Kyle stops and turns to look at her, even as she continues cutting. His free hand pulls into a fist at his side as he turns back to the pan. Then it unravels and he continues on, dismissing his frustration. She doesn't want him to touch her, she gets mad at him for not touching her. It's a frustrating thing to navigate, but he tries to let it go.

"Yeah," he agrees distractedly, turning the heat down under the sausage and turning it up under the vegetables. After she finishes with the tomato, he stops with a small sigh and turns to face her again. He's too frustrated to drop the subject.

"Tell me how to treat you." It's not angry or accusing, said with a degree of expectation but not one of judgment. "I'm not the brightest guy and I'd appreciate it if you could give me a road map. What was it about me boosting you up at the store? That it was unexpected? The intimacy? Your waist? Being in the bread aisle? You don't want me to treat you like a special snowflake, I don't want to treat you like a special snowflake. So help me understand."