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.
Stiles resisted the urge to choke. He was trying not to think of Lydia because he’d get all gloomy, and now he was reminded that he was seemingly never going to get Lydia’s attention. “Yes, because I’ve only been kissed four times in my life. One time being my dearest mother on the cheek.”
She lifted her eyebrows at him. “You’re doing better than I did. I didn’t have my first kiss until I got to college.”
“Seriously? You seemed pretty skilled at it.” He lightly chuckled, taking yet another sip of his coffee. He already seemed more awake than before.
Summer sucked in a breath and let it out in a hitched sigh. “I got a lot of practise for a couple months. It’s been a while, I’m glad for the compliment. I could stand to practise some more.” She grinned at him over the rim of her cup.