“It makes you uninformed. And, and, and blinded. You’ll overlook things that are bad because you’re biased.” Summer wanted to take his hand, but she wouldn’t let herself. She didn’t deserve it. Him. As a friend. As anything. He would get hurt, because of her; she would hurt him. Underneath that surety was a little voice of reason, but it was drowned out by the self-hatred.
“I get the feeling you’re trying to push me away here, Summer, and I thought that I was supposed to be the paranoid and insecure one?” Isaac stated softly, cocking his head to the side as his fingers itched to curl around hers. He couldn’t explain where the urge came from, and whether or not she would welcome it, so he retracted his hand and slumped slightly. “Do you want me to go?”
“No!” The word shot out of her before she could stop it. “Don’t leave,” she said more calmly. “I’m — I’m not trying to — well, I am, but — I’m just not the good person you think I am, Isaac.” She twisted her fingers together. “Sorry. This isn’t why I — I didn’t mean you to see this. I’m sorry.”