She didn’t understand his thought process. He wanted someone to hangout with, someone to sleep, someone he could have intellectual conversations with. He didn’t want a girlfriend. He thought he made that clear by insisting on their hangouts being strictly secret.

Sure they interacted at work, but never much than helping each other restock shelves at Build-It.

She was mad, and he understood it to a certain extent. He never explicitly told her that he didn’t want a relationship, that he didn’t like her like that. But still.

They stood in the back room of Build-It arguing while he tried to finish orders, cutting wood planks.

“I don’t understand why you’re being so bitchy. You’re just a dirty little secret that shouldn’t get out.” He said, finalizing the argument and his feelings.