“Summer! Summer, what?” He asked, matching her tone. He grinned, to make it known that he was teasing.
“I’m asking you, Stiles, please don’t tell him. That I’m — that I like him. Like that. He doesn’t need some crazy girl throwing herself at him — we’ve met /once/. /Once/,” she stressed. “I just need to know how long I should wait so I don’t seem desperate or clingy.”
“Summer, okay, I get it. Calm. Down,” he said, taking a light grip on her shoulders before miming taking a deep breath in indication for her to follow. “I don’t talk to Isaac that often, so you have nothing to worry about,” he assured her. “But I’ll let you in on a secret: if a guy gives you his number, he wants you to use it. Probably immediately. As long as you’re not professing your undying love to him, he probably won’t think you’re being clingy.”
She made herself take a deep breath, like Stiles said, and let it out in a sigh as she regretfully noticed that his touching her didn’t give her quite the same secret thrill anymore. She wasn’t quite sure she believed his reassurances, though. Small and a little sad, she said, “I don’t want to make the same mistake with him that I made with you. I’m so tired of being alone, Stiles.”