Lydia trailed behind Stiles, weaving past crowds of drunken teens. She kept her hand on his arm, preventing her small form from being pushed away from him. The lights flashed brightly, making Lydia dizzy. A pair of brunettes pushed a blonde directly into Lydia. Her hand slid from his arm, and she tipped over.
Lydia winced at the impact of the cement floor on her rear, and shakily stood up. The blonde was on the floor nearby, her round face pressed to the ground as drunken giggles fell from her lips. Lydia glanced around the room, looking for the messy hair that belonged to Stiles. She couldn't spot him, and felt her blood pulse in panic. Her breathing rate increased, and she felt her palms get sweaty. Then, she felt a hand on her lower back and stinky breath against her neck.
"Hey, pretty girl, you from here?" A voice asked. Lydia stiffened and ignored the man, pushing him off and trying to find Stiles.
"I'm talking to you, princess. It's considered polite to answer people when they talk to you." Lydia whipped around to look at the man. He was muscular, with a deep tan and black hair that was practically dripping with gel.
"No, I'm not from around here. And I'd apreciate it if you stopped talking to me." Lydia tossed her strawberry gold curls and turned around again. She had to find Stiles, and quickly.
She felt a hand squeeze her rear, and she jumped. She whirled around, ready to punch this man in the nose, and he grabbed her wrists with his other hand. She felt herself being backed into a wall.
"Trying to play hard to get, eh?" The man said, trying to slip his hand under her skirt.
Lydia struggled. "Let go of me." She kicked her legs out. "I said let go of me!" The man then pressed his lips against her neck. Lydia began to kick harder, and tried to wiggle her wrists free.
"You look really hot when you struggle." He whispered against her neck. His fingers trailed up her thighs.
"Please stop. Please let go." Lydia begged, feeling uncomfortable heat burn behind her eyes. Her lungs seemed to constrict as she whimpered. She shut her eyes tightly, wanting to dissapear.
"Hey jackass." Lydia opened her eyes, blinking back tears. Stiles stood behind the man, his face calm, but his golden eyes were ablaze with rage. "She said let go."
The greasy man laughed. "And who are you, her boyfriend? You might think she was struggling, but you should have heard her, man, she was-"
He didn't get to finish his sentence, however, because Stiles punched the man in the jaw. His hold on Lydia released, and she kicked him between the legs. He groaned in pain. Lydia then ran to Stiles, and buried her face into his chest. His arms circled her lower back.
"C'mon, let's get you calmed down." Stiles gently led Lydia towards the bathrooms. He held open to door to the women's restroom, and, to her suprise, followed her in.
There was no one else in the bathroom. Her breathing had slowed a bit, but her heart was still pounding against her ribs. Stiles pulled her close again, and she pressed her cheek into his chest. He then lifted her up and placed her on the counter, his arms still wrapped around her. She sniffled into his chest.
"I was so scared, Stiles." He almost didn't hear her, her voice was so quiet.
"I know, it's okay."
"Please don't ever leave me alone like that again." She said. Stiles felt his heart clench. She thought he wasn't coming back for her. He pulled her even closer against his chest and pressed his lips to her hair.
"Never."
