Just me, Lydia.

Peaches and Cream

I wake up, groggy and with a slight hangover. "Ugh. I just want to eat Pringles and watch Netflix." I sit up and look at my phone.

63 messages from Stiles Stilinski.

"Oh my god."

64 messages from Stiles Stilinski.

I look at the text messages. They are all at least a paragraph long. I read the most recent one.

'Alrighty. Now you think I'm a total idiot for sending you 100 messages, but I am such an ass. Seriously. I don't know what came over me. It was a bad move on my behalf and I do not blame you for yelling in my face. Btw, your breath smells like peaches and cream. :). You do not need to accept my apology. At all. I feel so bad. Maybe we can go somewhere and talk? Peace out.'

I frowned. "Why can't he be meaner." I grabbed a notepad and a pen. Doodling always made me feel better. I usual just draw whatever comes to mind. And this time, I drew Stiles. Sweet, Sarcastic Stiles. The one I know so well. I mean, knew so well.

I spend a while on the drawing, and then I take a shower. I'm washing my hair when my phone rings. "Dammit." It goes to message and Stiles voice plays back to me.

"Hey. Me. Again. I-Uh. I don't know what to say. If you want to talk, just meet me at Breadsticks at 2:30. Bye."

I sigh and wash out the soap in my hair. When I'm out of the shower, I look at my phone again.

5 messages from Stiles Stilinski.

"Wow." I look at the clock. 2:00. "Wow." I open my closet. Nothing looks good. "Wow." I find a green dress and put it on, with pearl earrings. "Wow." I laugh at myself and curl my hair. 2:15.

I arrive at Breadsticks. The pack used to meet here when Scott first got bit. Every now and then I would peek in on their meetings. I knew that Scott was a werewolf before I was a banshee. Inside of the diner, I see the chairs with polka dots and red stripes. Such a flashy place. Not my type of restaurant. I see Stiles and slide into the booth. His head pops up. "Lydia!" He hugs me over the table and I hug him back, but then realize that I'm mad at him. I pull away.

"I am sooooooo sorry." I roll my eyes.

"That doesn't help, Stiles." He sighs and the waiter brings us water and leaves. "I don't get what you were thinking."

He shrugs. "I was just running out of patience. I wanted to get to know you better. And you weren't budging. I got tired." My jaw drops.

"Let me show you a science experiment." I take an ice cube out of my water and set it on the table. "See this? This is me. You're the actions around the ice cube. If you get to know me, and take your time...." The ice cube starts to melt. "I open up." I grab another ice cube. "If you start to get to know me, but then...." I start smashing my fist into the ice. "You start slamming me into the ground and breaking my heart!" I take a deep breath. "I don't open up. And it takes longer to get to know me after that. Understand?"

Stiles' eyes are wide. He nods a little. "You can slap me if you want." I furrow my eyebrows.

"Why?"

"You did last night, and it seemed to make you feel a little better." I shrug.

"Stiles, I have feelings for you." I look at him and sigh. "They are undeniable. No matter how hard I freaking try, they come flooding back. It's ridiculous. And I hate you for it. But, Stiles Stilinski, the feelings are there." His eyes shift, looking up and down, trying to avoid eye contact.

"I'm sorry that you hate me." I shrug.

"Remember, it's no big deal." I wink and he leans over the table. We kiss. And I feel everything I felt at the masquerade. At the party. At Allison's death. I feel pain, sadness, triumph, joy, and most importantly, forgiveness.

He laughs. "Peaches and cream."