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"Body." Lydia said, walking up to the table. She took of her shirt and threw it to where Allison's and Scott's were on the floor. "Any specific pattern?" The lady asked. Lydia just shook her head, and she picked up a brush, and began painting.
Lydia dragged Allison to the dance floor. She wanted to clear her head. Filtering through the mass of people, they situated themselves in the middle of the floor. They tossed their heads in time with the music, grinding against the other bodies surrounding them. Lydia pulled her hair out of its bun, allowing it to fall over her shoulders like liquid lava.
For almost 2 hours they did this: they laughed; they danced; they drank.
Scott walked over with his hands carrying another round of drinks. Allison accepted happily, while Lydia shook her head. "I think I've had enough to drink for one night." She laughed. "Especially with classes starting in the morning."
Allison looked at her. "Come on Lyds. One more?" Lydia shook her head. "I'm just gonna go outside, get some fresh air." Scott nodded, and Lydia sqeezed through the crowds of people to the elevator.
The door opened, and Lydia found a couple inside, engrossed in eachother. Deciding not to disturb them, Lydia turned to the staircase just beside it. She pushed through the door, and began her trek down to the ground floor.
Her head banging, Lydia reached inside her bag to grab her phone. Typing the number for a taxi, her vision went cloudy and her footing was lost. Her phone flew from her hand, and she tripped, tumbling down the few remaining steps.
Landing heavily on her side, she raised her hand to rub the side of her head. "Jesus fuck." Lydia removed her hand to find it painted in blood.
Shaking her head, she placed her hand on the wall, slowly trying to get back to her feet.
"Woah. Are you alright?" Lydia didn't have time to look for who said this, before feeling herself being lifted firmly to her feet. "You should be careful. Want me to get you something for that?"
Lydia nodded, her vision still slightly blurry. She saw her phone across the hall, and stumbled across to it. Bending down to pick it up, she saw the screen had been smashed. "Shit."
She heard footsteps coming towards her. "You've got some mouth on you, princess." The nickname registered with her, and she looked to the boy, immediately filling with rage.
Those freckles.
Those golden eyes.
That motherfucking smirk.
He handed her a damp cloth, and she almost snatched it from his hands, hissing, "Thanks." He chuckled. "You're welcome." Lydia rose the cloth to her temple, and glared at the boy, and he stared right back. "You know. I'm starting to get the feeling you don't like me very much."
Lydia shrugged her shoulders, refolding the cloth. "You're not wrong." Stiles chuckled, dropping his eyes to the floor. "And why is that? I mean, if you don't mind me asking."
His eyes swam up and down Lydia's body. He admired her appearance. Her long, fair legs. Her lightly toned stomach. Her bright green eyes.
"I'm just not a fan of fuckboys." Lydia said, stealing the boys smirk. "I can see you eyeing me up, by the way." She raised her eyebrows.
Stiles blushed. "You can't blame me." He winked, and Lydia laughed. "Horny much? That proves my point." She shook her head, almost disapprovingly. "You may as well paint 'hormonal dick' on your forhead."
