Scott has been staring longingly at a girl across the bar for two hours and forty-nine minutes. Stiles knows. He’s been keeping track.
“This is ridiculous, man,” Stiles says, not for the first time. “You’re a catch. You’re amazing. You’re perfect. Just go talk to her. I’m sure she’ll be happy if you do.”
Scott turns to him, wide-eyed. “But what if she’s not happy? What if I’m just another creep in a bar hitting on a pretty girl? I want her to know I respect her.”
“By completely ignoring her. Solid plan, Scott.”