You Should Come With a Warning.

Chapter Twenty Three.

I apologise for the delay with this chapter! Unfortunately I've struggled with this one, not writer's block per say, more a battle with the story line. I need to make sure I know where the plot is going and -dare I say it - when this story will eventually end. Anyway, sorry again and I hope you enjoy this rather short (filler?) chapter.

"We were in love, but in all the wrong fucking moments.''

It was still dark when Lydia woke up on Sunday morning, her hair clinging to her damp cheeks and neck. It was too warm in Stiles' room, the windows shut tight against the October cold that had left a slight frost over campus. But in bed, with Stiles' shirt wrapped around her and vodka still burning through her veins, she was too hot. Her phone told her it was just past seven in the morning, which explained the unusual silence that was clinging to the apartment. She smiled at photo Kira must have placed as her wallpaper, the three of them scrunched together to fit into the frame. Allison was laughing at something she couldn't see and Lydia was squashed between her and Kira, their cheeks pressed together with smiles brighter than the violet lights that swam over them.

More memories of the night before came back to the girl and she turned in bed, the sheets gathering around her waist and her lace underwear twisting against her hips. Her hands found the cool side of the mattress, empty and not slept in. She gazed at the empty pillow for a beat, for two, before remembering stumbling into the room with Stiles only four hours earlier.

"Kitten, behave, please'', Stiles muttered, a ghost of an amused smile on his lips.

They were in the hallway of his building, their friends standing around them in various stages of drunk and disorderly. Kira was falling asleep against Allison, a little furrow between her brows as she garbled impatiently at Scott who was still trying to fit his key into the lock, for the sixth time. Allison merely giggled at her boyfriend's fumbles, choosing to observe rather than help. A red cup was still in the hand that wasn't clutching Kira, the pretty pink liquid glittering dangerously inside it. She took a sip and hiccuped.

Isaac was stumbling behind them, singing to himself as he inspected the small, ceramic elephant he seemed to have acquired. He twirled, rather gracefully for someone as intoxicated as he was, before promptly leaning against the wall and closing his eyes.
With their friend's attention so distracted - and well, limited - Lydia was taking advantage. She was leaning against Stiles who welcomed her embrace happily, her tiny little body tucked into his as she held her heels in one hand and placed the other on his waist. When Scott swore loudly and tried to open the door for the seventh time, Lydia pressed her face into Stiles chest, grinning into the soft fabric of his shirt as her fingertips danced along the edge of his jeans, warm skin coming into contact with her own. She glided over the ripples of muscle she found there, dipping her fingers into the hollows of his hipbones.

The sharp intake of breath the boy took only encouraged her and she only halted when he swore into the top of her head, the sound muffled by her tangles of curls.

"That's not behaving'', Stiles coughed out with a laugh in his throat, "not at all.''

But the girl looked up at him with magic glittering in her eyes and he felt a fire pop and fizz inside his bones. Lydia rested her chin on his chest, the top of her copper head barely reaching his shoulders as she let out a smile that she saved only for Stiles. He battled with the urge to kiss her again, right there, in front of everyone. But he crushed it back inside of him, swearing internally at it before he slammed it back into the box he'd hidden it in for months and settled for tapping her nose affectionately. She grinned up at him, freckles dancing across her cheeks, a remainder of the summer and fuelling every fantasy Stiles had ever had about her, 'cause god almighty, the girl was fucking gorgeous.