Stiles rubbed his forehead. He should have just stayed home and slept. His headache was far from gone and the weird drink he'd sampled had not improved things. He went up the stairs where it was much less crowded and tried a couple rooms of the huge house. The first one was locked, and the second should have been from what he witnessed the couple in there doing. He peered into the third one, seeing it unoccupied and slipped in, shutting the door behind him and resting his forehead on the door.
Finally. Some quiet.
"Well? Why are you just standing there? Lets get this over with" said a female voice in the room. Stiles whipped around startled. He'd thought the room was empty, with the lights off and everything, which it clearly wasn't considering there was a topless girl sitting on the bed.
Well not completely topless, she did have a bra on, thank God, but still.
Stiles swallowed nervously. "Get what over with?" What had he just walked into?
The girl got up when it was clear the other occupant in the room wasn't going to leave the door. "The dare. God. How much did you drink? I'm not lugging you over campus, if you get wasted."
"Uh," Stiles looked back at the closed door, trying out figure out how to get out of here. His head was pounding, and he could just make out her figure in the dark room. He pressed himself to the door, seeing her come closer. He glanced down at the hand resting against him and looked back up, unsure what to do. Suddenly the girl stepped back, quickly removing her hand.
"You're not Charlie," her voice sounded accusatory.
"No?"
"Oh my—!" The girl jumped away and grabbed a blanket from the bed to wrap protectively around her shoulders. Stiles expelled the air in his cheeks with relief and sagged against the door. "Why didn't you say anything?!"
Stiles held out his hand in front of him to try pacifying her. "I'm sorry. So sorry. I'm not a creep, I promise… I-I uh—" He swallowed again. "—just have a bad headache, and I was trying to—" The door opened, knocking him off balance, making him fall to the floor.
"Malia?" A boy's head poked over the slightly opened door, not noticing Stiles. "Hey, sorry. Andrea's falling all over the place. I'm taking her home. You okay on your own?"
"I'm fine. Get her home safely." The girl—Malia, waved the boy away sounding tired. When the door closed, silence enveloped them with Stiles still on the floor. He heard the sheets rustle as the girl—Malia, tucked her legs under her, shivering slightly in the chilly room.
He looked up when he heard her speak, "I feel the need to tell you, I was on a dare. I don't usually do this." Malia gestured to herself, wrapping the blanket around her tighter, like she was very aware of her lack of clothing now that she knew he was a stranger.
"Yeah. No-I-I didn't think anything of it." Stiles said awkwardly as he got up slowly and made to leave. He glanced back, seeing her shiver again.
Okay. He didn't know this girl. At all. But…
"Here," Stiles unzipped his sweatshirt leaving him in a black tee, and held it out for her.
In the dim lighting, he saw her looking at him and at the offered garment and then back at him shrewdly, like she was trying to figure out his angle. Stiles shook it at her. "Take it. I can see that you're cold." When she still didn't move, Stiles got a little impatient, and stepped up to the bed, throwing it around her shoulders.
Malia sat rigid for a couple seconds and then after seeming to be fighting an internal struggle, shrugged off the blanket, replacing it quickly with the sweatshirt around her shoulders. "Thanks."
Stiles nodded, looking away when she'd dropped her blanket. He felt kind of odd looming in front of her, "Can I just sit here for a bit? My head still hurts. I wasn't even going to drink, but someone passed me something at the door and I—" He cut himself off, glancing back when he thought she'd be done changing. Malia nodded so he took a seat beside her on the bed, but left enough personal space between them.
"Won't you be cold? It's windy tonight." Malia said as she slowly slipped her arms in the sleeves, tucking her chin into the fleece.
"No. I'm actually pretty hot." He thought about his word choice, and made a face. "I mean like, I'm warm. That drink is probably kicking in, whatever it was." Stiles was careful to look in front of him while answering—it was just weird seeing a girl wear something of his. It seemed like she felt just as awkward.
"So you know Jason?" Malia asked referring to the guy whose party they were at. Stiles nodded, not sure if she saw or not, "Can I leave your shirt with him?"
"Yeah, that works."
"That's good."
"Good." Stiles gave her a sideways glance. Malia had half of her face tucked into the sweatshirt, and her eyes were closed. The corner of his mouth turned up slightly. She was kinda cute. Not like how she looked, because he couldn't see much of that, but like the way she was trying to cuddle into the warm fleece lining.
"What?" Her voice came out slightly muffled and defensive, "Your laundry detergent smells nice."
"I didn't say anything," Stiles' smile grew bigger. He turned back to the front, folding his arms on his thighs as he leaned forward. The silence between them after that was almost comfortable.
Stiles stood up after a while. "Uh. I'm going to head out. See you around." He said as a parting, catching Malia wave with a smile of her own, before closing the door.
He was probably never going to see her again, but oh well. He made his way through the crowded house and sprinted home in a way to combat the chilly night. His last thought as he went to bed, was Malia sitting there on the bed, like a woodsy creature huddled in the cold. Sort of an odd thought, but it made him smile.
