Stiles slammed his laptop shut as he walked over to the widow, cracking it so he could speak to Summer. “H-hey… Uh… Whatcha doing?”
She frowned even harder and climbed in the window to touch his arm. “Stiles, what’s — “
And she felt it. Burning in his bones and pulling at his control; leaping across the physical contact to her. She shoved up shields as hard and fast as she could, stumbling back and hitting her head on the window.
“Who did this to you?”
Stiles pulled back from her touch at the same time as she pulled back.
“What the hell was that?!”
Summer rubbed at the back of her head and stared at him, wide-eyed. “But — you — how did — Stiles, what the hell is going on?” Pulling her hand down, she looked at it, then back up to him. “How could you possibly have felt anything other than,” she flushed darkly, “what’s already there?”