The flush shot up into her face so fast her ears rang. Summer had to swallow hard and remind herself to close her mouth. “You could have any girl in the world just for asking.” She could not help herself; she looked down at her hands, limp and shaking slightly in her lap. She couldn’t doubt him, not with it brought to the surface by her questions. Oh, she was answered with a vengeance!
“You can choose anyone, and yet you’re saying that /I’m/ too good for you.”
Tony wanted to reach over and touch her, and he did make a move to do so, but he restrained himself. Barely. He put his hands on his knees and squeezed them to keep them busy. Because she was too good for him, like he’d said. “Yeah…” He answered lamely, not knowing what to say.
“I suppose that’s better than ‘you’re not my type,’” she whispered, starting to knot her fingers together. He wanted her. He wanted her, and he wasn’t going to do anything about it, and hide behind this excuse of her goodness. In the end, how was that any different than not being good enough? Their burgeoning friendship would struggle under it, if her past told true.
She wanted to run away, but first she had to do something about this burn in her chest all of a sudden.
Tony bit his tongue. To him it hurt so much more than telling someone that they weren’t his type. Because he wanted her to be. But he had too many demons, too many bad memories.
And those demons, and his desire, were picking at him as he sat there, forcing one hand to leave the safety of his knee and to find its way to hers. It sat there gently as he tried to decide what to do.
When his hand covered hers, she jumped. All his pain and fear rang down the touch, and she couldn’t help it anymore; she started to cry. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you again. I’m sorry. I’m not, I’m not what you say I am, truly. I’m just me, plain ordinary me.”