During my free periods when usually the boys are in practice, I find myself drawn to crowded places, eager to observe the diverse tapestry of humanity. Today, I accompanied them to the lacrosse practice, I sat on the sidelines, with a sketchbook in hand.
As I scanned the area, my gaze landed upon Stiles. I felt an inexplicable urge to capture his likeness in my sketchbook. His lovely eyes were the first feature I drew, one delicate line at a time, until I had created something strikingly similar to his own. I moved on to his lips, his majestic lips that I adored watching curl into a smile.
My glances at him may have lingered too long, and I found myself caught staring. Stiles waved at me, and I was struck with a sudden bout of embarrassment. I returned the wave and quickly gathered my belongings before making a hasty retreat.
I walked home alone, lost in thought, retracing familiar steps without Stiles' usual company. I didn't want him to know the depth of my emotions, not now at least. I couldn't bear the thought of confessing my feelings while he was still wrapped up in his love for Lydia.
As I neared my front door, I found myself yearning for an outlet for the tumult of emotions roiling inside me. I settled at my desk, taking up a pen and paper, and began to write. My words flowed effortlessly, guided by a force beyond my control, providing a measure of comfort and clarity in their wake.
As evening fell, I finally laid down my pen and surrendered to the embrace of sleep, my mind at last at peace with the thoughts that had plagued me throughout the day.
......................................................................
In the cloaked embrace of night, I was abruptly awakened by the persistent ringing of my laptop. As I stumbled to my desk, I answered the call from Stiles, my heart pounding with a mixture of curiosity and dread.
Stiles' face filled the screen, his eyes darting around as he frantically brandished a plastic toy gun that emitted a feeble red glow. 'Hello, Nyxie,' he greeted me, a hint of amusement lacing his tone.
'Hey, Stiles, what's up?' I asked, quickly brushing a hand through my tangled hair.
A troubled expression washed over Stiles' face. 'Good... not good. Actually, not good at all. Scott tried to...' He paused, his gaze searching. 'Where is Scott? Isn't he home by now?'
I jumped to my feet and cautiously opened my door. My mother's voice drifted from the hallway as she chatted with someone. A surge of relief flooded me. 'He's here, just talking with Mom. Is everything okay?'
'Okay, so, basically, he tried to kill me at practice,' Stiles blurted out.
Shock coursed through my veins. 'Wha-what? I was there most of the time!'
'Yeah, I know. After you left, I think. Which reminds me, why did you leave early?'
My heart pounded in my chest. I couldn't tell him the truth. 'I was tired from yesterday. I wanted to sleep. Sorry for not telling you.'
'Oh, okay. So, yeah, apparently he tried to kill me...' Stiles' voice trailed off as a knock sounded on my door. It was my mother.
'Hey, honey. Sorry about the late shift again. Food's in the fridge. If you need anything, call me,' she said with a warm smile.
'Okay, thanks, Mom.'
'Bye, Nyx. Bye, Stiles,' she waved cheerfully.
'Hello and goodbye, Melissa,' Stiles replied. 'Here you go, Scott.'
Scott finally appeared on the screen, his face etched with exhaustion.
'What did you find out?' I asked, unable to contain my curiosity.
