Summer sighed and leaned her arms on the counter, hanging her head between them. “Don’t be. It’s not your fault I … It’s not your fault.” She swallowed hard and told her body to behave, then carried the glasses back over.
“What’s going on, Summer? What did I do or say wrong? I’m sorry for whatever it was…” he stated helplessly and reached out to take his glass from her, regarding her with increasing concern.
She pressed her lips together and didn’t look at him. “It’s /not/ you. It’s … ” She struggled with words for a moment. “Please don’t be mad at me for this. I — you’re really cute, okay, and I’m having a hard time ignoring that. I’m not going to hit on you or anything.” A sick feeling settled in her stomach as she waited for him to get up and leave.