“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.”
“Well, you definitely managed,” Stiles said, a bit more serious now than he was before. He notices the tone in her voice, not dense enough to grasp that she’s upset by his surprise. Then irritation builds in him, mainly due to the fact that she’s trying to force him out again, something he’s already established he doesn’t want to do.
“I don’t want to leave, I already told you that.”
“How can you not?” she blurts out. “I keep /saying/ things like that, the wrong thing, making it awkward and bad — I don’t understand.” She buries her face in her hands, making her next words muffled. “Stiles, I — you’re just so … and you’ll never … please?”
