Beautiful Sadness

"Do You Speak Unstable Psychopath?" - EDITED

Stiles

"So just to confirm: I have not and never will consume a baby sheep?" Isaac questions for the 40th time, his arm wrapped around his stomach protectively as we walk out of the dorm, followed closely by Scott, Allison and Lydia.

Scott and Allison had gone to get the girls a pair of fresh clothes the hour before but with the state of their hair when they reappeared it appeared the two may have connected in more ways than one over t-shirts and dresses.

"Isaac, for the last time: You ate pork, no traces of sheep." The strawberry blonde appears beside us clad in a short white dress and black thigh boots which I'm sure Isaac had already made a very detailed mental image of, her hair piled on top of her head in a long ponytail.

"So shortcake- you ready to get your ass beat at table tennis?" I ask, making a mental note to call her 'shortcake' at every available opportunity as I watch her eyebrows raise and a bemused smile play over her plump lips.

"So dickwad- you ready to stop with the short jokes?" She retorts only to be distracted by a oncoming blonde.

"I don't mean to alarm you but there seems to be a tall blonde girl running towards you and I would prepare to engage or get ready to tackle her because she doesn't seem to be slowing down." I follow the redheads eye line until I realise what or who she's talking about. Malia runs full speed towards me, her small gaggle of friends chasing after her, flattening stray daisies that litter the grass.

"Ah, shit. Good luck." Isaac laughs, grabbing Lydia's arm gently and guiding her away from the oncoming collision subtly as her smirk grows.

"Stiles baby!" The high pitch shriek echos in my brain long after it's said as I feel two pale arms wrap themselves around me, her legs following a close second. I stumble from the impact, my Nikes slipping on the dried out grass. I listen to Lydia hide a laugh in a cough as Malia plants kisses on every part of my face leaving faint lipstick marks in every crevice.

Lydia's not-so-subtle giggle backed by Allison and Isaac earns Malia's attention causing her to drop away from me and turn to face the group, a fake smile plastered on her face.

"And who are you?" She asks, focusing the question on Lydia rather than Allison as she observes Scotts arm around the smirking brunette.

Lydia's eyebrows raise at Malia's weak attempt to cover her obvious attitude with a smile and I cringe. Oh, Malia. This is a battle you don't want to fight.

The girls had a bad night.

"Lydia." The strawberry blonde replies simply, batting her long eyelashes at the frowning blonde who was quite obviously expecting some snide remark or bitchy comment.

"Well, Lydia, if I see you walking that close to Stiles again, I might have to take matters into my own hands honey. Take this as a friendly warning: back-off." Malia smirks, proud of her unneeded outburst at a complete stranger as Lydia bites her lip, waiting for the blonde to recover from her lapse of who the fuck knows before defending herself in the way I was learning only Lydia could.

The strawberry blonde turns to Isaac and nudges him in a way that was as if she wanted to keep her next words confidential.

"You're gonna have to translate for me here. I don't speak unstable psychopath." She whispers it loudly, making Malia blush to the roots of her bleached hair, her cronies mouth dropping with obvious surprise at the unexpected retaliatory quip on their queen bee.

"Malia!" A male voice breaks the girls gaze, Lydia's green orbs were filled with amusement whereas Malia's blue eyes could barely contain their loathing.
The girl turns to face a man who I presume is her dad waiting by a Aston Martin, waving her over impatiently, she waves back immediately before whirling around to face me sternly.

"I'll see you later." She orders stalking off in the direction of her poor waiting dad and his shitty spray tan.

"That's quite a girl you've got yourself there." The strawberry blonde comments through her and Allison's laughter, biting her lip as I turn to her abruptly.

"We hooked up once at Christmas and now she's planning our wedding! It's not my fault! Scott! Scotty! Tell them!" I whine, ridiculously close to stamping my foot for a six two male.

Two days.

Two girls.

And a shit-ton of drama.