"please, just let me help you"
"why should i? everyone i know either dies or thinks i'm a total freak show"
Georgia Ray is a social outcast. Nobody bothers to spare her a second glance, unless it's to roll their eyes or scoff. Living alone w...
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STILES STILLINSKI WAS RATHER quite used to feeling awkward. He felt it all the time, especially around girls. Especially around Georgia. Stiles never knew what to say or how to act or how to function, really.
As he stood beside her at Jackson Whitmore's party, hands shoved in his pockets, he kept glancing at the girl beside him. She had one arm wrapped around herself while the other was propped up to hold a red solo cup in her hand. Stiles was startled when she had filled it up with alcohol, although he wasn't sure how strong it was.
"Is there a slug on my face?" Georgia abruptly turned to face him, brows raised. Stiles flinched slightly, then trying to regain his cool quickly.
"No, no slug," he responded, pretending like that was a normal question.
"Then stop staring at me like there is," Georgia said before taking a long drink out of her cup. When she lowered it, Stiles saw it was empty. Instead of staring (apparently not as subtlety as he though it was) he chose to look out at the party scene.
Teens were everywhere, dancing and drinking or just standing around talking. He even saw Scott out there dancing with Allison. Sadly, he also saw Jackson pressing Lydia against the wall and kissing her. Georgia could tell it upset him to see Lydia and her boyfriend.
For some reason, Georgia wanted to cheer him up.
"Do you want any alcohol?" she asked dumbly.
"Nah, I'm good," Stiles rocked back and forth on his heels, "I have to drive anyways."
"Right, sorry," she shook her head and squinted, feeling stupid for asking. She forgot he would in fact be driving, "Do you wanna dance since—"
Georgia didn't get to complete her sentence when her flip phone started ringing from her pocket. She pursed her lips and pulled it out, both her and Stiles seeing the contact name.
giver of the chores
"I gotta take this," she excused herself, walking out the front door where it was much quieter.
"Yo," she answered.
"Where are you?" Nate asked from the other side of the phone.
"I'm out with Colton," Georgia lied out of habit.
"Really? Cause Stillinski says your with his son, Stiles," Nate caught her for the first time. Georgia managed not to panic right away.
"Yeah, he gave me a ride to Jackson Whitmore's party where we met up with Colton," Georgia knew he wouldn't care if she was at a party, and regretted not saying that to begin with.
Nate sighed loudly through the phone, and she imagined he was rubbing his face like he always did before saying something adult-like, "Okay, just don't drink too much and don't get behind the wheel if you do. Call me if you need a ride and. . . Oh, yeah, make responsible decisions."
