Nothing More Than Neighbors || Stydia [COMPLETED]

Chatper 3: Boxes

"Lydia, get work clothes on." My mom said as I sat on my bed with my head at the end and feet up on the headboard. I quickly changed positions so I was sitting cross crossed on the edge of my bed.

"Why would I do that?" I asked throwing some sass into my sentence.

"Sherif Stilinski want us to help him set up for the party and decorate, since that's basically my side job." She said throwing the same amount of sass back at me. I narrowed my eyes before muttering a "fine." and changing into leggings.

"But it's just going to be you moving boxes with his son, we have to go get the food and decorations." 

I groaned and shut my door.

{**}

I looked up at the house before walking up the steps and knocking. I heard barking and someone crash into a box or two. A shirtless and sweaty Stiles opened the door. I closed my suddenly open mouth and he ran his hands through his hair to smooth it down.

"You're helping, right?" He asked breathless, and I nodded. His chest stood out, he has muscles but the kind that didn't come from working out at the gym, the ones that develop from labor and hard work. He had a very lightly defined 6 pack and his v-line just --

"Stop checking me out and help me move these fucking boxes." Stiles said with a smirk, snapping me out of my thoughts and making me blush deeply before squeezing my small figure past his.

His dog greeted me and I embraced it with open arms. It was a golden retriever who was about half the size of a full grown one.

"Down, Doug, down." He said picking Doug up off of me and placing him on the ground, to which he immediately threw himself on me again.

"Doug --" I cut Stiles off.

"Shut up and let me love your dog." I said as I scratched him behind the ears. He licked the side of my face and his tail wagged wildly. I pushed him away slightly before standing up and brushing the dog hair off. I looked up to see Stiles looking down towards my body and raking his eyes over it. I couldn't help the heat that crept to my cheeks.

"Stop checking me out and help me move these fucking boxes." I said, copying Stiles' previous statement. He stuttered out a nonsense sentence and opened a box with utensils and dishes in it. I opened be box next to it, which had framed pictures in it. One was Stiles as a young boy, his arms wrapped around a young man in a Sherrif outfit and woman who resembled Stiles -- with the same nose, eyes, and mouth, who was laughing a laugh that looked like it would be contagious. I smiled down at the picture before I heard shifting and shuffling.

I felt Stiles presence behind me, I shivered as his arms brushed against my skin and took the frame into his own hands. His body was pressed against the back of mine slightly and I was having trouble calming my heart down. Thank god Scott isn't here to hear that happen.

"That's my mom. She died from an untreatable form of dementia. She was amazing." He said. His breath warmed the back of my neck as he talked and I shuddered.

"I'm so sorry. I had no idea." I said as I tried to close up the box, he stopped my hands and re-opened it.

"I would rather you do it than me, just leave them on the table ... my dad will put them where he feels comfortable." He said and dropped the picture back into the box. He backed up and my heart began slowing down.

"So, how was your first day of practice?" I asked trying to clear the awkward air.

"It was fun. Everyone's really nice and it made everything better that I had a friend on the team ... and that you were there supporting me. By the way, I could hear your scream from miles away." He said and I giggled as I nodded.