𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 ❨ stiles stilinski and scott mccall ❩

𝟐. 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐤

I know what you'll say
But I promise you this

I'll always look out for you
That's what I'll do
*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

"I WANT A DISTRACTION." Was the first thing Margot James heard as she approached Lydia Martin and Allison Argent.

She did not want to be there. She thought and wrapped her arms around her chilled body; this was the last place she wanted to be.

The halls were crowded with people, and the chaos was so perfect, like a movie. There was the couple that was always making out on the left side of the hall, and about ten feet farther down, the cliquey girls. Opposite them, the cliquey jocks, and between them, the parade of band geeks with their huge instrument cases. There were the aerospace tech kids who never did anything but make paper airplanes and the fashion kids that wheeled mannequins and clothing racks down the halls. And then there was Margot, not that she fit into any of those groups.

"Is Lydia Martin really prowling the halls for her next victim before first period?" She spoke as she met the both Allison and Lydia.

"Margot!" The girl squealed before wrapping her arms around her friend.

Lydia's hair was deep hues of fierce strawberry blonde against her pale face. She walked and spoke in that high class way, yet MJ admired her gentleness. She was grateful to be friends with the girl.

"I missed you so much," Lydia snuggled in. "You are never spending another summer with Stiles ever again!"

In that moment the arms squeezed a fraction tighter and MJ breathed more slowly, her body melting into Lydias, before she pulled away with a small laugh. "Alright, alright!"

"Hey, Ali." Alison Argent hadn't changed much over her time in France. Except for her new hair cut. Her hair still remained chestnut brown, near the point of being black. However, it now lay on her shoulders like a waterfall flowing mildly; flaming as bright as a sunrise.

"Hi, Margot."

"I'm so sorry I didn't get to come pick you up last night."

"Don't worry about it, seriously.  Now, I'm glad you weren't there." Allison spoke with a grimace. "I'm more disappointed you couldn't go to France with me."

MJ stood with a hip jutted to one side, her right arm draped across her slender body, clasping the elbow opposite as she leaned against her friends locker. Her head lolled down to one shoulder casting her long hair onto the faded Prince t-shirt that was two sizes too big. It hung so low that her shorts only just peeked below the dirty hem, a fringe of denim cut-offs.