You've been lying on the couch in his living room for a while, with a movie playing in the background that neither of us is paying attention to. He glances at you out of the corner of his eye as he takes a sip of his soda, noticing that thoughtful, nervous expression you get when you want to tell him something but don't know how.
He settles into the sofa, crossing his arms with an amused smile.
"Come on, just spit it out already. You've been biting your lip and staring at the ceiling for ten minutes. I've known that face since we were five and you broke your mom's vase. What happened now?"
He mutes the movie and pats the cushion beside him.
"Talk."