thenogitsuneandstiles-deactivat:
Stiles was slammed against the wall, the fiery red headed girl he didn’t even know the name of smashing her lips to his. How had he ended up here? He didn’t know. He remembered being angry that Lydia had dissed him (once again) and walking into a bar, talking to a cute girl, they had danced after a few drinks…
And now he was up against a wall, their bodies pressed together, lips molding into each others and somehow, he loved it. Because he wasn’t worrying, or even caring frankly, about the other red head who had consumed him. Right now, at least, he probably wouldn’t know who she was if she walked up to him.
He grinned back at her, finishing his entire cup of coffee and setting the cup down, checking his watch, then to the half-asleep girl at the counter. “I am so not going to school tomorrow. I thought today was Saturday. Oops?”
She covered her face again and laughed until she couldn’t breathe. “Stiles. Oh, my god. Today was definitely not Saturday. I’m just glad I don’t have class til one tomorrow.”
“Have you always wanted to go to big schools?” he asked her, a smile still held on his lips.
“What does that even mean? Beacon Hills is hardly a big school. I could have gone to Stanford or something.” She rolled her eyes.