Outcasts [Book 1]

Seven

Stiles plops down on the sand next to everyone with a beer in his hand. He glances around several times for Lydia, but doesn't see her. No one else seems to be panicking, so he just assumes that she went to the van to get something.

He focuses his attention on Isaac humping the air like he's a stripper. Normally everyone would be disgusted, but they're all acting drunk right now.

Isaac starts doing the sprinkler while Scott starts making weird beat-boxing noises in the background. Stiles feels hands wrap around his waist from behind him. When he looks, she's grinning at him.

She glances over at Isaac and wrinkles up her nose. She leaves for like five minutes and it turns into a fucking strip tease. Stiles chuckles quietly and leans into her the tiniest bit.

"Their dorks." Lydia shakes her head at them. Stiles nods in agreement. "Come on." Lydia gets up and holds her hand out to Stiles. He takes it and gets up too. "Do you really think we should ditch them when their drunk?" He asks, tilting his head.

Lydia rolls her eyes, about to tell him that they can't get drunk but stops herself.

Lydia's going to tell him, just not today. "Trust me, Stiles, they have a very high tolerance for alcohol. Plus, it is ditch day." She reassures him. He wants to tell her that now, since its 12:12 am, that ditch day is over.

Lydia steals Kira's camera while she flirts with Scott. He glances at Isaac humping the ground uncertainly but nods and follows Lydia. The only person that notices them going is Allison, but she's not going to stop them.

Lydia leads him down the beach, stepping in wet sand and dry sand as she goes. Stiles smiles and twirls her every few minutes, having no idea where they're going. Eventually, they reach a small fence and Lydia climbs it with ease while he stumbles behind her, nearly falling on his face for the third time that day.

Her heart warms at his clumsiness. She likes knowing all of his little quirks, she likes knowing him in general. His hand is bigger than hers and its warm, her whole body is warm. Lydia blames it on the sun, but its definitely because of Stiles. Behind the small, wooden fence, theres a field with tall brown grass.

He has no clue what they're doing here. Its getting dark, and for a moment he wonders if something bad is about to happen, but she seems pretty sure of herself, as always. Lydia sits down in the grass, pulling him down with her.

The grass goes over their heads, swallowing them. If anyone were to come over here, they wouldn't be able to see them. Theres small white flowers surrounding them. He thinks that this is nice, but he doesn't think that this is why they walked half a mile.

Stiles raises his eyebrows and turns to Lydia. She's not paying attention to him, her head tilted up at the night sky. Stiles stares at her for a moment.

Her hair is air-drying, her hands picking at some dead grass under her, and her eyes are sparkling in wonder for the whole world. Stiles takes the camera and snaps a photo of her, definitely going to keep that.

She glances at him out of the corner of her eye and smirks. Lydia nods upwards, it only takes him a moment to realize what she means.

Stiles does as he's told and looks up. In big, white, chunky letters in the sky, 'Marry me Cindy' is written. Stiles has no idea who Cindy is, and neither does she, but she wonders if their as happy as they are right now.

She wonders if Cindy said yes, and if they're going to have kids, and if Cindy and whoever asked her is normal, or if their life is just as messed up as hers is.

He sighs quietly and pulls her on top of him so she can rest on his chest. Lydia pries her eyes away from the writing in the sky to roll on her stomach and look at him. Well, his eyes actually. His eyes aren't distant anymore, their focused on her. She doesn't say anything, 'cause she has no words right now.

She doesn't know why the skywriting meant so much to her, or why she wanted to sit and look at his eyes all night, all she knew was that he's here. With her. And yeah, the fear is still there, but its faded, and being here with him feels great.

Stiles trails his finger down the side of her body in a loving way. Lydia smiles as he does, shivering when his finger brushes over bare skin for just a moment. "Can we talk?" Stiles asks her. Lydia nods, her smile not fading.

"About what?" Lydia questions quietly. His finger carefully brushes over the small scars she still had from the dance when everything went wrong.

Her smile doesn't fade though, 'cause his doesn't either. Stiles leans down and pecks her forehead lightly, running his finger over the scar again. He does it oh-so carefully, as if she'd break like glass under his touch. "How'd it happen?" Stiles asks her quietly. Lydia would tell him if she could.

About Jackson being an ass and Peter being an even bigger asshole and Allison threatening to shove things in places that they shouldn't be shoved. She wanted to tell him about Scott trying to save everyone and Allison's dad threatening literally everyone.

About Derek being evil and trying to poison her, how Erica came in and tried to take her popularity and she slapped her - which wasn't a good idea, slapping a hormonal werewolf never is - about Isaac googling everything about banshees and about Meredith, the nogistune possessing Scott, and Malia and the time her leg almost got caught off.

She even wanted to tell him about all the times she almost died, but didn't, obviously.

Lydia couldn't lie to him though. "It happened at a school formal." Is all that leaves her lips. Her hand comes up to run it through his damp, chestnut hair. Stiles stares at her, his eyebrows raised and his head tilted.

"What?" Lydia questions. "Are you going to tell me the full story one day?" He asks. She nods and kisses his forehead too.

Stiles sighs. "Okay, so tell me something different, like.... What were you like when you were 15?"  He seemed to be asking all the questions she didn't want to be asked, but in this very sweet, loving way.

She laughs lightly at 15 year old Lydia, who was hung up on Jackson, popularity, and being perfect all time. "I was kind of perfect, actually."

Stiles laughs with her. "I thought you were going to be modest." He comments. Lydia shrugs and kisses the tip of his nose. She noticed that both their kisses were going lower. Forehead, nose, lips, maybe a little lower...

"Yeah well, 15 Year Old Lydia wasn't modest all. She was flawless and knew it. Maybe a little too perfect, actually."

He nods, finding everything she says interesting. "Tell me everything." He never got to be someone he didn't like only to grow out of it, he still didn't like himself, and Lydia didn't like herself, she was just more okay with it now. Stiles still thought she was flawless though, always will.

"I had this boyfriend-"

"I hate him already."

Lydia moves closer to him and he kisses her nose. She grins and kisses his upper lip, making him whine at the fact that she hadn't kissed his actual lips. She rolls her eyes at him and pats his chest lightly. "His name was Jackson, and he was perfect too. Athletic, smug, a total jerk...."

A/N

I've already decided, there's going to be a book 2. Sadly, it's not going to have these same characters- well it is, but they won't have met yet and will have different personalities. There might even be a book 3.

All I know so far (I don't want to give much away) is that Stiles will be bullied and tormented, while Lydia's going to be a former drug addict.

Sounds so depressing now that I write it...