Comfortably numb | Stydia fanfiction

Chapter 3

Lydia finds Jackson standing near the entrance to the cafeteria with Danny and a couple other guys from the Lacrosse team. Here goes nothing. She thinks, fluffing up her hair, and straightening her skirt, as she approaches the group.

"Hey Lydia," Danny says, giving the redhead a casual wave.

"Hi Danny," Lydia replies cordially.

The other two guys mumble their hellos. Jackson barely acknowledges her presence.

"I need to talk to you," Lydia tells her ex, pointedly ignoring the catcalls of the crowd, as she tugs Jackson into an empty classroom.

Jackson leans against the teacher's desk, arms folded across his chest, looking bored. "You wanted to talk to me, so talk," he says.

There's something different about Jackson, since the last time they were together. I mean, sure, the guy has never exactly been what you would call Mister Emotional. But lately, he just seems so cold and dark. And his eyes, which used to exude smugness and confidence, now appear almost vacant, as if he's looking right through her.

Not like Stiles' eyes. She thinks to herself, banishing the thought as quickly as it enters her mind.

"I just want you to know that I forgive you," she says solemnly, holding her hands behind her back to keep them from shaking.

"You forgive me," Jackson parrots tonelessly.

"Yes . . . I forgive you . . . for dumping me . . . for trying to hook up with Allison . . . for all those awful things you said to me, after the accident. I forgive you for kissing me at Scott's house, and then leaving me there alone to wonder what I did wrong. I forgive all of it," Lydia concludes.

She's blinking rapidly again. She wonders if Jackson notices, or cares . . .

Jackson ponders this for a moment, silently. "OK," he says finally.

"OK?" Lydia asks incredulously. An actual apology would have been nice. She thinks to herself.

"Is that all you wanted to tell me?" Jackson inquires coldly.

There's a voice in Lydia's head that's telling her to "Run! Get out of there, now!"

It's Stiles' voice. (No . . . really, it's actually Stiles' voice, because the minute he saw her enter that empty classroom with Jackson, he hid behind the door to listen, and make sure Lydia was OK. But, under the circumstances, surely you can understand why Lydia assumed the voice was coming from her own head.)

Either way, she ignored it. "No, that's not all . . . I also wanted to tell you that . . . I think we should date again."

"NO! OWWW!" (That was the sound of Stiles kicking the door in frustration, and it flying back to hit him in the face.)

"Sure," answered Jackson.

"What?" Lydia asked.

"We'll date again," specified Jackson, with about as much excitement as he would say, "I have to go to the bathroom."

"Oh . . . OK," replied Lydia, her brow furrowed in confusion. "Great."

"Great," repeated Jackson.

Figuring that she should probably do something to cement this decision, Lydia walked over to Jackson and gently kissed him on the cheek. When she did, she could have sworn she heard a strange hissing sound coming from his throat . . . like a man who'd swallowed a lizard . . . or a kanaima.

Nah. She thinks to herself. Those are crazy thoughts. And I'm NOT crazy.

But still, she suddenly couldn't wait to get out of that room.