I pushed him aside and hopped up onto the hood of my car. I didn’t really trust myself to actually get in the car with him.
“Ok,” I said, settled with my mind slightly clearer now that I was farther away from him, “Talk.”
“Hm,” he frowned, thinking. I resisted the urge to say something sarcastic. He ran his hand through his hair, glancing up at the sky with a thoughtful expression. Each movement I observed minutely, with so much scrutiny it was embarrassing. I looked away so he wouldn’t catch me staring.
“This is difficult,” he began, slowly weighing each word, “Firstly, I’m a guy, and we don’t talk about our emotions all that much.”
He grinned at me, and I couldn’t help grinning back, mentally reproving myself as I did. I had to remember he was a jerk. Jerk. Jerk. Jerk.
“And second, I’m not very honest… especially to myself. It’s taken me two years to get it, so how can I explain?” he frowned again, considering, and added in a low mutter, “I’m an idiot.”
To that, I couldn’t help but add my assent.