“Out of how many?”
“I don’t know it could have been four out of thirty. That’s progress for me.” His voice is dry and taut like he’s not proud that he’s on the path to success again.
“It is.” I flip my notebook open and start jotting down information. “Did you use the cue?”
“Trust.” His eyes drop to my lips as I repeat the word.
Please stop looking at my mouth.
“Before every rep?”
“Most of them.”
“Not all?”
He shakes his head no but doesn’t offer a reason as to why he didn’t do it every single time.
I nod. “What happened when you didn’t use it?”
He shoots me a slight eye roll. “You know what happened.”
“Did you drop the ball when you did use the cue word?”
“Once.”
“Why is that?”
“I started anticipating the miss. Tightened up.”
“Before the ball reached you?”
“Yeah.” He’s quiet for a second, like he hates admitting it. “The noise in my head dropped.”
I write that down.
He watches me. He’s very observant and perceptive. “You write everything down.”
“Patterns matter.” Underlining the word in my notebook, I continue, “While doing the drills, was there defense on you?”
“No.”
“What happens when the defense is playing? Do you drop the football more times or less?”
“That’s tomorrow’s practice. Tuesdays are spent watching film from the mistakes last game, weight room, drills, meetings with offensive coaches individually and then my charitable foundation work.” He clears his throat. “That’s why I was late.”
My eyebrows dip, questioning.
“I took eighty kids to an indoor football game. They wanted pizza after, so we went to DeRosas where you used to be a waitress.”
Handsome doesn’t cover it. He takes time out of his week to spend it with children. I don’t even know how to respond.
“So you spend your off-hours with kids?”
He rubs his thighs and says, “Yeah. Adults too, they volunteer since most have been abused or neglected in some way and the adults offer first hand experience. I just want to help people who didn’t grow up in an environment like mine.”
“Loved?” I ask.
A hush falls over us as he nods.