Something about this summer might actually ruin Stiles and he's sure it's because of Isaac Lahey.
Summer meant a seven hour drive in a small vehicle with his father: a tradition they never passed up. They left their home town of Beacon hills for nearly three months, heading down to the coast where their beach home awaited patiently. Stiles' friends hadn't always attended but Noah Stilinski had become a little more lenient on the "family only" rule when he realized that their family was exclusively only the two of them and ran out of things to talk about quickly. The topic usually revolved around school and how Stiles was avoiding it. Anyway, his son enjoyed these long hot months better with his friends. Their beach house once belonged to Stiles' grandparents, on his mother's side, and once they had died, it then belonged to the Stilinski's and would continue to be passed down the line until the beach front house was only nails and wooden planks. Stiles swore one day he'd just live there forever.
This month in particular marked the end of their junior year and the beginning of their final journey through high school. It was a last hooray, freedom tugging their ears forward. Scott cursed under himself up in the front seat, causing Stiles' eyes to drift from the movie he'd been sharing with Isaac on his phone. The boys in the backseat had brought other means of entertainment; Isaac had an old game boy and a Rubik's cube he hadn't even touched. Stiles always downloaded a few movies and brought a backpack full of books. Scott had textbooks. He's studied hard to get into a private university and is expected to get his acceptance letter early as long as he maintains a perfect 4.0 gpa during his senior year. He marks numerous pages in his book with sticky tabs and mutters a name under his breath that makes Stiles' ribs hurt.
"Lydia better know half of this shit."
And she would, Stiles told himself. The girl was only a year younger than them but, was wise enough to be three years ahead. Scott had always been a little jealous of how easy school had come for her. Lydia, the fiery little girl who lived three houses down from his beach house all year round. Except a few years ago, Lydia wasn't a little girl anymore. Stiles clearly remembered, at the age of fourteen, when his friend was someone to no longer throw sand at; a young woman who hand acquired certain developments. She was still the same girl, he had no doubt, especially when he made jokes that she deemed sexist and ultimately scolded him for. But curves replaced what had once been skin that was straight as a board and he found himself tripping over his own tongue a little too much. Two days before he had to leave to go home for school, he had made Lydia his first kiss. And she was his summer fling ever since.
Stiles nudged Isaac awake as they finally pulled into the driveway and as soon as the car was parked, he leapt out of the vehicle and sprinted down the road. Three houses down, the one with the blue door specifically, and he had shouted her name as loud as he could the whole run there so she knew to be waiting for him. And sure enough, she was grinning at the end of her driveway, arms open for him to jump into. It was always as though time never passed, as if the school year hadn't existed and there was only here and now and Lydia. She was already murmuring into his ear that the carnival was in town. He hummed, practically tasting the cotton candy on her tongue and he couldn't wait to throw her back into the ocean.
"You colored your hair?" He was still trying to catch his breath from the run, sighing and gulping in oxygen a little desperately.
She shrugged, smiling. He hadn't changed a bit but, there was always something new about her: a new language she had learned, a new hair color, a new moral but never a new Lydia entirely. "It's just a few blonde streaks."
"And you lost weight, are you eating alright?"
"I'm eating," she giggled, "I took up Yoga."
"Very zen." He joked and threw his arm across her shoulders, leading them back down the road to his house. There was no need to go back inside and tell her parents where she would be, the Martins had heard her name just as clearly as she had.
They were grinning, holding hands, already lovesick and laughing when they made their way up Stiles' own driveway, where everyone was gathering their belongings slowly from the car. Isaac threw Stiles his duffel bag before quickly diverting all attention to introducing himself to Lydia. She kept in mind all the wild stories Stiles had told her about this curly haired boy. But despite what she had heard, he seemed sweet: a wide smile and blues eyes and there was no hesitation when he stooped down to hug her. And if she always thought Stiles was tall, Isaac was gigantic. Scott hugged her as well, already bombarding her with pre-calculus equations which made her chuckle. But she answered without hesitation, no need to even look at the work he was doing.
Mr. Stilinski was the last to say hello when he came out of the house to grab more things from the car. He eyed the girl warily and gave her a small nod before asking how her mother was. Lydia's smile dipped slightly but she knew the question only held good intentions.
"Fine, thank you." She murmured. Stiles was quick to tug her into the household.
"Ignore him," He muttered to the strawberry blonde, "he's got a stick up his ass because I brought Isaac." Lydia nodded as if she understood, though it didn't quite make sense to her. She had heard Isaac was trouble but, really? He was that bad?
As the mismatched family got settled inside, popping open suitcases and running down the halls to each other's rooms like it was a game of tag, it didn't take long for bathing suits and suntan lotion to cover them like armor, as if the ocean was a battle. Lydia's bikini was already hidden underneath the shorts and shirt she was wearing and she didn't hesitate in the slightest to strip the clothes away and run down to the beach like she was one of the boys. They treated her so, throwing her around in the water and chucking clumps of sand in her direction. And though the group was all nearly eighteen, they played games like truth or dare as if they were seven only yesterday. Mr. Stilinski wasn't as young and settled for watching them while sitting in his favorite lawn chair, reading a book with a cracked spine and water logged pages. When Stiles sprinted to the house and came back with a few pails and tiny plastic shovels, the sheriff laughed openly and even cackled when they built their castle too close to the waves. They watched their creation be swept away for a few minutes before starting another one farther back.
"It should have a moat and a draw bridge." Isaac gasped.
Lydia leapt up instantly, offering to find a sturdy piece of drift wood and Stiles trailed after her to help.
"Do you have string?" Scott called after his best friend.
Stiles shrugged, "It'll just be a normal bridge then!"
He caught Lydia by the waist before she could get too far, whispered even though they weren't close enough for anyone to hear and a grin lifted her cheeks as they mischievously eyed his father now sleeping in the fold out chair. The sun was setting and their energy faded along with it and neither of his friends questioned where the pair was going when Stiles took Lydia's hand in his own and led her away from the shore. Across the warm but cooling sand, into the air conditioned house that made their damp bodies shiver, and into his bedroom where bathing suits weren't needed to have a little fun.
"Remind me why we can't talk in the off-season?" She asked and he grinned at what she'd called it, as if summer was their main event and school was just a passing period before they were running around on the beach again. His swim trunks were flung over the foot board of his bed, her bikini was creating a puddle on the wood floor and he wasn't sure he minded the sand they were surely leaving between his sheets.
"Because you're summer's darling." He mumbled into her ear. Kisses landed on new freckles and freshly tanned skin, tasting roughly like sunblock and sweat and the ocean. Lydia told Stiles that she liked Isaac and was glad to finally meet him after all the ridiculous stories she had heard about the nuisance. He smiled and said he was glad to hear it though the statement troubled him. No one, not even him, should ever like Isaac wholly as a person.
Then, reluctantly putting their swimsuits back on, they raced back to the ocean with laughter and tackled each other into the sand and Isaac made a dirty comment under his breath about a girl from two summers ago that caused Stiles to smack him hard upside the head. Only he had heard it and he was glad at that because the name Malia was not one Lydia should ever learn. Malia Tate was a sun soaked goddess and an irresistible mess who wore her shorts a few sizes smaller than what they were meant to be and didn't give a damn about anyone who did give a damn. She was also the cause for Isaac's bad reputation, the reason he didn't return to the Stilinski's beach front vacation home for two entire years. Young Lahey's debut at the vacation home happened when both boys were only sixteen. It was the summer Scott had to visit family upstate with his mother and Lydia had vacationed somewhere in Europe.
It was the summer that Stiles and Isaac had shared Malia Tate.
As horrible as that may sound, but naive boys of sixteen rarely knew how to treat a girl as more than an object. Stiles had no idea how the curly haired boy had discovered her and he certainly couldn't remember how it all happened but his father wasn't particularly happy to find the three of them squished together in Stiles' bed one afternoon. Summer ended early that year.
"She still comes round." Stiles had whispered to Isaac on their drive to the summer house, when Scott was still submerged in studying and the music was loud enough to hide secrets.
Isaac snickered, "really?"
Stiles nodded, "dunno why 'cause Lydia's back so what's the point"
They laughed rudely like it was a naughty inside joke they hadn't heard in years. The boys giggled like school girls about what the brunette in question looked like now and sighed with dirty imaginations, wondering if she was still capable of doing what she had done for them.
"What does she show up for?" Isaac asked though he basically knew the answer.
Stiles shrugged, "for a while it was to help her little sister sell Girl Scout cookies and Dad would by a box just to get her off the front porch. But when he stopped answering the door and I did, she'd make awkward conversation and try to ask about you."
"Real shit?"
"Real. Shit. And when She left her number for me a few times, I never called."
"Because Lydia was back?"
"Because Lydia was back." He confirmed.
Isaac snickered, "does she know?"
No: Lydia definitely did not know about the summer of Malia Tate. And Stiles intended to keep it that way. Despite the conversation they'd had in the car, Stiles knew better now. Talking dirty about a girl was an act he kept up exclusively for Isaac. Now, a little more mature, all he wanted was date nights and slow kisses and Lydia. Sex was nice; summer was better and it's darling girl was a poison Stiles was all too willing to take.
He walked Lydia home once it got dark, like he always did, because, "werewolves are real, Lydia, I swear!"
She laughs and he grins at how beautiful the sunset has made her and he chants "darling darling darling" under his breath when there's nothing else to say. When they're finally standing at the end of her driveway, she promises to stop by tomorrow and they loop pinky's to make it a swear. And it's only the first day of his vacation but Stiles is sure he wants it all to last forever.