Lydia stood in the corner of her room and assessed the situation. Her bed, desk, floor - it was all covered in clothes. For the first time in her life, she had no idea what to wear. A dress, maybe, but she didn't want to seem too girly and shallow. Jeans were too casual. A skirt? Yes. A skirt. That would do nicely. Except, what blouse to go with it, and which skirt?

Lydia knew this was about more than clothes - usually she was confident in whatever she picked. But tonight was different, because tonight, she had a date. Lydia had been sleeping with plenty of boys from school, but there'd been no real dating since Jackson. And there hadn't needed to be.

And, of course, tonight wasn't just any date. Tonight was not a distraction date. Tonight was a real date with potential. Tonight, she was going on a date with Stiles Stilinski. And oh, how she wanted him to think she looked beautiful. Her stomach churned nervously. This was such a big step for them.

They'd had a lot of big steps recently. There'd been the kiss, the fragility and tenderness of it, as she calmed him down from a panic attack. There'd been the night he stayed on the phone with her until she fell asleep, because she was still traumatised over the voices she'd heard in the motel. There'd been his declaration of his love for her, even now, even after all she'd put him through. There'd been the moment she grabbed his hand and held it, as they tried to figure out what the tree she kept drawing meant.

And then, there was the moment when he stuttered and stumbled over his words, and she stopped them with a kiss - "yes, Stiles. I'd love to go out with you." He kissed her that time, finally getting up the courage to initiate it, as if all this time he'd been worried it was a fluke, or she'd changed her mind. But how could she, when it was Stiles? Lydia didn't understand how she'd ever ignored him.

Lydia picked up her purse and headed out the door - she had three hours to find an outfit that was good enough for the boy who was far too good for her.

The restaurant was the fanciest in town, with a French name that Stiles couldn't pronounce. But, of course, Lydia could, and she ordered for them in French, accent perfect.

His mouth dropped for a second. She astounded him, that was the only way to put it. Daily, she astounded him. There was always more to her, and it was never boring. He felt as if he were watching her ice skate again, or the first time in school he glanced over at her test to see the '100' circled in red with a smiley face. She was astounding.

He so desperately wanted to impress her that he'd brought her here, at his father's suggestion. He'd saved up for this for so long, and he was thankful. She deserved something expensive, but damn.

Lydia had gone to 'freshen up' as she'd put it, and when she returned, she smiled at him coyly. "Stiles, I have a confession to make." He immediately began to fidget, worrying that this is where she tells him she's actually not interested.

Lydia grabbed his hand, pulled it onto the table and held it still. He looked up, the odd shiver running down his spine. Could she be more amazing?

"You see, this place is really nice. But it's so expensive, and it's not very you. I know you want to make me happy, but I want to enjoy myself tonight. Soooo," she drawled out the last word, nervous at his reaction. "I might have told the waiter, in French, that we were actually going to eat elsewhere. And then I might have also called the local bowling alley, booked us a lane, and ordered chicken tenders with fries and honey mustard for when we arrive."

Yes, she definitely could get more amazing. How did she know?

"I know, I know. It was really presumptuous of me. Maybe you really like this place, and I've just insulted it in front of you, haven't I?" She said quickly, trying to cover her tracks.

"No, no!" It was his turn to take her hand, and he squeezed it. "That sounds perfect. How did you - yeah, let's get out of here."

She giggled at him as he stood up in a suit that clearly didn't fit him. "Maybe we can go by yours first, so you can change? Not that you don't look handsome." He blushed, took her hand and led her to his old jeep.

They'd played four games, and would've continued if the owner hadn't kicked them out so he could close. Lydia had brought Stiles to her room, where they sat on her bed, holding hands and still laughing over the fun they'd had.

Lydia grew serious, and said, "Stiles, there's something I want you to know, about why I chose bowling."

She leaned her head into his neck, and he wrapped his arm around her, waiting for her to continue. She loved that, that he listened.

"When I was with Jackson -"

Stiles cleared his throat. "Maybe ex boyfriends aren't a great topic for a first date?" She rolled her eyes at his sarcasm, shushed him and continued.

"When I was with Jackson, I had to dumb everything down. I had to pretend to be stupid, useless, well, except for the sex." Stiles cleared his throat again.

"I've loved bowling since I was a kid, but I always pretended with him, that I wasn't very good at it, to satisfy his ego. And I never would've dared eat fries or chicken strips in front of him! No, no, it was salads and fruit, because otherwise, he'd make a comment. But with you, I wanted to start over. Because with you, I can be myself. I can eat what I want, and be as capable as I am, and you care for me anyway."

She pulled away, and kissed him, full on the lips. "I wanted to start over, and with you I think I can."

He leaned in and kissed her, caressing her jawbone with the tips of his fingers, so tender that Lydia shivered. They laid down on her bed, and he held her until they fell asleep. A perfect first date, a perfect beginning.