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A blast of cold air causes me to pull my beanie over my ears. I fiddle with my scarf and almost miss the tiny storefront.
There are a couple people at the counter when I walk in, but only one person at the circular tables. He has his back toward the door, a ball cap covering his hair, and a puffy jacket hiding his lithe frame, but I can still tell it’s Slater.
I slide into the chair against the wall.
He still has his sunglasses on, and his facial hair looks scruffier than normal.
It’s a good look.
“I already ordered,” he says. “Since you were?—”
“Five minutes early.” I make a point of looking at my watch.
He chuckles while I eye the enormous cup he pushes in my direction.
“What is it?” I ask.
He hesitates. “Mocha caramel. It’s really good, and you like coffee, so I thought it was a safe bet…but if you want something else they have lots of options. You can even customize.” He pulls the cup back toward him. “I shouldn’t have ordered for you. Why don’t you look at the menu and pick what you want? I can drink this one when I finish mine. I’m trying to bulk up anyway.”
He’s trying to bulk up? Like he needs more muscle. Seriously.
I reach out and grab the cup he got for me. “I’ve made you two meals without consulting your likes and dislikes, so I’m not particularly offended by you ordering me a coffee flavored smoothie.”
He smiles as I take a tentative sip.
Flavor explodes on my tongue. “Wow. It’s better than I was anticipating.”
“Right?” He nods. “It’s got some fruit for sweetness, but it’s mostly a bunch of healthy proteins. Nut milks and seeds and all sorts of stuff. It’s like a meal in a glass.”
“I’m not sure I need another meal right now,” I say jokingly as I take another sip. “I already ate breakfast and I’m not looking to bulk up.”
“Drink whatever you want, and I’ll finish it off.” He pauses. “Or we could go somewhere else, and you can get an actual coffee instead.”
“I’m good.” His worry about what I’m drinking is kind of sweet.
He sucks on his straw as I shift and glance around the shop. It’s cute—the walls, floors, and counters are all stark white, but the seating and signs are fluorescent colors that really pop. The other customers ignore us as they grab their drinks from the counter and head back into the cold.
“I’m surprised you wanted to come here in person,” I say, in part to break the silence and in part because I’m curious.
“I figured I could be anonymous here. You won’t draw attention to us.”
The statement is so straightforward that it takes me a moment to recognize that he means it as a compliment. “I’m happy to meet you here anytime.”
He nods and looks at me expectantly. I get the sense that he wants to chat, which, admittedly, is all we’ve ever done together. He must be starved for conversation if he wants me to initiate another interrogation of his personal life.
My research suggests that success in football is a mixture of talent, confidence, and luck. No one questions Slater’s talent—it’s undeniable. Luck has been both out of his control and relatively kind to him—he’s had coaches who are well respected, zero significant injuries, and, for the most part, competent teammates. That leaves confidence, which he claims to have, but…how do you judge that? By effort? Or results?
“I read somewhere that confidence is more important than talent,” I offer.
He smiles and shakes his head at the same time. “Confidence is vital, but I’m not sure I’d say it’s more important.”
I shrug, warming up to the debate. “If talent was more important, then the better team would always win, right?”
He leans back in his chair. “I see what you’re doing.” He doesn’t look annoyed, just amused. “You’re saying I lack confidence.” I feign innocence, but he just chuckles and continues, “I’m a product of overconfidence more than anything else. Even after a truly horrific game, I have no doubt in my abilities. That’s part of the problem. I know I’m an exceptional football player.”
I feel a jolt of jealousy. It’s hard to imagine being good enough at something to have no doubts.
Although, if he has no doubts, why does he keep failing? “Maybe football isn’t the place your confidence is lacking?”
