“/Is/ there an actual Ben & Jerry’s store in this town?” Beth asks, idly. She doesn’t get an answer, and shoos Summer out of the scoring computer seat when Stiles finishes his frame. “Go get some drinks. And nachos, I want nachos. Both of you, while I set up the next game.”
Summer gives her a flat look, which Beth only returns with a lifted eyebrow. She’s basically telling Summer to deal with it, the way one deals with a fear of bees — exposure. Summer sticks her tongue out before shrugging her shoulders at Stiles. “I guess we’ve been told. I’m going to need the extra hands anyway. Come on.”
She holds her head high, displaying as much “devil-may-care” attitude as she can find, when she walks past Jesse. She doesn’t actually look at him, though he’s watching her, and when his gaze switches to Stiles it noticeably darkens.
“Nah, we live in nowheresville.” Stiles says back to Beth, laconic as always, eyebrows raised. “You have to go to the mall in freaking Auburn to get an honest to God Ben and Jerry’s store. Which is lame.”
Of course, then he’s being herded towards the concessions stand, and Stiles is all tripping over both of his feet, simultaneously, slouched back towards the shoving, until he gets a handle on his body and manages to propel it in the direction he wants it to go. “Okay. Hopefully I won’t actually drop the nachos on the way back. It’s a hazard you’re all taking with your melty cheese, I just want that stated now.”
He’s not nearly as recalcitrant as his words would make it seem. All in all, in fact, Stiles seems to be having a reasonably good time. Part of that time might be coming from egging Jesse on, because as he gets to passing the other boy by and he notices the darkened expression—he blows a kiss.
No one ever said he wasn’t an instigator.
Summer is far too busy pretending she doesn’t care to notice how provocative Stiles is being. It’s hard; she wants so badly to talk to him, to ask why and understand. She’s too used to being able to guess, predict, infer, from what people feel — not knowing is frustrating.
Abstractedly, she orders, tapping her debit card against the counter while they wait. She keeps her gaze forward, which is why she doesn’t notice Jesse coming up and trying to punch Stiles in the face.