William wants Ivy to like him and he's trying to talk to her as she loads the dishwasher after dinner:
“Yes. I know.” I waved a dismissive hand as I opened the dishwasher and began stacking plates.
“Why do you do that?” He grumbled.
“Do what?” I tossed silverware into the basket. They clanked over my words.
I bit my lower lip, squashing a tight smile of triumph.
“Do I?” I said, squirting dishwashing liquid into the compartment on the door, before closing it with a firm shove, and setting the timer.
He didn’t answer me. I twisted around to face him. He was resting against the refrigerator with his arms folded across his chest, his usual stance.
“I’d like us to be friends.” He said quietly.
“I don’t know if we’re capable of that.” I wiped my hands on a dish towel.
He glared at me. Those cool lime orbs sparked with ire. He was still intimidating, but I was getting used to him.
“I’m quite capable of many things.” He bit out.
“Are you saying I’m not?”
“I think you implied it.” His smile was frosty.
“You always twist everything I say!” I threw the towel on the counter, stalking toward him.
He tossed his head back, smacking it into the refrigerator. “You are so frustrating to talk to!”
We were standing nose to chest. I had to lean my head back to look him in the eye as I poked a finger in his rock hard pectoral. It was like stabbing stone.
“And you are impossible!”