Outcasts [Book 1]

Eight

I look at you and I know just what I want

- Burn Wild, ROZES

---

When Lydia got home, she had the biggest smile on her face. This was probably the happiest she had ever been in her life, and her heart kept beating way too hard whenever her mind drifted back to Stiles.

Her heart was ruining everything she used to believe, and her brain - that was working too hard right now, in her opinion - kept telling her to stop smiling, but for once she wasn't listening to her brain.

Lydia's about to go up the stairs when she hears someone yawn. She slowly turns around, seeing her dad start to sit up on the couch. He looks tired, but kind of happy. Mr. Martin glances over at her, raising an eyebrow.

"Hey Kiddo, why are you so chipper?" He asks. Lydia shrugs a shoulder, not feeling like talking to her dad right now. "Guess its just a good day." Normally whenever she talked to her parents, it started out fine, and then ended in some sort of chaos.

He nods and lets her go up the stairs. Lydia briefly wonders what he's doing her on their couch, especially when this is the time where he finds another girl to spend his time with.

Did she miss another awkward dinner? Did Mom win some sort of award? Did Lydia win an award, crap- she can't just miss her own award ceremony, thats so shallow of her. The Martin's didn't show their shallowness. Her moms going to disown her.

Worry runs through her. She gets to her room with pursed lips and a headache, her happiness already wearing off. Seriously, Lydia thinks to herself, Mom is going to take my car, my beautiful c- "Stiles?"

Seeing him sniffling, sitting on the edge of her bed broke her. She'd hurt who ever dared make this boy cry. Fuck the car. Lydia kneels down next to him and he hugs her instantly, trying to form words around his crying.

She doesn't ask how he got in, the window is locked and theres no way her mom would let a Stilinski in the house. "I-I'm sorry, I-I d-didn't know where to go a-and- he just- its my fault." Stiles holds her tighter, and she rubs soothing circles into his back.

After about two minutes of her rocking him slightly and telling him that whatever happened, he was fine, and that it was okay, he pulls away. Stiles sniffles again and wipes the tears with the back of his hand, making Lydia grow more concerned.

"Sorry. I know you have better things to do then hang out with me." Self-pity filled his voice, and he didn't sound sure of himself as he did before. Stiles didn't talk much, but when he did it came out clear and his point was made, so the sudden self-pity dazed her for a moment.

Lydia gently grabs his wrist before he can leave again. He's always leaving her. Sure, she's dropping him off, but he never offers to stay, she's always asking him if he wants to, and normally he wants to stay with her. Lydia's going to change that, but not right now.

"Stiles, stay." She whispers, tugging him down from her windowsill. He stops in the middle of rambling about breaking the lock on her window and how she should really buy a new one. Stiles nods silently and slowly slides back into the room.

Its barely night, and she knows her dad is downstairs for some strange reason, but Stiles was just crying. What was Lydia suppose to do? Let him go? That sounds like the rational thing, yeah. Jesus, even her mind is snippy with her.

Stiles stands up straighter from his slouched position and glances around her room. Its exactly how he thought it would be. Clean, neat, a certain edge to it, with the light smell of lavender. Its Lydia. He feels like he's been staring at her room too long so he sits on the edge of her bed again, not sure where he's suppose to sit.

Its understandable how awkward Stiles is. Six years of his childhood have been ripped out of his life. Those six years are important. Those six years include, deciding you don't give a fuck, going to a semi-party, and growing up.

Stiles didn't even get to experience being a teenager yet, but like most things, she had a plan for that too.

Lydia smiles at him, noticing his awkwardness when being in her room - which is part of the high school experience too. She pulls back the covers of her bed and after him staring between her and the bed like he didn't know what to do, she pats the bed in the way she does for Prada.

Stiles seems to get it and kicks off his converse and socks, climbing into the bed carefully. Lydia climbs into the bed next to him.

They start off back to back, Stiles on one side and Lydia on the other. Stiles shifts and turns but that results in his front - where his crotch just happens to be - pressing into her back, so he scoots away a little.

After a few seconds, Lydia turns and is unaware that he had moved, making their noses touch awkwardly. They stay there, having a cliche moment. Neither has the ability to move. It would be so easy to move, its not like their stuck. One of them simply has to roll over, but neither wants to.

Lydia moves closer. The bed dips further at the weight of both of them in the same spot. Stiles offers her a small smile.

She doesn't want to be one of those people that takes advantage of someone when their emotional, and Stiles doesn't want to be one of those guys that comes to a girls house, cries, and then kisses her. Even he knows thats kind of messed up.

His hand finds her waist anyways. Stiles, getting a sudden burst of confidence, places his lips against hers softly. Lydia kisses him back, and he's never been happier, she can tell by the small, excited sound that leaves his lips when they both pull away.

Lydia rolls her eyes at his smile, kisses his nose and places her head in the dip of his chest.

A/N

Sometimes I feel like I update too much. Then I read fanfics (no hate to anyone) that haven't been updated in months upon months and realize there's no such thing as updating too much.