Anne shoved a piece of toast into her mouth to avoid answering.
"You're acting weird," he remarked, worry filling his eyes. "Are you sure nothing is wrong?"
'Yes, something is wrong. I dreamed about you… touching me, kissing me—making love to me.' The thought alone made her cheeks burn hotter. But she could never admit that. Not in a million years.
She picked up her glass of juice and took a long sip, hoping he wouldn't notice the way her hands trembled slightly.
Augustine couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right with her, that something was disturbing her. "Whatever it is that's bothering you, you can tell me." His voice softened. "I mean it, Anne. If something is wrong, just say it."
Anne nearly choked on her drink. 'Tell you! Not in this lifetime.' Slamming the glass down a little too forcefully, she shot to her feet, her chair scraping against the floor. "I'm done."
Before he could press further, she spun on her heel and bolted, her heart pounding.
