Too stiff

Elma could swear that the evening had been peaceful and, above all, exciting. Back at the bistro, she did not read Ricardo's emotions to suggest any kind of coercion. Whatever he had done that day was certainly of his own free will and not at all forced. So now, as they drove back to the office, his face all serious and hovering, she could not tell what was wrong. More importantly, she did not think that whatever was wrong with his mood was due to her. Did something happen when he excused himself to go to the toilet?

She wished she could ask - she wanted to ask. She needed to know what was bothering him so much that his knuckles had turned white on the steering wheel. He was gripping the thing tightly, and that singular fact was beginning to worry her.

"Something on your mind? Then you should say it."