Her shoulders slumped, head tilting downward. “I’m not everyone. I’m sure because I know myself. I know what I look like, what I act like. I’m not attractive, not pretty. Too short, too skinny, mouth too wide, hair too long, tongue too sharp.” It spilled out like popping a water balloon.
The playboy suddenly felt a pang of guilt. He frowned at her and sighed quietly. “You are too attractive,” he furrowed his brows at her. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, you’re beautiful. And about the sharp tongue, every self respecting guy wants a girl with wit. One who isn’t afraid to say what’s on her mind,” he turned his body to face hers and placed a hand on her shoulder in a comforting manner, taking a step closer. “Life would be boring if everyone looked the same and had the same personality. Our differences are what makes life worth living.”
“Hark at you, all comfort and solicitousness. Did you already forget the part where I know what you’re feeling? Either you’re way better than anyone I’ve ever met at pretending not to feel something, or about half what you just said is total bullshit.” Her body was tense under his hand, and Summer refused to look up at Tony. “Just … fuck.”