let me love you {2} - stiles stilinski

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I stirred in bed, not being able to fall asleep. Stiles was over, talking to Scott. It has to be at least 2am, and we had the PSATs in the morning, and we can't skip them. Not being able to fall asleep anyways, I swing my legs over the bed and open my door. I walk down the hallway a few steps and make it to the doorway of my brothers room. The boys were sitting on floor facing each other. The had a cassette player on the floor along with a red Nike duffel bag between them.

I open my mouth, attempting to say something, but nothing comes out. "Um, there's a lot of questions circulating my head right now." The boys look at each other then back to me. "What's in the bag?"

Scott couldn't form words so Stiles answered. "Just, um, Garrett's stuff, from his locker. We were looking for any clues, for anything."

I knew he was lying. I can tell when anyone is lying, and Stiles is twice as easy to figure out. Although I didn't want to say anything about it, I was just going to let it be. "And the cassette player?"

Stiles looks at the player. "It- it was in his locker."

I look at Scott's alarm clock. 2:30am. "Are you staying the night? We actually have to go to school now, we take the PSATs because we're juniors now. Just stay here, it will be better. I'll make you a bed." Stiles stands and follows me down the hallway.

The tension was definitely there, but I chose to ignore it for the better. We've been fighting almost every time we've talked, and it wasn't fun. 

"So Myla," Stiles starts. I quickly turn towards him.

"Stop. We don't need to talk Stiles. I don't want to fight, not tonight." I cut in.

Stiles sighs. "I don't want to fight either. I want to talk." Stiles pauses. "About us. Can we talk, privately?"

I look down at my feet. I was wearing a pair of short, baggy blue shorts, with an oversized grey shirt. My dark brown hair was in a messy bun, parts of it falling out. I open the door to my room and Stiles steps in. He sits on the foot of my bed and I sit next to him.

"Look Myla, I'm trying to make this thing with Malia work, but I don't know if I can. You are getting in the way." Stiles explains.

"Me?" I defend. "How am I in your way?" I raise my voice slightly, but lower it quickly so we don't start a fight.

"Yes, you." Stiles runs his hand through his black hair. He was wearing his usual, jeans, shirt, and flannel. "Your bright blue eyes, that now have a tint of purple, your dark brown hair that bounces when you walk, your smile that lights up everything, and your snarky comments even, how they remind me of how it used to be between us. Myla, you are making it hard for me to move on."

Move on? He wants to move on from me? "Sorry, let me just change myself really quick so you can be with Malia."

"I like Malia! I like her a lot! I just need you to understand that." Stiles raises his voice but brings it back down. "Can you just stop picking on Malia and I? Please?"

Without knowing, a few tears fall. I sniffle and stand up, walking to the head of my bed. I lay down and cover up, my back against Stiles. More tears silently fall while Stiles stood up. For some reason, all I wanted was for him to apologize and hug me, and all I wanted was him to stay, but he couldn't, for he wants Malia. Not me.

I wore something comfortable, including some black leggings and a longer gray crop top. My hair was brushed nicely down, simple and straight.

"Fingerprint here." The man running the PSAT directs. I push my thumb into the ink pad and press down in the corner of the paper. The man smiles politely and hands me my tear packet as I walk over to Lydia's mom, Ms. Martin, who is our biology teacher. She directs me to put my phone in the same envelope as my brother's and points to my seat.