Dylan O'Brien Imagines

Can I Have This Dance? (Part 2) // Stiles Stilinski

"You look really beautiful tonight, by the way." Stiles said bashfully, your cheeks heating under his wondrous gaze. A small smile spilled over his lips at the reaction he drew from you.

"Thanks." You said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear to keep your hands busy. With Stiles, you felt like a queen. He was the kindest, most down to earth boy you had ever met, but you felt awful hoarding his attention. Ever since he had asked you to the dance, he had been attached to your side like glue. An official label hasn't been pegged to your relationship yet, and you were glad. He hadn't even kissed you yet, and you still felt smothered and rushed.

Lydia, knowing you better than anyone, immediately detected your hesitation. You had convinced her to sit with you and your date during the dance for the night. She looked at the awestruck boy beside you. "Stiles, I'm parched. Would you mind grabbing us a couple drinks?"

"Yeah, sure." He responded, offering you and your best friend a grin. Your heart fluttered inside your chest as he gave your shoulder a quick squeeze before making his exit. "I'll be right back."

"Okay, what's wrong?" Lydia questioned once Stiles was out of earshot. Her date had ditched her the first chance he got upon arriving to the school. She wasn't too hurt over his decision, seeing as she was merely using him as arm candy. With Stiles absent from your table, it was only you and her. "You're not acting yourself, Y/N. I thought you really liked this guy?"

"I do! I—I—It's just that—" A heavy sigh brushed past your lips as you tried to compose yourself. Then, a sigh of defeat. You shook your head, voice small. "I don't know."

"You're scared to be happy, aren't you?" A sympathetic smile rose to Lydia's cherry red lips. Avoiding her eyes, you realized that some truth may resonate within her words. You heard a strong puff of breath leave her. "Y/N, you deserve to be happy. You know that, right? After everything you've been through, you of all people should get a happy ending—and I think Stiles is yours."

"You really think that?" Your stomach grew warm with pride for your adoptive sister, and you felt incredibly lucky to have a person like her in your life.

"Of course I do." She smiled, reaching across the table to pat your hand. "Everything in the past is exactly that—the past. Don't let it create a future for you; that's for you to decide."

A wide grin spread across your lips. It had always been like this; you and Lydia each working as a life coach for the other. No matter the circumstance, you always stood up for one another and had each other's backs. For a long time, Lydia was the only redeemable quality of your life. Ever since the two of you met in the third grade, you should have known how much of an impact she'd have had. It was only a matter of time until you were spending every moment together; sleepovers and playdates each weekend with countless memories made. Being in the Martin household was your therapy; your parents were hardly ever home, sending babysitter after babysitter to watch you. It had gotten to a point where your house didn't feel much like a home anymore.

After your parents had officially dropped from the face of society, the Martins took you in and claimed you as theirs. But they had already done that; now they had the paperwork to prove you belonged to them. You owed your life to the Martins, considering they had saved you in more ways than one.

"Sorry I took so long. Did you know that lines can actually form for a punch bowl?" Stiles inserted himself back into the conversation, dissipating the moment between you and Lydia. She sent a suggestive glance towards the boy and then you. Your face heated up once again, but you nonetheless allowed yourself to sneak a peek at Stiles. He was oblivious to your eyes, too focused on keeping the three drinks in his hands from spilling. Placing one in front of you and passing another to Lydia, he sat down and took a sip from his own. As he gulped back the drink, his eyebrows rose when he finally took notice of your stare. He pulled the plastic cup from his lips slowly, clearing his throat shortly. "Do I have something on my face?"