17: Deja Vu

                                    

                                          
GABBY
Kevin straightens his back. With a hand planted on his hip, he replies, "Coach asked me to get you."
I jerk my head back, confused. "What? He told me to take a break today."
He shrugs his shoulders and averts his gaze. Interesting. He refrained from talking to me all day, and now he's here? His behavior is strange... 
I dig my phone from my purse, checking the screen for new notifications. None. 
"What're you doing?" he hisses. "You don't believe me?"
I'm skeptical. I want to keep on quizzing Kevin, but I might not be able to restrain myself and start speaking like a hooligan. I'll wreck my image in front of Francis on the spot.
"Well, I'm already outside the premises," I mumble, nibbling on my bottom lip. "The stop is a few steps away–"
"Let's go back, Gabby," Kevin interjects softly, and he reaches out and clutches my wrist, his lashes fluttering uneasily.
My heart lurches. What's with this undertone of desperation? Is there something I really need to do at the gym?
I notice Francis's surprise as his gaze drops to where our skin has made contact, and I quickly pull my arm away. Kevin stumbles back a step, his jaw tightening. "W-Why are you, um, together?"
"I just bumped into Gabby," Francis answers. "Like what I said in the text."
I stare at Kevin, who turns his head away. Is that a flush on his cheeks? Did he rush here because he learned we're together? To sabotage my love life? Surely he can't be that petty!
Francis nudges me gently, "You should go. They probably need you."
I reluctantly nod, still perplexed about what's running inside Kevin's head. Again. Whatever. I want to speak to him and clear the air between us anyway.
As the car pulls up beside us, Francis glances at Kevin and asks, "Are you joining us for dinner?"
"No," Kevin responds flatly. "You know I won't... It's not like I'm needed with you there."
Francis's smile falters, a flicker of hurt crossing his features. I open my mouth, ready to defuse the tension, but Francis speaks first. "Kevin, it's not like that."
I fidget, torn between speaking up and letting it go. Francis' face has turned a shade lighter, whereas my stomach feels queasy with the air thickening with tension around us. Kevin's bluntness stings, revealing his disdain without any effort to mask it.
And Francis absorbs it. Perhaps out of gratitude to Kevin's family. Perhaps out of guilt.
Francis glimpses at me, offering a small, strained smile that doesn't reach his eyes. I feel a sudden urge to comfort him, to mend the rift between them. But it's not my place to intervene. "Gabby, I'll go ahead," he says.
"Yeah, sure."
"Let's do this again sometime."
The invitation lightens the mood. Mine. Certainly not Kevin's, whose expression still remains flat, with a hint of scowl like a sulking child.
Francis gets in the car, leaving me and Kevin alone together. I try not to look at him for as long as I can until I'm unable to ignore that he and I need to wrap up this awkwardness. This awkwardness which is a far cry from the bickering we used to have–at least then, it wasn't nerve wracking. I'd choose that a thousand times over this.
So, I begin, "You're such an attention seeker."
He frets. "What? What did I do wrong?"
"Don't pretend as if you didn't show up on purpose."