He's been here for all of twenty minutes and Stiles is ready to rescind his acceptance of admission. These kids are horrible. There's no other word for it.
There's a group of six future fraternity douches, already discussing where the kegger is happening tonight. And, seriously, are they that stupid? Talking about underage drinking right in front of the RA?
There's another guy leaning against the wall, clearly stoned out of his freaking mind. Stiles can't even blame him, not really. If Stiles had known how terrible this orientation was going to be and how horrible the other students are, he may have made his first foray into discovering the joys of marijuana just to deal with this shit.
A boy and a girl are standing a couple feet away from him, making out and groping each other. He's close enough to share in their experience. Hell, he can see the strings of spit that connect their mouths when they pull away briefly for air. Why can't people keep off each other in public?
A few girls are standing to his left, obviously whispering about him. He doesn't think they are even trying to be discreet, their stares are so obvious. He sees one of them point at his star wars folder, the rest of them starting to laugh, but fuck them because Star Wars is cool and anyone who doesn't agree –
"I like your folder," a tall and hot boy says to him.
Stiles wonders when the hell the kid got there. Stiles hadn't even heard anyone walk near him. Then the boy's words register and Stiles is sure he is being fucked with. He wonders which little bitch decided to put this hot guy up to complimenting Stiles's nerd gear. But the kid isn't laughing and is giving Stiles a strange look as if Stiles is the one doing something abnormal here when – oh. He never responded. He was complimented and he said nothing.
"Oh, uh, thanks," Stiles stammers out, lifting the folder in an unnecessary gesture. "It's Star Wars."
Stiles hates himself. He truly does. Everyone fucking knows what Star Wars is. The folder has Darth Vader on it for fuck's sake.
The boy laughs though and Stiles just melts.
"I'm Isaac," the boy says with a grin.
"Stiles."
Stiles also hates his dad in this moment. Why would he ever let Claudia convince him that naming their son something so horrendous would be okay? And now he's stuck with fucking Stiles for a nickname and dear lord why couldn't he have a normal name?
"Stiles. I like it," Isaac tells him, still grinning.
"We're going to start off this orientation the right way by getting to know each other!" the RA tells them enthusiastically.
Stiles would rather die than play another god awful icebreaker game. He thought that bullshit ended back in high school. Even then he found it completely stupid, though, honestly. He sees Isaac rolls his eyes and suddenly he has the most brilliant idea.
"Hey, you wanna bail?" Stiles asks him, smiling mischievously.
"On orientation?"
"Yeah. We can go scope the place out by ourselves. Unless you prefer the company of these lovely people?"
Isaac takes a glance around, turns back to Stiles and nods emphatically, desperate to escape. The two of them manage to sneak off without drawing any attention to themselves, save for a couple of the girls who had been mocking Stiles earlier.
And after a long day of exploration, Isaac pushes Stiles up against the brick wall of the library and connects their mouths in a less than chaste kiss. As their tongues slide together and Isaac presses up against him, Stiles can't help but think that maybe he's misjudged the sanctity of public make out sessions.