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Summary
“What day is it?” Derek demanded.
“What?”
“The day! What day is today?!” Derek let Stiles go, but only so he could reach into his pocket and pull out his phone. He tapped at the home screen, and then went so perfectly still that Stiles was pretty sure this guy wasn’t human. No human could stand that still.
When it was clear Derek wasn’t going to move again without some prompting, Stiles said, “It’s Wednesday.”
“That’s impossible,” Derek whispered.
“Not really, it comes around every seven days.”
“This is impossible,” Derek said again, looking around himself, as if he was searching for something.