Merlin tried not to immediately bristle at the wording of the statement. It was just a phrase. “Talking about it” didn’t NEED to involve actual talking
though it usually did.Talk about what, exactly?
“What the fuck ever is making you sulk like a massive storm. It’s like having a continuous roll of thunder in my head.” She sat on his bed and folded her legs up, clearly with every intent of staying until something changed.
I’m fine, Summer. Don’t worry about it, he mentally muttered, rubbing at his eyes with one hand. He turned to look out his window, avoiding eye contact with Summer. It would be easier—too easy—to let his guard down in front of her since she knew about his secret.
“YOU CAN’T LIE TO ME!” she exploded, slamming her hands down on the bed. Okay, maybe that was an overreaction, but it was severely irritating for him to say ‘I’m fine’ to /her/, of all people. “You don’t /want/ to talk about it, say that, but don’t you fucking /lie/ to me.”
