Summer felt her face heat and had to duck her head away from those eyes. “I just … tripped over my own feet.” This was not good. This was very not good. “I’m fine,” she lied, even though she could feel her ankle starting to throb a bit. She made herself pull away from him, and gave a gamine smile. “I think I owe you yet another apology now, for my clumsiness.”
He looked at her and looked at her foot, worried that perhaps she had strained it more than she did show or tell him that she had.
“Worry not of any apologies,” he said, “You need not do so for the likes of me.”
She laughed breathlessly. “No more concern for your own dignity than I have for mine. I … I think perhaps I had better sit down somewhere,” she added, as she began to waver.
He held her close as she spoke and he looked at her, concerned.
“Should I carry you, perhaps you had injured your ankle more than you do seem to show.”
Summer started to protest, then gave it up as a bad job when her ankle wobbled again. “Yes, please,” she sighed.