Summer wanted to cheat. She wanted to cheat so badly. What was he feeling? Was he nervous too? Was that why he held himself so still, why he kept swallowing?
(don’t watch his throat, don’t watch his neck)
Or was he just giving her time to dig herself in deeper before cutting her to shreds with words?
(no one can love you, ma chère, no one can ever love you)
How did other girls do this? How did they open themselves up, cracked open like a geode, and deliberately show someone what was inside, knowing how easily you could be shattered? A breeze kicked up, and she shivered. She had to know, couldn’t stand not knowing —
the bitterness of chopped onion (fear) / lemon and sugar (hope)
Summer found herself smiling. Gently, so gently, she said, “You said that already. Issac. I’m Summer.”
He spotted the shiver and debated letting her inside but for the moment, they’d have to talk outside. At least until he knew she wasn’t crazy or worse — lying. With all that had been happening in Beacon Hills as of late, he wasn’t really quick to trust. Besides, she had to be at least a little unhinged if she liked him. Surely a girl that good looking would go for someone more her league.
”Right, yeah, nice to meet you, Summer.” He paused, being a little lost for words. He hadn’t really expected her to just turn up at his doorstep. “Do you,” he cleared his throat, “do you go to Beacon Hills?” He meant the high school of course. If she did, she wasn’t in any of his classes — he’d remember a face like hers.
Summer shook her head, slowly. “No. I go to the college. I’m a sophomore.” A little smile, secretive, curved her mouth. “You’ve never seen me before. Not to notice.”
He tasted of nerves, now, and confusion, still sweetened with that hope underneath. She thought maybe he wasn’t sure what to do with her. “Ask me anything,” she said, turning her hands palm up to him. “I know you don’t trust me yet.”