“I, uh … I — I didn’t mean to say that?” She’s plastered against the window, as if she somehow expects him to leap at her or stomp out of the room or something else generally awful. “S-stiles? Say something!”
Stiles reaches fingers into his hair, scratching them through his short brown hair in attempt to process what he’d heard. Sometimes he temporarily forgot her feelings she’d admitted, mainly because she was so talented at hiding them. At least….that’s what he’d thought.
“Sorry, you…made me speechless. That’s hard as hell to do.”
“That’s not the way I want to shut you up,” she mutters, low, half-turning away. She hates the way she speaks before she thinks when she’s excited and teasing. It always gets her into trouble. “You, um. You don’t … you can leave, if you want. I know I — messed it up.”
