“Wh—?”
Crap. She’d said that out loud, hadn’t she. And he’s right /there/. Being tempting.
And now she can’t move away from him without being incredibly obvious. “Stiles,” she starts, and doesn’t know how to go on. She’s always been honest about her feelings; this is the first time she’s lied about them. She realises she doesn’t know how to /stop/ lying about it.
She starts to speak, but now he’s confused. He raises his eyebrows in her direction, curious about just what she had started to say to him.
“What?” he asks, that look still on his face as he watches her with rather interested eyes. There’s something about her in that moment that bothering him and, frankly, he could use mind control on her, but it isn’t anything like mind reading. He couldn’t figure out anything, not that he would do that to her anyway.
She doesn’t need to look at him to know the expression on his face, but she does it anyway. “I don’t want you to go,” she repeats, a little louder. “I, um, I … like you. A lot? I, I know you probably don’t … think about me like that. I haven’t looked,” she adds abruptly.
