Summer gave him the flattest possible gaze. “Would you please stop avoiding the question. A /mundane/ could tell there is something wrong here. Tell me what it is.” Why did she have to be so damn short? It made it very hard to intimidate people into answering her.
{♙} — ; “Ask someone else would you? I’m about this close,” he held up two fingers, holding them rather close to each other, “to just getting in my car and wrecking because I’m fucking done, so I don’t need you adding onto my stress by being a stubborn arse.” Even if he was being one, too.
Her mouth compressed at his admission. “That,” she said, “is why I’m asking you. Because I don’t /want/ you getting in your car and wrecking it.” She untangled her fingers from his collar, putting both hands back on her hips. “Come on, Xavier. I’m your friend. I care about you. So just tell me.”