Stiles Stilinski

In Bacon Hills, silence was never empty. Lee had learned to hear what others missed, but when Stiles Stilinski went silent, it broke all her instruments.

He was always noise. In recent weeks, he has become different. Too silent.

“Are you tired?” Lee asked.

They were sitting in a jeep at night near the reserve.

“I’m fine,” he said too quickly.

• You're lying. You haven't eaten chips for twenty minutes.

He grinned and suddenly became serious.

— I don’t know how to say this. I have no words.

• Then don't tell me. Show me.

Stiles turned to face her, his eyes soft in the dim light.

"I'm afraid I'll force you into my life, and the world will take advantage of it. You've already lost your sister. I have no right to risk you."

"You don't choose for me," she said quietly. "You just stay or go."

He froze.

"I'm staying. Oh my God, of course I'm staying. I'd be sitting on the roof of your house with binoculars like the most pathetic stalker."

She touched his fingers. They were trembling.

• Then drive and stop looking like I'm going to disappear.

He took her hand and didn’t let go until he got home.

They didn't kiss that night, but as Leah was going to bed, her phone blinked: "I like you. Seriously. No kidding. Okay, one joke. Sweet dreams, Leah."

She smiled into the darkness. Why did her chest feel so warm?