Summer is just shoving herself flat against the counter behind Stiles because of all the possible things to go wrong this hadn’t occurred to her at all; Jesse hasn’t actually spoken to her in weeks, not since that final disastrous meeting when he took her heart and stomped it into the mud. Andnow he’s here, he’s right here, saying the same ugly things /in front of someone else/.
Jesse and Stiles are actually kind of similar in appearance, she notices idly, both tall and lithe and dark-eyed, but Jesse wears his hair long and curly and wild like the raver he is and Stiles seems more clean-cut, more straight-up geek than outright rebel. The smile he’s wearing looks more like a slash across his face.
Jesse looks Stiles up and down, obviously taking note of the Star Wars shirt and Converse. Summer cuts in before he can say anything, though. “I can be here if I want to. You — you left, you don’t get to have any say about my friends.”
The smile gets more cruel, and he leans over her petite figure. “I’m just doing my Godly duty, protecting people from /you/. It didn’t work on me because I don’t believe in it, but this guy obviously isn’t so lucky.”
All she can do is protest, “It doesn’t work that way.”
“Okay, pal,” Stiles says, and now he’s bristling, taking a step forward and—yes—seemingly unconsciously putting his body between Jesse and Summer. “I don’t know you from Jack, but I can tell you that I don’t need anybody ‘protecting’ me. You wanna back up a little, ‘cause it’s obvious the lady here ain’t feeling it and I’ve known you for three seconds and I already don’t like you so I’m not blaming her.”
His shoulders are tense but his hands loose by his sides rather than balled up into fists. It’s hard to really see the shape of Stiles’ body beneath the multiple layers of clothing he wears, but Summer’s seen his bare arms in and was just prodding at his chest—he isn’t entirely without muscle. Despite the fact that it seems his go-to defense is running his mouth. ”Savvy?”
Jesse shoves Stiles in the shoulder, hard. “She’s already put you under her spell. Figures. It’s not like the little slut can get laid without lying.” His dark gaze flicks over to Summer, behind Stiles. “Quit stalking me, bitch. I’m immune to you, and I know how to deal with your kind now.”
She opens her mouth to reply, and stops short at Jesse’s final words. She isn’t sure what he means, but the vitriol behind it implies bad things. “You loved me once,” she whispers, instead, “I know you did.”
“You forced me to,” he spits back, trying to push Stiles out of the way to get to her. “You made me until I figured out how to escape.”
“I didn’t! I wouldn’t.” She wants to cry. Why does this have to happen now, at a time when she most wants to make a good impression, a new friend? She’d no idea Jesse hated her so much now.