They walk back towards the table, and she feels his hand slip out of hers. Lydia stares at the floor as he pushes his hands deep into his pockets and shuffles his feet.

Given that she was the one to break the spell, she's not sure why she suddenly feels a little lost.

Once he convinced her to join him on the dance floor, Stiles was shockingly smooth. His usual rambling speech quieted and his hands settled around her waist with an ease she didn't expect.

Actually, surprise seems to be the theme of the night. For as well as he reads her, she finds herself consistently and happily surprised by him.

Jackson, on the other hand, is easily predictable. At this point in the evening, he will be wasted and acting recklessly, despite the abundance of chaperones and parents in attendance.

So, as much as she finds herself enjoying her date with Stiles, her mind keeps wandering to the boy who originally stole her heart.

Stiles graciously gave her an out to search for the boy in question, and she eagerly accepted the opportunity.

But now, with the real prospect of going separate ways, she's not ready for the night to end.

Raising her gaze, she asks quietly, "Go with me?"

Surprise passes over his face and she suspects he nods before fully comprehending the question. She doubts he really wants to help her look for her ex-boyfriend, a boy who's never been kind to Stiles. Not that she can account for any better behavior.

She forces a smile before turning towards the gym doors.

As they walk outside, she glances at him under her lashes and he flashes her a goofy grin that she reciprocates despite her best intentions.

Wrapping her hands over her chilled arms, she calls out Jackson's name, searching the parking lot vainly. Stiles watches her before pulling off his jacket and offering it.

She stares at it a beat too long.

"You look cold," he explains, as if she doesn't understand the purpose of the garment.

Cautiously, she takes it, pulling it on and drowning in the oversized fabric. She stares at his frame, suddenly wondering what's beneath the starch white fabric of his dress shirt.

"You ok?"

She meets his eye, forcing a smile. "You should check the locker room."

He nods and turns, but stops mid-step when she doesn't follow.

"I'm gonna check the field," she explains.

He squints, his head tilting to the side. "I don't know if that's the best idea. It's dark and you don't know what's out there."

She stares at him with wide, unblinking eyes as she turns the phrase over in her mind. You don't know what's out there. She wonders how much he hears as the Sherriff's son.

She tries to remember a time Jackson spared a protective thought for her. She drops the line of thinking with her gaze.

"By now, Jackson's probably wasted. If we don't find him, the school will."

His brows crinkle. "That such a bad thing?" At her leveled and unamused gaze, he ducks his head with a smirk. "Yea, I'll look." He calls her name before she can walk away. "If you see anything, call me, ok?"

She nods before quickly turning and walking down the sidewalk.

Jackson, she reminds herself. Jackson is the one you're looking for.