“No, you didn’t say anything wrong.” She shakes her head, loose tendrils flying around her face. “I’m just waiting for whatever you decide to ask.” She changes Beth’s name to Dazzler, tongue sticking out the side of her mouth in concentration, and then fiddles with the end of her braid. “Seriously, you can ask me anything.”
It’s going to be something ordinary anyway; he doesn’t even have the knowledge to ask the sort of questions she might actually not want to answer. Well, ordinary by her standards — even questions about her hair or the pentacle charm she wears are pretty ordinary at this point. Although if she hears one more person on campus sing the Wicked Witch’s theme from the Wizard of Oz she might scream.
“I dunno, I’m not really the kind of person who like…stores questions up. I have this problem where I basically have no filter between my brain and my mouth, I just say what’s on my mind whenever it’s on my mind.” Stiles shrugs, his shoulders exaggerating the motion from his position. He’s looking at the end of Summer’s braid when she fusses with it with his eyebrows slowly furrowing faintly.
“…so you’ve been here in Beacon Hills a couple of years, right? Where did you live before that? I’ve always lived here, so…”
“North Carolina,” she answers. “A little tiny town in the middle of North Carolina, full of hicks and rednecks and churches. Or soldiers. Sometimes soldiers. Fort Bragg was half an hour down the road.” She combs her fingers through the red hair, sorting out tiny tangles. “I could have gone to Duke, I suppose, but I wanted to get away from all that. Away from all the expectations, you know?”
Summer looks out at the lane, gaze a little distant. “I wanted to figure out who I was, and it’s really hard to do that under all that pressure.”