For all her preference to just move on, as Andrea sat watching Kyle, he remained preoccupied with her wrists, as if holding them and glaring at the marks would make them disappear faster. She needed to think of something else to distract him if they were both going to move past this tonight.
"You know, Kyle, if anyone is going to make me scream, I'd much rather it be from getting pushed into a fountain," she teased, hoping to lighten the mood.
His eyes snapped up to meet hers, needing a moment to process this new change in direction. Then his eyes rolled so far that his head fell back until he started at the ceiling. She took the opportunity to subtly extract her wrists and pull the sleeves back down—out of sight, out of mind—before resting her chin on her knuckles and smiling for when he looked back down.
"I didn't push you!" He protested. "...You're never going to let me forget that, are you?"
