"No, he doesn't," he mumbled softly. His arms tightened around her and he pulled her close. "He can't hate you, Hannah," he reassured her. "He's just angry but he'll get over it... he'll calm down." As he held her, his fingers moved through her hair and over her back. If he could have, he would've given anything to take her tears away from her.
When she pulled away again, he frowned. "I'm fine," he insisted stubbornly. "It doesn't feel as bad as it looks."
She wouldn't be dissuaded, though, and he had no other option than to take the ice from her when she held it out to him.
"I'm alright," he insisted as he slowly pushed himself up from the floor. "I... are you okay?"
As happy as he would be to stay with her, the invitation didn't sound like the usual ones she extended and he certainly didn't want to push himself on her if she'd rather be alone. "Talk to me, Hannah," he urged as he moved closer to her and reached out to run a gentle hand over her shoulder.
They'd been having an amazing evening. It was ruined now, though, and he hadn't even gotten to give her the gift he'd gotten for her, yet.