George hadn't expected to turn and find that face looking back up at him. He was expecting this whole conversation to be about her 'explaining' why she didn't want to go on a date with him, and why she couldn't return his feelings, rubbing salt in his already open wound. But that's not what this face was—this face looked hurt, and achey, and he startled when she rushed at him, arms wrapping around him and he was left standing there, just holding glasses.
Like an idiot. He quickly stacked the cups behind her back and pulled away just long enough to set them on the counter. He wasted no time wrapping his arms back around her and hauling her close, kissing her temple. "Don't apologize," he begged her, hating the look he'd seen on her face and wanting it to go away. "I'm sorry I pushed it, Eva. I'm sorry I'm messing it up."