Page 35 of Soft
But I’d promised he could set the pace. That meant not unloading all of that over gumbo on the first day we had more than a few stolen moments at a party.
So instead I just said, "Tell me about Bellport. The real version, not just what I’ve been able to read about and watch online. I want to know what it's actually like to live here."
He settled at my request. The change in him was instant. He lit up as spoke about the city he called home.
I leaned back in the booth and listened, only stopping him when I wanted to know about something specific. When the gumbo came, I found it was as good as advertised. We talked a bit more between bites, though most of our attention turned to the food.
Good company. Good food.
What more could a person ask for?
CHAPTER 12
Grizzly
Paxton held the door open for me when we left the diner. It was a small thing. I knew that.
And yet I still had to physically redirect my attention to the sidewalk ahead of us rather than standing there making too much of it. My cheeks burned with how much the move affected me.
The warm afternoon air settled over us as we walked back. Bellport in the spring had a way of starting cool and then remembering where it was by midday.
I had my jacket folded over my arm, which was probably the more sensible option than wearing it. I’d grabbed it on the way out of the office more out of habit than need.
Paxton walked beside me with his hands in his pockets, his steps unhurried as if he was letting me set the pace. He had the ability to just be somewhere without drawing attention to himself. He didn't talk for the sake of talking, and he didn't let silence loomlike a dark cloud. He just existed in it comfortably, which was rare in my experience.
After the first block he said, "Can I ask you something?"
"You can."
"How did you end up being an agent? You obviously know sports well enough. Did you ever want to play?"
It was a question I'd been asked before, though usually in a way that carried some implication of failure underneath it. Like the assumption was that I had wanted to play and hadn't made it, and the agenting was a consolation.
Paxton’s question sounded more like curiosity. He was making conversation, but he was also interested to know the truth.
"When I was younger, I had no real interest in playing. Myparentswanted me to. They’d force me to join teams, then would tear me down when I didn’t perform at an elite level. I found a love for the various sports they made me try. Just not the way they’d hoped. Seeing the guys I played with work so hard to make it pro made me want to help them.”
He laughed. "And so you became an agent instead?"
"I realized pretty quickly that I wasn't built for that kind of competition. Not because I couldn't play, but because—" I paused, wondering if maybe I was being too truthful. "I don't love conflict. The aggressive side of competitive sports, the noise and the ego of it, never appealed to me the way it does to some people. I could do it. I was just never going to love doing it."
He was quiet for a moment. "So what did appeal to you?"
"The quieter parts of it. The work that happened off the field. The relationships and the negotiations and figuring out what someone needed to get to where they wanted to go. That felt more like me."
"Softandstrategic." His voice accentuated the words in a complimentary way.
I glanced at him. He was looking ahead at the street, like he was lost in his own head.
"Something like that," I agreed.
"There's nothing wrong with that, you know. Most people act like you have to be aggressive to be successful. Like caring about the gentle side of it is somehow less. That's not true."
I thought about how to respond to that. I thought about the conversations I’d gotten used to having over the years when people learned what I did and what I was built like. They pictured me differently every single time. The raised eyebrows. The comments that were meant to be jokes but weren’t funny to me at all.
Shrugging, I said, "It's not always a popular perspective.”
"Popular is overrated." He glanced over at me briefly. "I prefer genuine."
