“Just remember you asked for those. I already know I’m not your type.”
Stiles nervously ran a hand through his hair. “It’s not… This is gonna sound horrible. Superficially speaking, you are so my type… Emotionally? On my part… You’re more of a sister. I’m really sorry, again.”
“The only way it’s horrible is horribly familiar,” she sighed. “Please stop being sorry. It’s not your fault I want too much. I guess I just thought after Winter sent you those pictures — I assumed. I just — anyway.”