Free Anthem's Fall by S.L. Dunn Page A

smiled. When they were out of hearing range and leaving the dining hall, she turned to him with a mocking expression as she adjusted the lid on her cup. “So rugby doesn’t interest you, huh? You don’t want to get out there and show everyone what you’re made of? Smack some skulls around and so on?”
    Ryan made a sheepish face. “Eh, the whole no helmet idea just seems ill conceived. The last thing anyone would want is for me to somehow harm my facial features.”
    “Yeah, a broken nose would be far worse than permanent brain damage.”
    Ryan had an athletic build, and it did not require too much imagination to envision him catching a football or driving a basketball down the lane. It had not been the first time someone encouraged him to join a club team, but Ryan had never been very interested in organized sports. Cerebral pursuits had always struck him as more engaging.
    “Did you play any sports before college?” Kristen asked. “I need to know if I’m getting familiar with a jock-type here.”
    “None worth noting,” Ryan shook his head. “Never been much of an athlete.”
    “Oh, well, me neither,” Kristen said, her tone casual. “I’m a train wreck when it comes to athletics. I did winter track my junior year in high school. Hated every minute of it. Asthma and the four-hundred meter aren’t a good mix. I ran junior varsity, and it was not a pretty sight.”
    Ryan envisioned her running laps at a high school track and saw the odd mismatch. “Well, you must be a world-class biologist.”
    “True, I suppose.” Kristen shrugged, a breeze lightly moving her hair. “I guess we all have different skill sets. Where others are good at rugby, you are good at arguing against lobbyists.”
    “Please don’t think of me as a good arguer. Being argumentative is an annoying trait. I just happen to get fired up when people in positions of power twist facts for special interests.”
    “Fair enough, argue was a poor word choice. But you have to admit you can rock a debate. I mean you practically sent that lobbyist running from the podium.”
    Ryan shrugged. “I suppose if I feel strongly enough about a subject I can defend my stance. But seriously, please don’t think of me as someone who is talented at being a dogmatic arguer. Argumentative people frustrate the hell out of me.”
    “Deal.”
    “Well, this is me,” Ryan said, coming to a halt at the wide marble stairway that led up to the doors of a stone lecture hall. Droves of students, some Ryan recognized from his class, were entering the dignified building.
    “Cool,” Kristen said with a smile. “I don’t think anything’s ever brought me in there. I haven’t been in most of the undergrad lecture halls, actually.”
    “Ah, you’re missing out,” Ryan said. He wanted to see her again and was now being careful not to allow an awkward moment to rear its deflating head. “What’s your schedule like tomorrow?”
    Kristen raised a slender hand to her chest. “My schedule? I’m not sure. I’ll probably be at my lab for most of the morning. Beyond that, I don’t really have anything planned. I more or less make my own agenda.”
    Ryan took a shallow breath and held it, his chest filling with cement.
    “You know . . .” He tried to make his voice sound casual, but was fairly certain Kristen could see his heart beating through his shirt. “We should hang out tomorrow. That is, if you have nothing to do during the afternoon—or night, or whatever.”
    “Hang out?” Kristen looked up at him with a questioning, almost goading expression, taking some amusement in his fumbling. “Hang out as in give you an interview about the Vatruvian cell? Or like a date?”
    “Well, now that you mention a willingness to discuss the Vatruvian cell,” Ryan pretended to mull it over. “Nah. Let’s say a date.”
    Kristen laughed and nodded offhandedly. “Yeah, sure. I’d like that. But I really should be getting back to my lab; things are kind of crazy