"Remember what it feels like. All of those times in school when you see him standing down the
hall, and you cannot breathe until you're with him. Or those times in class when you– you can't
stop looking at the clock because you know that he's standing right out there waiting for you.
Don't you remember what that's like?"
"No."
"What do you mean, "no"? You've had boyfriends."
"None like that."
Lydia had never had a sweet boyfriend before him. Jackson was kind of a jackass occasionally, and all her other exes were more the friends-with-benefits type. So now, only five steps outside Calculus, she found herself at a loss of what to do.
Stiles was leaning against a row of blue-green lockers with a stack of books tucked under his arm, studying the hallway ceiling as he taps his foot. Lydia knew it was only a matter of time before he caught her in his peripheral vision.
Enough time to make a run for it?
"You're blocking the hallway!"
Lydia skittered away from her annoyed classmates but the commotion has caught her boyfriend's attention.
"Lydia!"
Dammit.
She faces Stiles with a tight smile. He's bounding over to her, eyes alight, and looking like an actual puppy dog.
God, she feels like a bitch.
She knew he would be waiting. He always was, even if he had to sprint from the other side of school to catch her between classes, carry her books to her next class, and make idle chitchat, all with that stupid, adorable face on, like he couldn't believe he was actually dating Lydia Martin.
She liked the guy. She really did. Way more than she would have expected. But she didn't know how to interact with a boyfriend like Stiles. He always listened when she talked and laughed at her jokes and was basically perfect. Not a complete pushover – they got in their fair share of arguments – but he adored her. Loved her, even.
Lydia had a real boyfriend, one that watched all her favorite movies with her – including the cheesy romantic ones – without complaint, told her she was beautiful every day, and treated her like a queen, and she didn't know what to make of it. This guy wasn't just in it to get in her pants, but because he was actually interested, and it scared Lydia to think about how much he cared, not to mention the way she felt around him (like a girl straight out of her movies). He gave her actual butterflies. Butterflies.
And he was coming her way.
He bent slightly to give her a peck, before casually taking her books and adding them to his pile. He absently took her fingers as he recounted his fiasco in English, played idly with her hair, and guided her through the halls.
Goddammit, why was he so perfect.
His hair was longer, now – he was growing it out, which she secretly loved because it was soft to thread her fingers through. His eyes were lit up and he talked animatedly, pausing at her locker to kiss her goodbye and Lydia came to the sudden conclusion that, yeah, she kind of adored him, too.