𝐒𝐓𝐘𝐃𝐈𝐀 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐒

Heated Arguments

au- stiles says something that he didn't mean

WARNING: THIS GETS REALLY DEEP AND DEPRESSING AND THERE ARE SIGNS OF PHYSICAL HARM AND IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO THAT KIND OF STUFF THEN I SUGGEST YOU DO NOT READ THIS CHAPTER.

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The thumping bass of the rhythm surely didn't help the grasping headache that formed in Lydia's head. It was bone crushing against her skull, and she felt sick to her stomach as she gulped down another beer despite the pain. If anything, she wanted to numb it as quickly as she could. She never really went to parties, and if this is what they were like- drunk teenagers dancing and spilling and making out, ground vibrating music, and her boyfriend flirting with some plastic bimbo- then yes, she hated them. Despised them dearly.

She watched from afar, sitting on a stool in the kitchen with a beer bottle cooled against her hot lips while he was sitting in the living room with friends, with her nearly sitting on his lap and stroking his thigh. Oh, the nerve this bitch had frightened Lydia, but she knew better than to go over there.

It isn't about if Lydia trusts the girl, it's about if she trusts Stiles. She needed to trust him to tell her off and say he has a girlfriend-

which looks like it hasn't been said yet due to the manicured hand resting on his inner thigh.

Lydia was seeing red by now, but she didn't move from her sniping spot. She wanted to let Stiles figure this out on his own instead of Lydia being the bad guy here. She needed to see that she could trust him, and right now, it seemed really hard to try because he wasn't doing anything to defend the fact that he has a girlfriend.

That should be me, she thought bitterly, gulping down the rest of the beer with one swig. It didn't even burn in her throat like it should. By now; everything hurt, and no extra pain could be noticed because of her thoughts only thinking about Stiles...her Stiles.

Five minutes later and he was laughing with her, flirting with a girl he barely knew. Maybe it was the drinking, but Lydia knew that Stiles was honest to god against drinking after his dad was in rehab. Lydia would know that- not some brunette bimbo sitting on her man's lap.

She was pretty, very pretty, but she looked tough and intense. She had a certain glimmer to her that screamed DANGER and SLUT, but Lydia didn't say anything. Honestly, the girl- who's name was Malia- was taller than Stiles and much more buff looking. If she chopped her hair off and sat next to Stiles on the couch, Lydia would mistaken her for a guy because she had that type of look. Lydia was somewhat envious, as well. Whenever Lydia would touch Stiles like that in public, he'd slowly take her hands away and whisper a quiet protest, and Lydia would obey. But he didn't seem to have a problem with her hand raping his fucking thigh.

Lydia shouldn't be worrying about her boyfriend being friendly with someone else. She shouldn't even think about her man with another woman, because she should feel like she's the only girl in his world, and right now, she felt like a piece of paper that was floating around in the wind while Stiles was the ground. She felt weightless.

But she felt more like a paper being shoved through the shredder when Malia kissed his cheeks, and he didn't stop her.

Instead, Lydia saw him blush and gently shae his head, saying words that were inaudible from where Lydia was sitting. But he was trying not to smile which really made Lydia want to punch not just Malia, but Stiles too.

Before anyone could see a tear fall from her cheek, because no one sees Lydia Martin cry, she rushed outside past Malia and Stiles and stood along the mini sidewalk that lead to the front door.