He shook his head wistfully and whispered, "I don't know how to stop trying, either."
Rolling my eyes, I sighed loudly. Then I muttered, "I'm really frustrated."
"I know," he said. He paused, thinking, and then added, "I didn't mean to frustrate you. And I didn't mean to... well, I shouldn't have done anything with you."
I found myself studying his face. He looked... disconsolate. And I was fairly confident that he was fighting a war of desire about what was right and wrong. I decided to just speak my mind. Leaning closer to him, I whispered, "But I wanted to do something with you."
He slowly lifted his head toward me until our eyes met again. His seemed to flick back and forth between mine, like he was trying to decide where to focus while he stared at me. I felt a warmth blossom in m
