Summer rolls her eyes. “One question. Fine. What classes are you taking this year?” She huffs a little, and gnaws on her lip, watching him with level green eyes. “Except last period, I know what you’re taking then.”
“Mostly stuff to help me improve with my brain, y’know?” Stiles says, being vague, but only because he knows she won’t understand the details. He taps on his temple, looking at her while he does this. He can’t help himself.
She stares at him, shocked. “You don’t have to take any Standards? That’s not fair. I still have to take maths and history.” She makes a disgusted face. “I /wanted/ to take combat arts, but nooooo. And I still have to — well,” she cuts herself off, “maybe I do still need it, after today, but I don’t think it’s fair that I have to keep taking psychic training. I want to take some fun classes.”
“Sure,” she mutters, “we’re friends, and I haven’t seen you all summer, and the only class I know you’re taking is the one we happen to have together. So catch me up.” She doesn’t bother to remind him that they’d drifted apart a little over the last couple years, and even then mostly been at-school friends anyway. It’s just not worth the effort. She knows why she doesn’t want him to leave — but why the hell is he so insistent on staying?
He blows air out of his cheeks. She was desperate to know him, but that wasn’t the thing that was bothering him. The thing that was nipping at his side was the simple fact that the other suddenly seemed so interested. It was like a desperate need had washed over her and that wondered Stiles. He looked at her curiously in the eyes, attempting not to fidget or move around like an idiot because of the fact he was slightly uncomfortable. “Well, can you narrow down on one question? That’ll help me.”
Summer rolls her eyes. “One question. Fine. What classes are you taking this year?” She huffs a little, and gnaws on her lip, watching him with level green eyes. “Except last period, I know what you’re taking then.”
“Stiles … ” she sighs. “You’re missing the point. On purpose. Fine.” She huffs and flops down on the bed again. “Tell me about you. What you like. What you’re studying. Your family.”
He was obviously missing the point so when she asks all those questions, he looks at her with interest. “But…don’t you know most of that stuff already? We’re friends, I…tell you things, y’know?”
“Sure,” she mutters, “we’re friends, and I haven’t seen you all summer, and the only class I know you’re taking is the one we happen to have together. So catch me up.” She doesn’t bother to remind him that they’d drifted apart a little over the last couple years, and even then mostly been at-school friends anyway. It’s just not worth the effort. She knows why she doesn’t want him to leave — but why the hell is he so insistent on staying?
She shrugs and flips her hand at her shelves, the bottom one of which is stacked with board and card games. “We did what I wanted already. Twice.” Eventually, she really is going to have to make him go, or at least insist on doing her homework. But … maybe not just yet.
She seems annoyed that he hasn’t picked something of his own, but it isn’t his fault. Stiles doesn’t mind all that much, especially on account of the fact that he’s never been to her house before, so he quite honestly doesn’t know what she has to offer. “I don’t really care if you pick something out, I’m easily satisfied sometimes,” Stiles says casually, smiling a little bit.
“Stiles … ” she sighs. “You’re missing the point. On purpose. Fine.” She huffs and flops down on the bed again. “Tell me about you. What you like. What you’re studying. Your family.”
She sticks her tongue out at him, and ends up winning the game because her cards are worth more than his. Staring down at the debris of the game, Summer says, “So now what?” There’s some time yet until dinner, and she feels vaguely guilty that what she wants has dominated their time together.
He purses his lips. “Dammit, you did beat me!” Honestly, Stiles doesn’t really care all that much that she’s beaten him, he’s just being a little bit dramatic. He can’t help himself, it’s something that just comes naturally to him. When she asks what he wants, he looks up at her with curious eyes.
“What do you have?”
She shrugs and flips her hand at her shelves, the bottom one of which is stacked with board and card games. “We did what I wanted already. Twice.” Eventually, she really is going to have to make him go, or at least insist on doing her homework. But … maybe not just yet.
Summer’s mom nods and withdraws, and Summer herself pushes his hand with the card down. “No,” she scolds, “that’s not how it works. You bought it, you keep it. I just get to complain.” She eyes the pile of glittering pieces on his side of the board, and his constructs and deck, and makes a pretend disgusted face. “You’re going to beat me anyway.”
She sits back and frowns busily at her cards, planning further strategy. She refuses to go down without a fight, and they can probably finish this game before dinner.
When she leaves, Stiles focuses back on Summer, his phone still in his hand. He sighs, “Oh, come on, it’s just a game. I’m practically letting you win!” He’s being dramatic, just like she is with that look of disgust on her face that’s obviously fake. Stiles would know real disgust when he saw it. “Not if I’m giving you this card I won’t.”
The two lean back a little bit, looking at their own cards and occasionally talking, attempting to finish this game to their best of their ability. Stiles likes the game, but he always finds that he doesn’t care who wins.
She sticks her tongue out at him, and ends up winning the game because her cards are worth more than his. Staring down at the debris of the game, Summer says, “So now what?” There’s some time yet until dinner, and she feels vaguely guilty that what she wants has dominated their time together.
“/I/ wanted that one,” she informs him, cheerfully vicious. “And you’re not really paying attention to the game.” She is about to add something else, something that will probably shatter the fragile peace between them, when her mom knocks on the door and puts her head in.
“Is Stiles staying for dinner?” she inquires. “You should probably let your dad know you’re still here, Stiles.”
“Do you want this one?” Stiles asks, holding it up at her as he stares at her directly in the eyes. He doesn’t really care what she wants, honestly, it’s just a game and he wants to enjoy someone that he’s friends with. He’s about to say something else before he notices that the door opens, his mom questioning on if he’s going to stay.
He reaches for his phone and nods, “I doubt he’ll worry about me, but I’ll tell him to make you feel better.” A charming grin following his words.
Summer’s mom nods and withdraws, and Summer herself pushes his hand with the card down. “No,” she scolds, “that’s not how it works. You bought it, you keep it. I just get to complain.” She eyes the pile of glittering pieces on his side of the board, and his constructs and deck, and makes a pretend disgusted face. “You’re going to beat me anyway.”
She sits back and frowns busily at her cards, planning further strategy. She refuses to go down without a fight, and they can probably finish this game before dinner.
“No, just shuffle those,” she tells him. There’s a board in the box, which she unfolds and situates on the floor, and places the special cards on it. It’s a simple game, ultimately, so she folds herself down to the board and starts explaining it to him.
It’s easier to just not think about anything but him and the game. She’s unaware of how much more often she watches him, as he studies his cards and makes his plays, instead of letting her gaze wander off to other parts of the room. He buys a card she’d wanted for her deck, and she reaches across and punches his shoulder.
“Can do,” Stiles says in this remotely cheery voice, but not too cheery to be annoying. He grabs the cards more carefully and shuffles them the best he can, hoping they see fit to what she wants. The teen finishes shuffling the thing and he hands them over to her to mix with the already shuffled pile.
Honestly, this is something to keep his hands busy, something to keep his brain busy. He doesn’t mean to dwell on the words that came out of her mouth, but they can’t possibly leave his mind. He doesn’t notice when she looks at him, when she looks around, just messing around with the cards. Then he feels her fist collide gently with his shoulder and he looks up at her with curious eyes.
“/I/ wanted that one,” she informs him, cheerfully vicious. “And you’re not really paying attention to the game.” She is about to add something else, something that will probably shatter the fragile peace between them, when her mom knocks on the door and puts her head in.
“Is Stiles staying for dinner?” she inquires. “You should probably let your dad know you’re still here, Stiles.”
Summer rips the plastic off and hands one of the wrapped decks to Stiles. “Open that up, will you? This one’s not like any other kind of card game — you’ll build your deck within the game, so it doesn’t matter which ones you see.” She strips the plastic off the other deck of cards and starts to sort through them, separating out certain groups.
Her hands still feel a little shaky, which she hopes Stiles can’t tell.
The plastic is tugged off with a loud crinkling sound, making one more sound as it drops by her side. He squints in confusion when she tells him to open it, wondering why she can’t do it herself, but he doesn’t mention that out loud. He may as well help her anyway, it’ll go faster. He tears the plastic away from what she’s handled to him before he hands the cards back to her to separate.
This isn’t so bad.
“No, just shuffle those,” she tells him. There’s a board in the box, which she unfolds and situates on the floor, and places the special cards on it. It’s a simple game, ultimately, so she folds herself down to the board and starts explaining it to him.
It’s easier to just not think about anything but him and the game. She’s unaware of how much more often she watches him, as he studies his cards and makes his plays, instead of letting her gaze wander off to other parts of the room. He buys a card she’d wanted for her deck, and she reaches across and punches his shoulder.
/That/ she can hear, but he’s trying so hard, like her, to pretend nothing’s changed. She forces a little laugh and picks the box off the shelf. “You would have to do that the whole game to make it worthwhile. This game is pretty forgiving of mistakes.” She hasn’t even taken the plastic off the box.
Sometimes he feels stupid, especially because she could probably sense his emotions if she wanted to, but he had to hide his worry for her. He didn’t exactly feel all that different from the romantic feelings she had towards him..he just felt like he had to let them sink in.
He laughs a little bit and shakes his head, “Well, hell, then it’s a good thing I make a lot of mistakes.”
Summer rips the plastic off and hands one of the wrapped decks to Stiles. “Open that up, will you? This one’s not like any other kind of card game — you’ll build your deck within the game, so it doesn’t matter which ones you see.” She strips the plastic off the other deck of cards and starts to sort through them, separating out certain groups.
Her hands still feel a little shaky, which she hopes Stiles can’t tell.
