Stiles pretended not to notice the ginger looking at him over her books, but at some point, enough was enough. He got up and walked across the library, sitting across from her. “Okay, why are you looking at me like that?”
“Oh, god, I sound like such an idiot!” Summer put her hands over her face, hoping she wasn’t as red as she felt. “I’m really sorry. I just — you — someone needs to whack me.”
“No! No! It’s fine, Summer!” he said, laughing and sitting next to her. “I’d offer, but I’m not in the habit of hitting girls… Unless they hit first.”
“I didn’t say hit,” she pointed out. “I said whack. It’s not the same thing. Whacking is not supposed to hurt; it’s a jolt, like how boys hit their fists on each other’s shoulders and stuff.”