsqueak? If you wanted my attention, you could’ve just called me over,” he said, ruffling your hair with a crooked grin.

You smirked and suddenly held up a tennis ball right in front of his face, waving it slowly. His eyes tracked it instinctively before flicking back to yours, a mock frown settling on his lips.

“I’m not falling for that,” he said flatly.

But at the last second, you switched it up—tossing a Frisbee instead.

Without hesitation, Caleb bolted after it.

A moment later, he returned, Frisbee in his mouth, his ears drooped and his tail low in defeat.

“…You win this time.”