She furrowed her brow and picked the can out of the sink, tossing it into the recycling bin. "You don't have to go, no. I'm not mad about anything idiotic. What do I have to be mad at you for? You've said your piece to me and I said mine. That's enough, isn't it? Like I said, I'm not bitter, Noah." She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back against the fridge, eyes trained on him. She wasn't quite sure what he was on about, but assumed maybe he'd been drinking before coming over. He was acting pretty paranoid.
"I don't have my phone, and that's the truth. I'm not quite sure what you're suggesting. Call it if you want. You can check my pockets. I don't have it." She frowned. He got one thing right, though. He wasn't staying the night.