Summer nodded encouragingly, squeezing a little. Ducking her head, she tried to catch his eyes, but he kept pulling them away. She’d never heard a more unconvincing ‘I’m fine’ in her life. He seemed so prickly, and then it turned out there was this well of pain.
“It has to be more than just lust,” she murmured. She drew in a deep breath, drawing back her hand. “Can you tell me what happened?” Curiosity was her besetting sin.
It seemed like this tin man did have a heart.
But the difference was, at times like this, he didn’t want it.
He didn’t want to feel it tighten at the thought of her, how he let her force down the walls he’s built up for the better of his life, take what she wants, then leave.
Especially not in front of Summer, the ‘new girl’ in his life, per se, because she is new, to him, and a girl.
That he’s currently trying to make heads or tails of his feelings towards her.
“What’s there to tell? You already know the score,” he said, lifting his gaze to meet hers for a moment or so before training them on the coffee table once more.
What that really meant was ‘no’. ‘No, this hurts, stop.’ So she stopped, running the discarded necklace through her hands again. “Sorry,” she muttered. “I didn’t mean to bring that up for you.” They didn’t look at each other for a moment, avoiding gazes and pasts and thoughts, and then she cleared her throat
“So, uh, how long have you lived here?”