Midnight Scarlet » Stilinski

Seven

                                                           Chapter Seven

 

“You’re wearing the same clothes again? What are you― homeless?” Lydia stares down at me with her shaped eyebrow raised, designer handbag attached to her arm permanently.

            I cross my arms. “Nice to see you, too; I was actually starting to miss you,” I say sarcastically. “Now, why don’t you shut up and look at your reflection in the mirror? We both know that’s your specialty.”

            She purses her lips and ignores me. “We’re going shopping.”

            I look at her blankly, gesturing to the waiting room outside of Ms. Morell’s office. “You can go shopping. I’ll stay here, thank you very much.”

            She tugs on my arm, but quickly releases me when I just stare at the contact. “C’mon, Aubrey! Ms. Morell will understand.”

            “I’m not going anywhere with you.” I’d rather go back to the alpha pack.

            Lydia looks at me with distaste. “Don’t argue. I’m doing you a favor.”

            I pull my hood up. “I like my clothes.” Truth is, I hate my clothes― I feel like I’m drowning in them and the only upside is a hood to hide my face. I don’t get my actual clothes until Jake brings them tonight, so I only have to suffer a few more hours. Going shopping with Lydia seems like an added form of unnecessary torture.

            She taps her manicured fingers against her hip. “It’s fashion suicide.”

            I shake my head. “Still no.”

            “I’ll drive.”

            “If I was going― which I’m not― I can’t drive, so yes, you’d be correct in that statement.”

            Her eyes plead with me. “I’ll buy you new shoes.”

            I firmly shake my head. “I like my boots, so no.” Placing my notebook back into my bag, I continue, “And why the sudden interest in me? Why do you care?”

            She sighs like the answer should be obvious, and counters me with a question of her own. “You’re a Hale, right?” I nod, clearly wondering what this has to do with anything. She smiles wickedly in response. “And if you want to survive, you might want my help.”

            “You have to play the game to win,” I murmur, remembering something that Roxanne always told me. She taught me that life is just one big game; it makes you think that you’re always safe. But eventually, like all games, there has to be a winner and a loser. Death has never lost a match.

            I also know about deception; it’s a regular life lesson: never judge a book by its cover. The way Lydia’s staring at me― devilish grin, a light in her hazel eyes, and a cocky aura around her― I know she’s more complex than I think. There’s more to her than meets the eye.

            “So,” Lydia says. “Are you going shopping with me or not?”

            I’m intrigued as to what her angle is; humans are selfish and there has to be something in it for her. She’s not just helping me to be kind or to get to know me better. She’s helping me because sometime, she’ll be rewarded.