In Between || Teen Wolf

Chapter Twenty-One

Maybe some Stessa like I dunno

I don't own Teen Wolf yo

Part Two

“Stiles, what the hell are you-“ I turned to face him, completely confused, but before I could finish my question he grabbed my face in his hands and pressed his lips against mine. You know how in all those books where this happens and he “smashes his lips into mine” and she closes her eyes and sinks into the kiss and whatever? That was not this moment. Our lips did not smash together, or crash or any other form of collision. Stiles at least was sure not to miss my mouth, so he got bonus points for that.

I hadn’t been totally serious about Stiles being a bad kisser, really. But, boy, did he prove me wrong. It wasn’t like he went all out on the kiss like we’d apparently done before, but this was pretty nice. I mean, sure, my eyes were wide open in shock the whole time and I was totally unresponsive to the kiss, but it was still a good kiss.

Stiles pulled away, his hands dropping from my face and hovering awkwardly. We kind of just sat there and stared at each other, the cars behind us honking urgently and flashing their lights. Finally Stiles flipped forward in his seat, trying to get the car moving again.

A driver pressed their hand long and hard against the horn behind us, and Stiles twitched around in annoyance. “Alright!” He shouted, driving off. “We get the picture, thank you!” Stiles glared over his shoulder as he drove down the street again. We stayed silent as we pulled into the grocery store parking lot.

Stiles shut off the car and we sat in silence for a minute before getting out of the car and heading into the store. There was this weird tense silence between us, as if we both wanted to say something but we weren’t really sure what.

Honestly, all I could think about was the fact that Stiles wasn’t a bad kisser. At all. But I could not tell him that, just casually be like, “Hey, Stiles, that was actually a pretty happenin’ kiss, want to try again?”

We entered the store and grabbed a small cart, wheeling it around. I felt like we were one of those young couples, just out of college, married over the summer, making just enough for groceries and a tiny little pastel coloured house. But, alas, we were low life high school students who just kissed in a car in the middle of the road and were currently not speaking.

Stiles was watching in confusion while I felt the tomatoes and sniffed them, deciding on three of them before bagging and ditching them in the cart. He followed me around the fruits and vegetables in silence while I felt everything, sniffed everything, and packed everything.

“So are we not going to talk about what happened?” I asked, not looking up at Stiles so he could see the terrified look on my face. Did I want to handle this situation? No. I prefer the technique of avoiding my problems for as long as physically possible. Especially ones involving boys and hormonal werewolves. And hormonal boys and werewolves. And hormonal werewolf boys.

“I mean, if you want to.” Stiles replied vaguely. I glanced over my shoulder at him, seeing his splotchy blush as he messed with the tomatoes through the thin plastic bag.

“Okay…” I trailed off, dragging my finger tips lightly over the avocados, grabbing one and setting it in the cart, which Stiles was now pushing along behind me. “It was average. Proficient. Maybe even partially proficient.” I shrugged, a smirk tugging at my lips as I kept my gaze on the onions we were now passing. The little squeak of the cart wheels on the cheap linoleum stopped and I paused before dropping a couple of onions slowly, one by one into the bag.

“Proficient?” Stiles asked, his tone slightly exasperated. I could picture the look on his face, his mouth probably hanging open slightly, his pretty brown eyes blank and tired of my shit. I couldn’t blame him.