She veers back like I’ve screamed at her, though I barely raised my voice above a whisper.
Hurt flashes across her eyes.
It’s a cop-out of an answer. She knows it, too.
She has an answer. A real one.
She’s just not willing to be honest with me.
“Maybe you should go and rest,” I tell her dismissively. “You’re obviously emotional.”
She clenches her teeth hard. “I’m fine,” she says defensively.
“Don’t tell me how I feel,” she retorts, her hackles rising instantly.
I shake my head. “Maybe we should talk tomorrow.”
But even my air of calm seems to piss her off.
“What’s wrong with right now, huh?” she demands. “The night is young. I’m not tired.”
“The word I used was ‘emotional,’” I remind her.
She snaps, “I’m not that, either.”
At last, I turn the rest of the way around to square u
