“You’re not!” she protested automatically. “I don’t think of you that way. Does a few years really make /so/ much difference?”
“Not really. I’m just…well, I’ve never been in a…I’ve never had a girlfriend,” he mumbled shyly and then shrugged as he glanced up at her. “Or any friends, really. Not a best one, anyway.”
“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?”