Stiles slammed his laptop shut as he walked over to the widow, cracking it so he could speak to Summer. “H-hey… Uh… Whatcha doing?”
“Don’t call an ambulance!” Summer said hastily. “There’s nothing ‘just’ about it. You let me know how you like it when every muscle in your body seizes up.” The last half of the sentence was increasingly bitten off as more muscles clenched. One in her lower back spasmed and she arched, gasping. Tears started in her eyes.
“I deal with a lot of weird shit, but I’m not used to this. Sorry for not knowing what to do or say,” he said, staring helplessly, not sure how to help.
“Just keep talking. Seriously. Just talk to me. You haven’t exactly explained.” Summer dragged herself around until she was propped up against his bed, legs stretched out straight. She wanted to be able to look at him while he talked. “And you owe me an explanation,” she went on, while her legs trembled. “I could’ve taken advantage of you, you know, and I didn’t.”