She was hiding from him. The quiet laugh was a surprise, though, and she cringed from it. What was he laughing at? At her? Well, she deserved it -- but no, that wasn't it, was it? She listened very carefully to what he had to say. It was easier - and harder - with his hand soothing out some of the sharp aching. She found herself turning into his touch without meaning to. Every little motion was precious.
"I rather thought I was doing a good job at hiding it," she objected weakly. She'd put quite a bit of effort into it, too, over the months -- stashing away moments where her heart twisted for him. The time in the hospital when he'd stood beside an older man who just lost his wife. The day when he'd given his jacket to a young man who'd been out in the rain without one. The evening when she'd come home exhausted, and he'd brought her tea and made her sit down on the couch while he looked after dinner.
Evey'd never focused on what it was about Peter that drew her to him. There'd be no point to it. It was more than clear that -- "You're really quite completely out of my league," she said. She didn't know what to do with his answer that he might just feel the same as she. Evey'd never prepared for that. The rejection, yes. The gentle denial, yes. But this?