My face burns, and I bite the inside of my cheek.

“I just… I wanted to make sure you were okay after the flag thing this morning.”

“I ate lunch in Figg’s room. I do that sometimes,” he says, still not looking at me.

“Oh.”

I let the silence stretch between us while I try to think of something else to say. Julian flips a page in his notebook and keeps writing. I think his answers are going to be a lot more thorough than mine. I can’t focus, sitting this close to him. I can almost feel the heat coming off of his knee under the desk. I wonder how much I would have to stretch my leg to accidentally touch his again. I wonder if I did that if I could just leave it there, resting against his knee like it’s no big deal. Nothing to see here. Just two dudes touching knees under the desk.

“I’m fine,” he says.

“What’s that?”

“The flag thing. I’m fine.”

“Oh, right. Well, that’s good. Have you thought about your next move?’

“Hey, I said I’m fine. I didn’t say I wanted to talk about it,” Julian says, crossing his legs at the ankle and stretching out in the chair. He pulls his notebook into his lap and continues writing.

I finish the next question and try again.

“Are your ribs feeling okay?”

Julian sighs hard and drops his pencil on the desk. “No. They’re really not,” he says, clearly not thrilled that he invited me to sit with him.

“Are you going to be able to play this afternoon? What about Saturday? How are you feeling about that?” I press on.

“Elijah, jeez,” he whispers harshly. “The questions! Yes, my ribs hurt like mad right now. Yes, I’m still playing today. And Saturday! Can we please just get through this assignment?”

“Sorry, I guess I’m just… I’m worried about you,” I say, my cheeks and my neck burning.

Julian’s lips are set in a line, but his shoulders release and he relaxes into the chair a little bit. “Yeah.”

I try to focus on the next question in the study guide, but the questions swim in front of my eyes and my brain can’t make sense of the letters on the page. I start writing, even though I know all my answers are probably wrong because I’m so distracted.

“Thanks,” he says so quietly I almost miss it.

He keeps his head in his notebook until the end of the class. When the bell rings, he grabs his bag and bolts out of the classroom without even a glance in my direction. I thought he’d at least wait for me since we’re both headed to football practice.