Take a Hint, Dani Brown (The Brown Sisters #2)(22)
Zaf snorted. “Semi-secret identity? Really? That’s what we’re going with?”
Dani chose to ignore him. “You know, I might’ve listened to you drone on about rugby more often if I’d known you had a professional interest.”
“Would you, though?”
She thought for a moment. “No, actually. Never mind.”
His laughter faded far too quickly for her liking. “Listen—about the video. I just wanted to say, I’m really sorry. I probably didn’t need to carry you like that.”
He was apologizing? Really? “Zaf, you do realize it’s not your fault that a few students had nothing better to do than film and theorize about two random strangers they saw exiting a building, don’t you?”
“Well, yeah. But I don’t know if this kind of attention could get you into trouble, or—”
“No. I already spoke to my supervisor, and she’s not remotely bothered by what she called ‘internet gossip.’ Apparently, the whole thing is irrelevant to her life and to the department in general. So please don’t worry about that.”
“Good,” he said. “Good.” But he didn’t relax. If anything, she could almost see an edgy tension building around him, inflating like a balloon.
“You don’t like this, do you?” she asked, because suddenly she couldn’t hold the question in.
Zaf faltered. “What?”
“People talking about you.”
His gaze met hers, a hint of surprise flashing in the dark. “No. No, not really. Some things are fine, but others are off limits, and people never know where to draw the line. Doesn’t help that I—” He broke off, pressing his lips tightly together as if to trap the rest of that sentence.
“That you what?” She wanted to know because she’d always been horribly curious by nature, not because the exhaustion in his voice dug talons of worry into her heart or anything. God, no. Unless that was an ordinary feeling for work friends to have toward each other, in which case, yes, talons ahoy.
“That I have anxiety,” he finished, his jaw tense. “I like to think I have some control over my life. Makes things easier. But you can’t always control what people say.”
“No,” she said softly. “You can’t. The only thing you can control is what you do, and the things you do are frequently . . .” Lovely. But that was a disgusting thing to say. “Good,” she finished, rather pathetically. “The things you do are good. So. At least there’s that. I’m sure it doesn’t help much, when you’re . . . thinking . . . anxious things . . . but—at least there’s that.”
He watched her with a slow, quiet smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners, the warmth of his expression spilling over her like sunlight. “Good, am I?”
Oh, God. Oh, Christ. Couldn’t some passing, kindhearted citizen just bludgeon her to death?
But then Zaf’s gaze softened, and he said, “Thanks,” and Dani’s passionate wish for oblivion lessened, just a bit.
Still, it was time to move on before she said anything else ridiculous. “Since we’re on the subject—”
“I can’t wait to hear what completely unrelated subject we’re supposedly on,” Zaf murmured, because he was a bastard.
“Why don’t you tell me about this charity you run?”
Which is how she discovered that there was one topic grumpy, guarded Zafir was perfectly willing to discuss at length and without sarcasm. He lit up when he spoke about Tackle It, as if there were a tiny fire burning inside him, and making kids face their feelings on the rugby pitch fanned those flames. He described his week-by-week program, and she realized she’d never seen him so passionate before. He admitted he’d gone back to college to get qualifications in sports and psychology, and she realized she’d never seen him so focused. He muttered, “It’s not exactly successful, though. Yet,” and she realized she might actually kill to protect all of Zaf’s hope and tentative ambition and quiet, careful drive.
“Yet,” she repeated. “But soon. Aside from which, I’m sure your past must help.”
He looked up at her sharply. “What?”
“All your, er, rugby contacts and what have you. That sort of thing’s got to be a leg up.”
He looked strained. “I don’t like to rely on that. There are things in my past I’d rather not bring into the present. So I drew a line under it all.”
Snooping into the topics that made people turn quiet and rigid was not one of Dani’s favorite pastimes; all too often, it ended with someone who’d previously seemed quite sensible blubbering all over you. So she had absolutely no idea why some rogue, instinctive part of her demanded she pepper Zaf with questions until he explained exactly what he meant, and why there were shadows in his eyes all of a sudden.
Fortunately, he moved on before the urge could get the better of her. “Things are looking up since that video, though.”
Dani’s eyebrows flew up. “Really?”
“Yeah. Tackle It’s getting all kinds of attention. The thing is . . .” He shot her a look, one she couldn’t quite decipher, and shoved his hands into his pockets. But the flex of his muscular forearms told her those hands had curled into fists, out of sight. And the hard line of his jaw only confirmed that he was nervous.