“What does age have to do with … ” She changed tack in the middle of the sentence. “It’s because of — him, isn’t it? You didn’t want to have to hide it or try to explain.” Summer looked down at their hands again, his on top of hers. “You keep touching me. Does that mean you think of me as your best friend?”
“W-what are you talking about?” he whispered warily and kept his hand on hers, ducking his head as he fought the tempting urge to hunch in on himself. “Yeah. Is…is that okay?”
“You can’t help how you feel,” she parroted back softly. “I don’t — I don’t know what to do now. I expected you to be angry with me.”