Summer slipped into the house, stepping carefully so she didn’t brush him. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know what she would sense if they touched. Not yet. “Thank you.” She wanted a little of the mystery she’d created for him to remain for both of them, right now.
It was hard not to know certain things, though, now that she had opened up. Hard not to sense his unease, and understand that it wasn’t her specifically.
“A soda would be really nice.” It would give her hands something to do, so she didn’t fidget. Maybe. Already one hand was behind her back, fingers sliding through her hair. Summer put the other hand back there, too, and stepped into the living room. A couch beckoned, and she perched on the edge.
”Sure thing, just um, have a seat on the couch while I go grab it,” he told her before turning on his heel and heading the opposite direction and into the kitchen. When he reentered the room, he carried a can in each hand, the metal cold against his skin, but it didn’t bother him at all.
”Oh shit, did you want a glass? I know some people don’t like drinking straight from the can—” he paused, waited for her response and ready to go grab one from the cupboard.
“It’s fine.” It was weird; the more his nerves showed, the less nervous she felt. She could still feel her pulse pounding in her chest, but she knew what to say, how to smile, to help him. “Relax. It’s fine.” She let the smile become self-deprecating. “I just dressed up to impress you.”
Summer patted the couch next to her. “I promised you could ask me anything.”