He nods. “Probably.”
“Have you always been in shape?” I take a bite of my pizza to stop myself from saying anything else. What I’ve already said is bad enough. I might as well have just come right out and told him he has a great body.
“I’ve always played sports. That makes it easier to stay fit. But I didn’t actually start working out with weights and doing other kinds of training until I suffered a really bad injury and had to go through rehab. That kind of got me interested in the whole aspect of building up my body to make it a more efficient machine for what it needs to do.”
I chew slowly, trying to figure out if I’ve noticed any signs of a former injury in anything that he’s done. I haven’t seen a limp or any stiffness in his movements that I can recall. “How long ago was your injury?”
“It happened when I was eighteen. Motorcycle accident.”
I take another bite of my pizza and a sip of soda, hoping he’ll elaborate and not force me to start another interrogation.
“Ever since the accident, I’ve focused on keeping myself strong, so if I’m ever in a bad situation again, I can handle myself and have a shorter recovery.”
“I guess that comes in handy in your line of work.”
“For me, it doesn’t matter so much. But for the others, sure. It helps a lot.”
“What do you mean, it doesn’t really matter for you? Why are you different from anyone else?”
He doesn’t look very happy with his answer. “Well, first of all, I’m not really good for use out in the field, and second of all, I have other things going on that make it difficult for me to participate like everyone else does.”
“Is it because of your injury? Is that why you can’t participate?”
He shakes his head as he reaches into a pizza box, separating crusts so that he can grab another piece. This time he pulls out two pieces and flips one on top of the other, making a pizza sandwich. He takes a large bite and chews it for a while before answering.
“No, actually, that has nothing to do with it. My height is the problem. Once people get a bead on me, their eyes don’t pass over; they just stare. And then they don’t forget me after. Even if they never talk to me or find out what my name is, they always remember that guy who they were absolutely sure must be some sort of famous basketball player who they saw at the store or the mall or the gas station or whatever. I just can’t move through life without being noticed, and that’s not a real asset when it comes to security work.”
“I would think that would be a real asset with security work. It’s very intimidating. What could make a person feel more secure than having a big giant of a man standing there?”
He pauses. “Do I intimidate you?” He sounds sad about that.
I immediately feel bad. “No, no, no. That’s not what I meant. I mean, before I got to know you, you might have been a little bit intimidating, but now that I know you, you’re not intimidating at all.”
He smiles. “I’m pretty sure that was supposed to make me feel better.”
I lean over and shove his shoulder. “Stop. You’re making me feel bad. You know what I meant.”
He’s a good sport and tips over, making it look like my shove actually had an effect on him. He’s smiling. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say.”
My face is getting warm again. I could keep messing around with him and turn this into a serious flirting session, but I don’t want to make him uncomfortable. I know he’s just being a nice guy like he is with everyone. My sister May really likes him, and now I can see why. He’s more than just a little bit adorable.
I search for a way to get back on track and away from this schoolgirl silliness that wants to overtake me. “You said that there were two reasons why you couldn’t really participate. What’s the second reason?”
He chews his food, his eyes roaming around the table, the room, and then over the boxes. He takes a moment to poke pepperonis falling from his pizza sandwich back inside. “I have responsibilities at home that are a little more involved than the other guys on the team.”
“Do any of them have kids?”
He shakes his head. “None of them are married either.”
“But you’re not married, right?” My heart squeezes in my chest a little as I wait for his answer. I don’t see a wedding ring on his finger, and he told me that his son’s mother left right after he was born, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he isn’t with someone. I guess I just assumed he wasn’t. I hope I’m not wrong about that. Not that this is a date.