Stiles eats the reading up. Mouth hanging open, he inches closer and closer to the table as she speaks, drawn in despite his reservations. Naturally, he interprets the reading to mean that a future with Lydia Martin (romantic, of course) is far from impossible. His cheeks heat up a bit at the word lover, though he doesn’t avert his gaze even for a second. It all makes sense to him—especially the part about his own bullshit. With no small measure of guilt, he recalls the time he’d reluctantly left Lydia sobbing alone in her car. His promise to return and comfort her had gone unfulfilled, but he doesn’t blame himself for that.

“Wait. I’m not gonna see her for months!” Floundering, he struggles to think of something else for Kenzi to read for him; this is addicting. “If you want that pizza, we should do another one. Y’know, one we can test sooner.”