(Wouldn’t happen like a sexual thing, Ross is strictly dickly, but I do have something.)
Isiah had noticed the woman hitting on a bunch of people the night before at the bar, drunk and not at all safe to drive and he doubted she would want to wake up next to some of the people she was hitting on, so when she made her way to him he pretended to accept it and took her back to his hotel room but got her to sleep, covering her with the blanket when she finally did and getting himself as comfortable as he could on the couch, reluctantly taking a pain killer to do so so his leg wouldn’t wake him up, but he was still up before she was.
“Hey, how’d you sleep?” he asked, keeping his voice low when she awoke.”
“I hit on you,” Summer said, into the pillow. His footsteps sounded funny, and after a moment she decided it had something to do with that pain he was feeling. “I hit on you, and you’re gay, and I was really drunk. I’m /such/ an idiot sometimes.”
“That obvious that I’m not too into girls, huh?” he said, trying to make her feel better and laugh. Gingerly he sat down and tried to coax her out from under the pillow.
“Come now, it’s alright. You hit on a lot of people last night, you weren’t sober, it’s fine, I’m not mad.” he tried to reassure her, not liking that she was beating herself up over this.
Whoops. Should she not have noticed? Sometimes it was hard to separate things anybody paying attention could figure out from things only the ability to look into their heart could reveal. Summer shoved the pillow up against the headboard and looked up at the guy with one green eye.
“You,” she said, “are a remarkable person. Whose name I do not remember.”