[She tips her face back towards him, inclining her head even if she still can't quite look at him. Tightens her fingers almost imperceptibly against his even as her other hand picks nervously at the fabric of her jeans.]

S'all I can ask for. That you try.

[Really try, she thinks, because she's having mental images of him with his arms folded, tapping a foot and staring down whoever draws the short straw. Then again, she's got no room to criticize there, and she actually gives a rueful little laugh.]

You couldn't do worse than I did my first time, anyway. But it'd -

[And she does force herself to look at him then, trying to keep her expression steady instead of needy, almost desperate.]

It'd mean a lot to me if you did.