Infinitesimal

Chapter 5

This is also unedited, sorry.

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Lydia and Kira's shared room had been turned into a mess of different outfits, each sluttier than the next. Makeup replaced the space on the desk where large books previously were, various lipstick shades and concealer that Malia swore was absolutely necessary.

Lydia sat on the bed awkwardly, watching Kira twirl around in a black dress and Malia in a red one. She hadn't picked a dress beforehand, and most of the skirts and dresses she had weren't, well... they weren't a child's size.

She usually wore things that covered her body rather than exposed it. That was what clothes were for, after all. Malia claimed otherwise.

"It's good to finally see you out of that beanie." Malia comments. She drags her fingers through the damp strawberry blonde - almost red now from the water - strands of hair, surprised at how different Lydia looks without that stupid hat on. A smile spread across her face that was now officially scaring the hell out of Lydia.

"I think I can do something with this." Malia says.

Kira throws a faux frightened look towards Lydia, who responds jokingly with an equal amount of fear. Seriously though, Malia looks like the devil in her tight red dress and with the insane smile she has. No one would be surprised if horns popped out of her head and she sentenced them all to eternal damnation.

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The club is exactly how clubs should be. It's the type of thing you see in the movies, a rowdy crowd of intoxicated guys and drunk girls willing to run their asses on anyone's thrusting crouch. The name is in Spanish, something that Lydia roughly translates to 'the devil of'. It's not that she isn't fluent in the language, it's that it's just hard to figure out the words when Malia is digging her nails into Lydia's wrist, dragging the unexcited girls along with her.

Even when they were lost in the crowd Malia still don't not let go of Kira or Lydia. It was surprising how fast Malia moved when she was on a mission - especially since she was in heels. Lydia, on the other hand, nearly fell on her face a dozen times while being dragged around. She spilled a drink on a couple who she was sure was in the middle of filming a porno, and didn't even have time to apologize with the pace they were going at.

Though, Lydia isn't sure an apology was due because the drink spilled on the random girl's breasts and her dancing - most likely sex - partner gawked instead of freaking out over the wasted drink.

Malia located the bar, pushing people down as if she were an angry linebacker and finally let go of Kira and Lydia, if only to slam her hands down on the counter for intimidation. When Lydia's fingers brushed over her wrist tentatively, she noticed they were already red and sore. Wasn't aware Malia takes steroids, she thought to herself.

"Bartender!" Malia yells over the music. The speakers are blaring a fast-paced beat that makes the walls vibrate and communication almost impossible, but Malia manages.

Lydia wonders how all of these other couples had managed to have conversations that are leading to sex with the music like this. Had they just found each other in the darkness, two potentially sad souls reaching out for the warmth and pleasure of another? Did the girl prefer him to have his eyes on her backside rather than her face because she had bathed in makeup, yet it still smeared and she still felt insecure when a gaze would fall on her?

She shook her head to clear her thoughts. Lydia was overthinking this, it was just a hook up. If she wanted to have a one night stand or have a bit of fun - sexual or not - before life was taken away from her, she needed to stop thinking. Which was obviously easier said than done.

The bartender shuffles over to the side of the bar they're standing by, looking frightened by Malia's rude tone and the wild expression on her face. He shifts from foot to foot uncomfortably, and Lydia squints to see the name Derek on the tag on his shirt.

"What would you like to dr-" The words die in his throat as Malia yells at him again.

"Where's Stiles?" She asks. The bartender, Derek, winces at how she addresses him. Malia's being rude as per usual, but the screaming is unnecessary. If only Lydia had the confidence to lean forward and tell her acquaintance - still undecided wether their friends or not - to call down.

"Are you another one of his crazed ex girlfriends? Because I don't want to get my ass kicked by one of them again, and Stiles has told me not to let any of the - uh, as he put it - insane bitches near him." Derek explains, running a hand through his hair nervously. It seems to occur to Derek that he has other customers waiting for a drink because he starts making some sort of cocktail.

"Wether or not I'm an insane bitch is to be determined. I'm not his ex, though." Malia responds.

Lydia rolls her eyes at the ground. It doesn't take that long to determine wether or not she's an insane bitch, in fact Lydia had decided that within a few hours of meeting Malia.

"H-He's in the back room, but that's for employees only." Derek explains. He hands the cocktail he had been making to a tall blonde standing next to Kira, then continues to start mixing more drinks.

"His show is starting soon." Derek goes on. "I'm sure he'll be around. Only on stage for about a half hour, though. I'm sure you can catch him after his, uh, performance."

They order shots, which Kira surprisingly drinks most of. Lydia downs more than usual, if only to numb the throbbing in her head the music's bringing her and the irritating smell of the place. Malia says she's going to wait outside the club to wait for Scott and Isaac - the late motherfuckers, Malia mutters, probably stopped to make out on the ride here - and leaves Lydia and Kira inside.

Lydia and Kira dance a little bit but end up retreating to the safety of the bar to slurp down piña coladas and chat about everything that's been going on lately, which isn't much.

"Hey." Lydia interrupts Kira's rambling when something occurs to her. "Did you know what Derek meant when he said that Stiles' show was happening soon?"

"Oh? You didn't know?" The other girl questions uneasily. A faint blush spreads across Kira's cheeks and she nibbles on the plastic straw swirling around in her empty cup.

"Stiles is a stripper."

A/N

If any kids are reading this: the next few chapters may be a little, ahem, dirty. Brace yourselves.

For the rest of you: YEAAHHH STILES IS GONNA STRIP, BRACE YOURSELVES!!

*cough* sorry for objectifying ur body Dylan.