“The one thousand meters, right?” I blink at him. “I’ll run it for you.” “Wait—what?” I massage my throbbing temples, willing myself to concentrate. To make sense of this. “I’ll be faster anyway,” he says with his usual disdain, like I’m slowing him down right now. But the smugness doesn’t spread to his eyes. He’s watching me, tentative, intensely focused. “No. Julius, you don’t have to—” “I’ll give you the medal as a present,” he says, already turning around. “Just wait.”
