“It’s a good start,” Jamie said for positive reinforcement. “What are you doing now? I thought we’d train.”
Frowning, Didier crossed his arms over his chest. “Not football, but if you want to do yoga, I’m in."
He studied Didier. “What is going on with you and football? I thought I was the one who was having the moral dilemma about signing on for another three years.”
“You have an extension?” Erik asked enthusiastically. “Congratulations. Is it a good offer?”
“Really good.” Then he added, “I haven’t decided if I want to take it.”
The kid nodded, his gaze going inward like he was working that out in his head.
“I don’t know that I feel the need to play until my body gives out,” he explained.
“Ah.” Erik nodded again, this time in comprehension. “That makes sense. Plus, you have other things that you’re good at, so you have options.”
“What things?” he asked, perplexed. The kid didn’t know about his photography, and in any case he wasn’t interested in doing that professionally.
Erik didn’t need to think about it. “You’re good at helping people. Everyone says so. And look at what you’re doing for me.”
“Il a raison,” Didier said.
It blew his mind that Erik didn’t think he was mad for considering retiring from football. The idea of helping people caused something in his soul to yearn. But he didn’t have a license to help people, and he had no desire to go to school for psychiatry or the like. He thought that world was shite.
It was a nice thought though. Smiling at Erik, he said, “Here’s how I’m going to help you. We’re going to practice you talking to girls.”
Erik made a face. “I’d rather do yoga.”
“We’ll do yoga after you practice talking to girls.” Jamie patted his back. “I have the perfect girl for you.”
“Who?” Erik said with interest.
“Didier.”
Didier frowned at them. “Why aren’t you the girl?”
“Because you’re prettier than I am.”
“Ah.” Didier shrugged in his French way. “Ça c’est vrai.”
They ended up in the living room. They moved the furniture around for more space and a clear floor so Erik could move around.
Didier sat, rather demurely, on the couch, drinking coffee as Erik paced in front of him.
Jamie perched on the arm of the couch, watching. “Try again, Erik.”
Taking a deep breath, Erik stopped and faced Didier like he would a blocker come to steal the ball from him. “Do you want a drink?”
Didier looked at him down his nose. “Non.”
Erik frowned, hands on his hips. “Dinner?”
“Non.” Didier turned to look away, his nose twitching as if Erik smelled offensive.
“A necklace?”
Didier pursed his lips as though he was thinking about it. “D’accord, I’ll take a necklace.”
Jamie shook his head. “Erik, the point of coming to Chicago is to find a girl who isn’t going to use you for your money. Offering a necklace, or anything like that, is counterintuitive to reaching your goal.”