What did you do today?” Koen leaned his chin in one hand and looked at her, waiting for the answer.
“Me? Not much. The usual, you know, study, help Nana around the house.” Something about the nonchalant way he asked the question caused Sabrina to be uneasy, which was silly. “How about you?”
“Not much. The usual, you know, played some b-ball with the boys, avoided studying or doing anything around the apartment.” He played with her hand across the table. “So, is that all, then? You didn’t do anything else?”
Whatever uneasiness Sabrina had felt before went into an all-out alarm with the repetition of the question. She shrugged, focusing her attention on their interlocked hands rather than on his soul-piercing eyes. “Mostly.”
“Mostly.” He repeated the word quietly. “I see.”
“You see what?” This time she did look up at him.
“I heard a rumor you might have been spotted at the St. Patrick’s race this morning.”
“Who told you that?” Even as Sabrina asked the question, she already knew the answer. She’d seen several people from school there that she recognized. There was one who stood out from the rest, however—Lindy Stewart.
“Did I hear wrong?” He wasn’t being accusing or combative, but he was clearly on a mission to find out the truth. Sabrina supposed there wasn’t any reason to try to hide it.
“No, you didn’t hear wrong. I was there.”
“So what is the deal then with you and running? I saw you run after Gazelle Girl a few weeks ago, so I know you’re fast. You told me you don’t ever run, but then you go to a 5K. Do you run or don’t you?” Again, just making conversation. He had no idea how close he was getting to a truth she didn’t want to get into.
“I don’t.” She looked out the window of the pizzeria toward the street. “I just went to watch.”
“Because?”
Why couldn’t he just let this go? When she told him the truth, he would see that she wasn’t so independent and strong, and any advantage she had over the athletic Lindy Stewart would vanish. She’d lost enough from her disease. She wasn’t going to let it ruin any chance she had with Koen, too. She pulled her hand away from his. “Because I like to watch people run, okay? Is there something wrong with that?”
His head snapped back as if she’d struck him. “No. Wow, okay, so in my effort to learn more about you through casual conversation, I guess what I’ve learned is that you don’t like a lot of questions. I’ll be sure to put that one down for future reference. Maybe that’s the downside of your independent streak, hmm?” He never took the full force of his gaze away from her face.
“Look, I’m sorry. I . . .” Sabrina rubbed her forehead, trying to find the right words. “I used to run, a long time ago. I don’t anymore, and I don’t really like to talk about it.”
“O-kay.” He leaned back against the red plastic cushion of the Pizza Palace booth. “New subject.” He sat quietly, likely wondering if there were other subjects that might bring on a similar reaction and afraid to say anything, just in case.
Could this be any worse? It was the first time they’d spent an evening together in a while, and this was certainly not the way Sabrina wanted it to go. She frantically searched for something that might return some sense of normalcy to the evening. “How did you do on the psych quiz yesterday?” It wasn’t perfect, but it was all she could come up with.
“Okay, I think.”
“Haven’t you looked at your grade? She posted them last night.”
“Nah. There’s nothing I can think of that I’d rather do less on a Friday night than to check my grades online.”
Sabrina laughed, and then they fell into another awkward silence. The waitress refilled their sodas, asked if they needed anything else, then cleared the plates. Plastic plates clinked against metal forks, providing the only sound. In the booth behind them, a man let out a bellowing laugh, rocking back against his seat hard enough that Sabrina’s seat shook with the force.
“You ready to go?” Koen stood and offered his hand, which Sabrina took, hoping to restore something of their former magic.
When they got almost to his truck, she stopped and turned. “Listen, I was at the race this morning watching, like I said. I’m sort of coaching Brandy—Gazelle Girl, as you call her—and this was her first 5K. That’s why I was there. I . . . well, I’m sorry I was so snippy with my answer.”
“Coaching her?” The surprise in his voice was quickly squelched by the pained look on his face. “Oh, sorry. Forgot, I’m not supposed to ask questions about that. Do you want to drive over to Jared’s? He’s having a bunch of people over—he told me we should drop by.”
“I . . . uh . . . sure, I guess so.”
He opened the door and held it while she climbed in, his piercing eyes seemingly searching her face for clues. Still, he didn’t ask, he simply shut the door and walked about to the driver’s side.
She knew she should say something, tell him about what happened, but somehow she just couldn’t bring herself to do it. She didn’t want his pity, couldn’t stand the thought of it. So she would keep her silence and hopefully he would be all right with that. Only time would tell.