The Wild Side | Stiles Stilinski | One

33 - Not Enough

"So, I was thinking you, Scott and I should all hang out tomorrow. Have like a movie marathon or something. Try and get some sort of normality back in our lives."

Stiles and I were sitting across from each other in the cafeteria. Scott seemed to be taking a lifetime on the lunch line, an increasingly frequent habit of his. I'd called him out on it once or twice, but he would simply deny it and continue smirking. Best I could guess, he'd suddenly decided the best thing he could do for me was to leave me alone with Stiles for as long as possible.

So far, his tactic had little effect. Stiles and I were free to talk more about non-werewolf things, which meant we were almost always talking about Lydia. Ever since she and Jackson had broken up, it seemed like I couldn't have a single conversation with Stiles without him mentioning her, staring at her over my shoulder, or retreating into himself to daydream about her. That was usually the point where Scott swooped in, changing the subject back to werewolves and what we were supposed to do about Derek and Peter. We'd already exhausted the subject, and it wasn't exactly enjoyable, but I was grateful for any kind of subject change.

Despite the less than satisfactory results, Scott continued to leave us alone, listening in on our conversations and watching from afar, as he was clearly doing now.

"No can do," I replied to Stiles's offer. "I'm going shopping with Allison and Lydia tomorrow."

"Dress shopping?" he guessed, perking up.

"Nope. Well, not really. Lydia's got some very complex, four-tier system for dress shopping. Technically we've been dress shopping for over a month. We're not buying anything tomorrow, just window shopping."

"Any idea what you're gonna get?" he asked, stuffing about six French fries in his mouth simultaneously. I shook my head, both in disgust and answer.

"Eh, not really. Lydia thinks I look good in purple, but I'm not so sure about you."

Stiles glared at me playfully, choosing to respond by throwing a bit of fry at my face. I giggled, scrunching up my face and waving my arms as I tried to shield myself. Stiles smirked triumphantly, and I quickly averted my eyes.

"Anyway, I have a feeling it's not gonna be up to me. Lydia will probably decide her own dress first and then find me something that doesn't clash."

"Green," Stiles said without hesitation. As always, his eyes slid past me to the place Allison and Lydia were eating. "You should tell her to wear green. It makes her hair look really nice."

"I know, Stiles," I grumbled moodily. "I think that's probably the fourth time you've suggested it."

Stiles's eyes snapped back to me. He sat up a little straighter, offering me a sheepish apology. I shrugged, looking down at my food instead of accepting, but he took that as a dismissal anyway. And still, I wasn't off the hook.

"It's just weird, you know?" he said wistfully. "Like...I think about her all the time, daydreams and stuff, but when I get back to reality...I don't know. It was like I could just look at her and Jackson and snap out of it. Like, 'she's never gonna notice you while she's with Jackson,' but...now she's not."

His eyes strayed past me again, watching my best friend with a pitiful, longing expression that made me feel like someone was wringing all the contents out of my stomach. And he was still going.

"I just can't stop thinking that—maybe now that she knows who I am, I could be the one to help her, to show her that she's so much better than Jackson, that she deserves so much more. And I can't keep that little bit of hope down, you know?"

I didn't respond. I watched him, my eyes trailing over the pale skin, the scattered moles, parted lips and deep, desperate eyes pining for Lydia Martin.