‘You’re calling me boring now? You, with the jam-packed, thrills and spills, whirlwind of a social calendar?’
If Cee-Cee had made that comment, I might have jabbed my teaspoon up her nostril. Instead, I had to fight back a smile. It had been a long time since anyone except Joey had teased me. At some point, Nathan had strolled on into the ‘knows me well enough to banter’ zone. I liked him being there more than was sensible.
‘At least I’m working on my issues.’ I pointed at him, accusingly. ‘What do you eat if you’re at a party? Or a wedding?’ Dani could probably have made use of my cross-examination skills in court today. ‘Do you eat chicken salad for Christmas dinner, while lecturing your family about refuelling and post-present-unwrapping cool-downs?’
He smiled at that. Then frowned again.
‘Seriously, do you ever eat something just because it tastes good, or you feel like it, or it brings back a lovely memory, or is a fun way to mark a special moment?’
‘I think what I eat does taste good.’
‘What did you eat on your last birthday?’
‘I can’t remember.’ Nathan shovelled in a forkful of eggs, stuffing his mouth too full to speak.
‘Either you ate what’s on the spreadsheet of boringness, or you didn’t. Don’t pretend you can’t remember whether you sometimes commit food crime or not.’
He chose not to answer that.
Intrigued, I waited until he’d swallowed the last mouthful, then pushed a little further. ‘When was the last time you did something spontaneous?’
Nathan sat back, eying me suspiciously. ‘Is this interrogation some kind of revenge for that second hill?’
I pressed one hand to my chest, as if shocked and affronted. ‘Interrogation? I’m just making conversation, trying to pick up some life hacks from my coach. Now I’m wondering why that question makes you feel uncomfortable.’
‘It doesn’t.’ He shifted, uncomfortably. ‘I like order and routine and following a system. I’m cool with that, and if the situation called for it, I could change my plans.’
Chris came back at that point to clear our plates. ‘Nathan, change plans? Maybe if there was a meteor strike. Or a terrorist attack. If he broke both his legs halfway through a training session, he’d drag himself through the rest on his backside.’
‘I can change my plans,’ Nathan said, his face turning an interesting shade of pink.
‘That’s like your mate Harry saying he can go a whole night out without a drink, he just can’t provide a single example.’ Chris winked at me and started to walk away. Then he froze, and backed up again. ‘Hang on, I just remembered. A few weeks back. The match. We thought you must have been hit by a bus or something.’
‘Okay, thanks, Chris,’ Nathan interrupted. ‘I think you’ve got a customer waiting.’
Chris glanced back. ‘There’s no one there, mate.’ He turned to me. ‘We were seriously worried. Nathan never misses a warm-up. He’s never even been late. To bunk off the first match of the season? Against our arch-rivals, Houghton? Couldn’t believe it. We lost, as well. The lads’ve changed his shirt name to No Show.’
‘Bye then, Chris. Thanks for breakfast.’ Nathan did not sound very thankful.
‘And he lost the captaincy. Gotta have a damn good reason to decide you’re going to change plans for the first time in your life under those circumstances.’
He whisked away before Nathan could say anything else.
‘It’s fine,’ I said, wishing I’d never brought it up. ‘I’m not going to pester you to tell me.’
Nathan huffed and shook his head, picking at an imaginary spot on the table. ‘It’s not a big deal.’
Hmmm. Sounded like it might be.
We left then, along with the rest of the Larks, who made me promise to join them another time. I jogged home through the mist, mercifully keeping the threat of sunrise from snapping at my heels.
And then, because I’m a nosy, emotionally stunted woman pretending she isn’t growing increasingly and dangerously besotted with her running coach, I had a good rummage around on the internet for Brooksby FC.
According to the list of team fixtures and match reports, the (ex)captain missed the first game of the season, against their biggest rivals Houghton, on Wednesday, 19 September.
September 19 was the day Joey came home from school with tonsillitis.
The day a strange man found me collapsed in a heap in the street, helped me get to the pharmacy, waited outside after I’d rudely rejected his offer to walk me home and made sure I got back safely anyway.
