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K.—you can murder me if you want,” she said, and he laughed and patted her knee.But he was still disconcertingly quiet, and all her bubbling attempts at making conversation bounced right off him.
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Robert came to pick her up in a muddy white Civic with candy wrappers spilling out of the cup holders.
On the drive, he was quieter than she’d expected, and he didn’t look at her very much.
She was wearing leggings and a sweatshirt, and that might have been the problem.
When she got into the car, he’d said, “Glad to see you dressed up for me,” which she’d assumed was a joke, but maybe she actually had offended him by not seeming to take the date seriously enough, or something.
The thought of this possible vulnerability touched her, and she felt kinder toward him than she had all night. “I thought you said you were older.”“I told you I was a sophomore! Standing outside the bar, having been rejected in front of everyone, was humiliating enough, and now Robert was looking at her as if she’d done something wrong.“But you did that—what do you call it?