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Stiles Stilinski was a sight to behold.
He was walking down the hallway towards his locker, talking to Scott. Blue and red flannel was draped over the fitting grey tee she knew he was wearing today. Wine red jeans hugged his hips all the way down his long legs. His newly trimmed soft hair was a tousled mess on top of his head, as if he’d ran his hands through it a couple of times during his previous class.
Lydia watched as said hands waved about to emphasise a point. In her mind’s eye, she saw the same large, calloused but soft hands sliding gently down her sides and under her thighs, or cupping her cheek, the tips of his long fingers just burying in her hair.
His perfectly shaped lips formed a pout as his best friend teased him about something - Lydia knew Scott was teasing because he had a particular wide-eyed smile when he was trying to be funny. But she wasn’t dwelling on that now. Rather, her vision had tunnelled towards those lips that were still pressed together, and she yearned to feel them on her own lips. Or her skin, she wasn’t picky.
Then suddenly, the object of her fantasies slipped out of her narrowed line of sight. Lydia blinked and found Stiles bent over, arms flailing as he stumbled a few steps forward. He managed to grab onto his best friend’s arm and pulled himself up.
Lydia giggled to herself. Of course Stiles Stilinski would end up tripping right when she was oogling at him like he was a model.
Stiles huffed and shook his head, messing up his already nicely messed-up hair. Then he looked up, and his golden eyes found her jade ones. A grin spread across his face and Lydia bit her lip as she returned the expression.
She didn’t notice when her feet started moving, but soon she was stopping next to him at his locker.
“Hey you,” Stiles greeted. If he thought she had been checking him out, he thought correctly he didn’t show it.
“Hi,” Lydia breathed.
Stiles closed his locker and smiled. Then he leaned in and pecked the corner of her lips. Like the night where he was ripped from existence. And last night after he’d dropped her off at her house. And on Saturday when she visited him and his dad at the station. And the first time they went out for lunch as an official couple.
Stiles pulled back smiling. “How was class?”
“Okay,” Lydia shrugged. Advanced Statistics II wasn’t terribly boring, but it barely challenged her.
“Any homework?” Stiles asked as he fumbled with his lacrosse gear and backpack.
“All finished a week ago.”
“Right,” Stiles said. He slung his backpack over his shoulder again and pulled on the straps. “I don’t know why you even come to school anymore. If I were you, I would sleep at home all day.”
“So you’re watching practice?” Scott piped up over Stiles’ shoulder.
Lydia nodded. “It’s not like I have anything better to do.”
Stiles gaped. “Really? You never watch practice. You haven’t even been to any games since sophomore year.”
Sophomore year. When Stiles played for the first time. When he scored, and scored, and scored, and she couldn’t help cheering for him.
He remembered.
“Like I said,” Lydia told him. “I don’t have anything better to do.”
As in, she could go home and finish another online college course, but she really wanted to be with her boyfriend. Her tether. Him.
Plus, she got to check him out in his lacrosse jersey.