Project Stilinski (completed)

12.

"I don't care if she's the most popular girl at school, she's not allowed to treat people like shit–sorry ma'am." Erica hands the woman her cappuccino, the lady rolling her eyes at the blondes offensive language. Stiles was sitting on the counter, pouring sweeteners and flavoring into different cups with a distant expression while Erica actually served the customers. When he had come in early that morning, hours before he usually got in but just a couple minutes after Erica was there and the tables all empty, there was a stillness about him. He wasn't upset, not sad nor angry but he had told Erica in a robotic voice about how he'd finally gotten the girl only to have been tricked like the fool he was. So Erica promised him the easy job today and he settled after weakly protesting.

"Seriously, Stiles. That's a bitchy thing to do and if you want I'll go to her golden castle and bulldoze her down. We can keep her in your basement by chains." The blonde suggested causing a small chuckle that she claimed as victory, despite all of the bizarre looks she was receiving.
"Thanks, Erica. Really." He was stirring vanilla syrup and whipped cream together in a cup for no reason whatsoever. The blonde shoots him a smile and a wink, joining him on the counter.

"Wanna get shit-faced tonight?" She asks, chomping on her gum now. He'd much rather have a piece of that gum.
"Nah." He declines the offer.
Erica looks down at her shoes. "You really are a good person, Stiles. Don't let that bitch change it." He smiles, thanking her again.

The bell on the coffee shops door jingles and Stiles tells the girl he would get this one. His stomach dropped at the mess of pale skin and strawberry hair sitting at the bar. He forces a swallow.
"Did you want me to–"
"No." He interrupts Erica. He could handle it. Looking at Lydia made him draw blood from biting the inside of his cheek. It was painful for her to be in his prescience. Because he remembered how she had looked sleeping into his side, how she wore his shirt so casually, how her lips felt pressed softly to his skin.

But he hated the fact that it looked as though she had slept last night, whereas he had not.

"Can I get you something to drink miss?" He sighs, letting his palms rest flat against the countertop as a chill runs down her spin. She was leaning against her elbow, itching nervously behind her ear.
"Please, Stiles. I came to apologize." She speaks quietly while glancing around at some nearby tables.
"Maybe a frozen hot chocolate? Our s'mores cappuccino is the drink of the day." He bites and Lydia shrivels in her place. She was in the fault and if she hadn't known it earlier, Stiles was making sure she knew now.

She reached tenderly for his hand and he almost allowed her to but as her fingertips brushed his, he pulled back.
"Well then?" He implied harshly that it was time for her to begin with what she had promised.
She took a deep breath, already preparing for him to reject her. "I'm sorry." She whimpers and Stiles scoffs, beginning to walk away but she calls out.

"WAIT! Wait! I know." She nods frantically as he returns, forcing a swallow. "I-I know that I screwed up and I feel like a dumb bitch for saying things that I don't mean but..." Her mouth hung, fidgeting as she thought of words to say because nothing could make up for this. Out of impulse she began looking around the room and Stiles immediately questioned it.
"Why do you keep doing that? Why do you keep looking–" he cut himself off, watching the girl he thought he once knew.

He looked down to the floor in shame. "You're still embarrassed to be seen with me." He mumbles.
Lydia turns to him quickly, realizing her mistake. "N-no I just–"
"I get it, Lyds." The nickname pierced her heart. The boy was so genuine. "I get it." He whispers. "But maybe you should've that about that before you slept with me." And with that, Stiles leaves her. She didn't even try and call after him again.
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

"Lydia?" The brunette was at her house within minutes, bounding up the stairs to the girls room. The scene broke her heart and she sets her purse on the floor. The girl was curled up against pillows and tangled in blankets with her phone laying in front of her. She was a sniffling mess with tears and little sputters of breaths. Allison didn't question it, crawling into bed next to her best friend and wrapping her arms around the girl. She glanced at her phone.

"Oh, sweetie..." Allison held her closer and Lydia began to cry again.
"He doesn't like me. He doesn't like me. I messed up." She settles deeper into her friends hold and Allison begins to brush hair from out of her face.
"He does like you. Always has. You just have to show him you're not afraid to like him back." She informs. But Lydia was afraid. She was afraid to like him because no one was as good to her as he was. And she had let that go.
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
Authors note:

IM SO TIRED AND IDEK WHAT TIME ZONE IM ON. Btw I'm pretty sure that the next chapter is probabbbbbly the last.... And if you haven't read my notifications on my account or my messages or whatever they're called, be sure to do that because they explain updating times and what novel is coming next!
Comment, read, enjoy!
-Chloe