Page 18 of Personal Foul
Chapter Seven
Sydney
Once all the kids have been picked up, we take care of cleaning up and putting away the basketball equipment.We are lucky to have a few custodians offer to give us a hand, which makes short work of the task.
My eyes keep finding their way back to Colson, staring at the thick cords of his muscles every time his forearms flex. A few of my glances found him looking back at me. It’s hard not to reflect on how he was with the kids today. If I didn’t know him already, having learned about the career he’s made for himself in the league, I’d be confident in saying he missed his calling as a coach. The kids gravitated toward him, hanging on to his every word.
My mind replays how Colson was able to genuinely connect with the kids and the way Isaac’s eyes studied his every move when he ran through drills, working through their dribbling techniques, and helping them perfect their shooting. I’ve never seen a more well-behaved group of kids, and it had everything to do with who Colson was and how important he made each of them feel.
When it was time for everyone to leave, watching Isaac give Colson a hug, his arms wrapped around his waist thanking him, left me in tears. You could tell this meant more to him than many of the other kids. I know firsthand, having grown up in foster care, how differently your perspective can be shaped by someone you look up to showing you the attention you crave.
I don’t know if Colson understood the gravity of what he gave those kids today, and how special he made each of them feel. I’m so glad my father made the decision to have him join me. He’s going to make an amazing father one day.
The thought alone has me shaking my head, trying to rid myself of those mental images. I’ve only known him personally for such a short time. It was only a few days ago I was trying to convince both of us why it would be a terrible idea for us to pursue anything further. Now, I’m picturing what he would be like with his own children.
You’re crazy, Syd. Seriously, stop it.
“What’d you say?” Colson asks, palming the basketball in his hand.
I don’t even realize he’s talking to me until he calls me by my name, turning to stare blankly at him.
“Huh?”
“Are you talking to yourself?”
“What?” I pause, looking around the empty gym. We’re alone now, so I don’t have an easy out of this one.
“Oh, sorry. I was thinking out loud.”
“Do you normally call yourself crazy?”
Busted.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Well, whatever you were thinking about must not be so bad. You had a big smile on your face.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did. You were doing that thing where you bite your lip to try and hide it, but I know you well enough to know it wasn’t because you’re crazy or you didn’t like whatever you were thinking about.”
“You know, I don’t know if I should be flattered or creeped out how you’re seemingly one of few men who seem to pay attention to things like this.”
“Men pay attention if it’s someone they’re interested in.”
Heat blazes over my cheeks, and I know without even looking in a mirror, my pale skin isn’t helping conceal how much I liked hearing those words.
“You’re cute when you’re nervous.”
“You’re doing it again.”
He laughs, dribbling the ball as he turns to add it to the rest lining the rack. Holding onto the handle, he steers the cart toward the edge of the gym where we had found them when we arrived.
“I think we’re good to go.” I glance around the gym, doing a quick once-over to make sure we didn’t miss anything. Colson rubs his hands together before slipping them into the pockets of his shorts, waiting for me.
I try to avoid looking at him in the eye, so instead, I stare at his legs. The way his tan skin highlights the muscles flexing in his calves down to his white sneakers.
“All right, I think that’s it. We’ll have to lock up, and I’ll drop the key off at the front desk on our way, then we can head out.”
