[ summer rainault ]
thenameislaheySummer wasn’t completely sure how her twin had managed to convince her to come back to Beacon Hills. There were just too many people she wasn’t sure she could face there, and since school hadn’t started there really wasn’t much need — but Winter had insisted. And despite persistent perceptions about the red-headed twin, if Winter put her foot down, Summer acquiesced.
She spent a lot of her time buried in books, though. Even when Winter chased her out of the apartment, Summer just took her book with her, reading as she walked, or ate, or sat. It mostly kept people from talking to her, and her from noticing people. She wasn’t ready to notice people yet.
Annoyingly, today, her favourite little diner was absurdly busy — to the point where all the tables seemed to be occupied by noisy families or couples or businessmen in earnest groups. She glanced around, tray in hand, and spotted a few half-empty tables. Surely it would be okay for her to share a table with someone, just today. She navigated to the nearest one, set down the tray to give her wrist some relief, and mumbled, “Sorry, it’s so busy, can I just share your table?”
It wasn’t uncommon for Isaac to eat out. He didn’t do it all the time but if Stiles was over for dinner, it was not at all a surprise to find Isaac going out. This particular day was no exception and the teen had been lucky enough to snag a booth before the diner became too full.
He sat in silence, eyes following the lines of words in the book he had brought with him for company. That was until a familiar voice interrupted him. His gaze flickered between the very obviously packed diner and the redhead that stood before him and not a moment later, he gave a curt response.
”It’s a free country.”
She had already sat down, not even looking at the other occupant, and plunged back into her book, when he spoke. Her gaze jerked up, fixing first on the curls, as unruly as ever, and then the planes of his face, and her heart seemed to leap up into her throat.
How had she not sensed him as soon as she walked in, much less /before/ she sat down at his table? Her hand shook, and she put her book down before she dropped it. “I-I’m sorry,” she managed. “I didn’t realise it was you. I’ll, I’ll … “