“ you think i don’t notice but i do. i can tell something’s wrong. ”
Rachel huffed and rolled her eyes, but still she turned her back on him and huddled her arms across her stomach, as if she were trying to fold in on herself.
"Didn't realize you could read minds," she said dryly. She did not want to talk about this, not to Stefan, not to anyone. She was hurt, obviously, but she just felt so stupid. Her eyes darted around for some kind of distraction and landed on the dry bar. Yes, alcohol good. She marched her way over and poured a generous helping of bourbon, taking a long drink before turning to face Stefan.
"So what do you notice? Hmm, Stefan? That I'm short tempered, sarcastic--no, downright haughty to people? That my mood sucks and I drink too much and I don't sleep at night? Newsflash: That's been going on since I got out of rehab. Nothing new." Her words carried bite that she didn't mean, but when she was hurt she was like a wounded bear, lashing out at anyone near her.
"What does it matter to you anyway? You're not responsible for me. I'm not a way for you to relieve your guilt. You can't save me, Saint Stefan."