Me Too (completed)

Chapter three

"I'm thinking about cutting my hair."
"No you're not." He shot her down as soon as the words left her pretty little lips. She gaps at him and snatches her phone from the countertop. This was a daily basis thing. Stiles worked at a cafe off of that one street with the common name that no one really remembered and Lydia would visit him when the place wasn't busy. The boy made a mean cappuccino. His phone dinged, signaling a text.

He glared up at Lydia, texting her back immediately.

With a sigh, he eyed the practically empty cafe and picked up his pencil, beginning to draw where he had left off before. Lydia slammed the notebook closed on his hand, not hard enough to cause him any pain but he furrowed his brows at her anyway, pen sandwiched between doodles of strawberry hair. He removed his hand from the sketchbook as his friend complained about him not working and he rebutted by gesturing around at the empty cafe. A smile etched it's way across her face and he returned it while opening his book back up and continuing his sketch.

"Is someone starved for attention?" He chuckles. Now, I must warn you, what's to happen next is inevitable for someone with cappuccino making skills like Stiles. And the fact that Malia came in here every Sunday whether or not he was there (but let's just assume she comes for his cappuccino talent).
"Stiles." Though he wasn't looking, she waved.
"Can I run?" Stiles whispers to Lydia and she shakes her head no, wishing him luck under her breath as he strides over to the register.

"Hey." He sighs through his nose and slaps on a fake smile for affect. So she smiles back, but hers was genuine. His heart twitched, a spasm really, something that often happened around this girl he once loved. Studying her, he furrowed his brows.
"Is that my shirt?" He points to the flannel around her dainty waist.
"Hm?" Malia questions. Realizing what he was talking about, she blushes but, chuckles and brushes it off. "Oh gosh, you probably think I'm crazy. I didn't even realize. Here, you can have it ba–"
"No! No, keep it. it looks good on you..." And off of you, he added in his mind.

He bit his lip thinking about the long nights, the make outs between classes, secretive hand on knees under the lunch table. It's almost as though she could see his thought process, placing a hand over his where it rest on the counter.
" we're friends." She smiled as though the statement wasn't supposed to feel like an atomic bomb. Not to mention that one little touch, the brush of her fingertips against his knuckles, was anything but "just friends". Lydia noticed, fighting the urge to chew on the pencil in twiddling in her hand.

"Yeah I seem to remember that being part of the deal when you broke up with me....so..." Stiles clears his throat. "I'll just– I'll just make your," he gestures down towards Lydia where the cappuccino machine was.
"Yeah, that'd be great." She smiles as he walks away. The pencil drops out of Lydia's hand, her best friend muttering incoherently while whipping a plastic cup off of the stack and under the caffeine robot. Watching intently, Lydia forgets her own doodle in his sketchbook.

His brows furrowed, fingers twitching against the counter.
"Was that as stressful as it looked?" Because the whole while they conversed, she could practically feel the awkwardness. Stiles didn't answer, finishing off Malia's drink and quickly delivering it to her where the girl was waiting with exact change. She zipped out of there faster than he had walked back over to Lydia, sweat above is brow. And she didn't like the way he sighed.

This girl had broken his heart. Lydia had seen them through thick and thin for three years, ever since Malia moved to Beacon Hills as a sophomore. She'd never really been fond of his girlfriend but maybe that's because he was so fragile and Lydia didn't like seeing him hurt. And that's what made everything so hard; Malia was his first. First kiss, first girlfriend, first sex, first love.

First breakup.

It was the second time she'd ever seen him cry in they're whole entirety. He was embarrassed after wiping tears off cheeks for almost an hour but Lydia told him it was understandable even though she herself didn't understand. She dated and ditched guys like last years Vera Wang and didn't care much for "I love you's" or guys who said they'd take it slow when she clearly only wanted a one night stand. But her best friend was all over that romance shit. He put Malia on a pedestal, treated her right, took things as slow or fast as she wanted. And Lydia remembers the night specifically when he'd admitted to her (drunkenly, mind you) that he thought she was the one.

It came as no surprise Lydia literally wanted to hang Malia from the school rooftop by her hair when they were officially over. Instead she settled for a black eye and a broken nose. It earned her a week and a half of suspension but if you would've asked her, it was worth it.
"I checked her license plate number."
"Lyds–"
"And Isaac found out her locker combo."
"Martin." Despite the stone-like tone in his voice, Stiles was smiling. This caused her to grin as well, a sort of breathy chuckle shared between them. "I'm fine. That was like....two months ago."

He turned his sketchbook around to look at her drawing and nodded, impressed. She wasn't that bad but the only thing she really knew how to draw were trees, her plants scattered wherever they could fit on blank pages.
"Can you give me a ride to school tomorrow?" Lydia requests, handing back his pencil.
"Only if you spend the night, I don't like waiting on you in the mornings and you take longer to get ready when you're at home."
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"Hey dad." The two spoke simultaneously, arguing "jinx!" On one another while shoving each other into the Stilinski household. To outsiders, this might seem odd, but the sheriff brushed it off with a "hello" of his own (fairly used to this girl calling him her father) as the two teens bounded up the stairs. Stiles was already searching his movie collection for Harry Potter as Lydia began to raid his closet for something more comfortable than a skirt.

"I forget to ask you what you want for your birthday." Lydia peels the dress from her curves, throwing his lacrosse hoodie on in its place.
"New pencils would be nice." He mumbles, falling back on his bed as the DVD begins to play. Lydia climbs on next to him, snatching her favorite pillow from under his head and resting her strawberry locks on them in exchange.
"I got you those for Valentine's." She sighs.
"No, you got me prisma's. I need a new graphite set." He explains as she makes mental note.

This is one of the things she loved most about him. He was a talented artist and since he didn't think so, she would boast for him. Charcoals spread across his desk where math homework should be, a canvas, half finished, on his easel in the corner. On holidays, she loved to spoil him with pencils and paints and fancy pens he couldn't really afford since saving for college. In return, he'd show her his latest piece, let the girl help him paint a mural for the school, draw a rose on her arm in sharpie during class.

Stiles liked to think she was a good artist too, maybe she just needed to stray away from trees and try other things. Halfway into the movie, Lydia was already asleep. So he forgot about Hagrid, shut off the tv, threw the blankets over the two of them as Lydia grumbled when he shifted.
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Authors note:

Yes, I saw the new trailer. Yes, I cried in front of a bunch of people. Don't ask me any questions. But I want to go see my Scotty Boy😭

Comment, read, enjoy!
-Chloe