Looking down at her hand for a moment, he didn't know which of her statements to address first. Tilting his head back a little to allow her to see his full face, he sat up straighter and leaned forward a little, his elbows resting on his thighs, his hands connecting in front of his chin, the fingers in a steeple shape. In a calm voice, he asked, "You want to be my new best friend?" Waiting a moment, he continued, "What if I don't want a friend? What if I'm not the type of person who you actually will want to be your friend?"
That was the most he had said in weeks. What the hell was wrong with him? Maybe it was because finally someone spoke to him that was worthy of his attention and time, or maybe it was because she was pretty fucking hot. Whatever the reason, he moved his hand slowly forward, keeping it steady, for her.