"Oh my God. That's him."
Mia stopped looking out the window of the coffee shop long enough to notice the incessant chatter behind her cease. Despite being one herself, she could never understand teenage girls and their fixation on all things stupid. And then their need to congregate in places like coffee shops to discuss these stupid things. What the fuck are galaxy pants anyways?
All three girls—a blonde, a brunette, and a redhead—sitting at the table behind her went deathly still. They had arrived at the coffee shop several minutes after Mia did and for some unknown reason, bypassed all the other available seats and plopped down directly behind her. Mia wasn't the expert on unspoken social norms, but she could have sworn the "one-urinal buffer zone" rule applied to fairly empty coffee shops as well. She'd barely paid them any mind at first, only taking note of their hair colors as they breezed by her. There may have been a few lame jokes rolling around in Mia's head about that setup. At the moment, one of them sounded like they choked on their drink. Probably the blonde. Mia cut her eyes to the front of the shop.
And 'Oh my God' suddenly echoed in her own head. In all her years of existence, Mia would be hard pressed to describe a complete stranger as simply beautiful. A complete male stranger as beautiful. Sure, there's the ever popular handsome, hot, cute, sexy—pretty, even.
This fucker though, he was all of it and none of it at the same time.
"It should be illegal to be that gorgeous." Choking girl said hoarsely. Mia took in the guy's slightly rugged appearance with widened eyes. Yes, gorgeous was going to be added to that list as well.
"Th-th-that's Derek Hale?!" Another one barely managed to get out. "Lydia, I need to borrow your lip gloss or something. I look like shit right now!"
"Firstly, ew. I don't share my make-up. And second, you look fine Allison. He's not even looking in our direction. You're fairly new to the scene, but you'll understand soon enough. Derek never looks in anyone's direction." There may or may not have been a trace of bitterness at the end of her statement. Mia was too busy cataloging every detail about the stranger—Derek—to be entirely sure. There was a lot to take in.
There was a bunch of rustling going on behind her now. Things being clicked open, shut, and possibly sprayed. Mia was tempted to look over her shoulder at the girls, but she already felt like a nosy bastard as it was. Her eavesdropping wasn't intentional. And they weren't exactly quiet with their running commentary. She'd actually managed to block out their white noise rather successfully all morning, until he showed up. Now, she couldn't help her hungry curiosity.
Apparently, the local Adonis was about to be a senior at Beacon Hills High at the conclusion of summer vacation. He lives with his uncle Peter and he may or may not be loaded beyond belief. The girls didn't sound sure about his net worth, but they were certain about a few other things. His star status on the lacrosse field, his cold indifference to virtually everyone, and how he only regularly spoke to three individuals at their school. All of this information was being fed to one of the girls, Allison, by the other two in rapid succession.
While they were talking, Mia continued to observe their topic of discussion standing by the front counter of the shop. Her mind traced the hard lines of his muscular frame, classified the color of his hair as jet black, and committed a litany of other minor features to memory. Including the tick in his stupidly chiseled jaw.
Mia pursed her lips and quietly sipped her caramel macchiato, keeping her elbows on the table and giant mug close to her face. It was a poor attempt at shielding herself, while her eyes roamed over him. She tried her hardest to remain objective with the information she was being unknowingly handed. Teenage gossip hardly counts as solid evidence when surmising the nature of a person. Actually, it was complete garbage more often than not. Mia would know. She'd heard what her former classmates used to say about her.
The dark reminder was enough to tear her eyes away from Derek and look back out the large window instead. Unfortunately, it didn't necessarily stop her from hearing the three girls discuss Derek in further detail. Like his totally sweet ride. And how his ass looks when he runs across the field. Apparently, it's something to behold. Mia concentrated on the sidewalk pavement across the street and did not look to confirm that last statement. They discussed his aversion for a certain ex by the name of Kate, who graduated two years ago. How she hurt him. How she ruined him. At this statement, Mia's eyes slowly inched their way back to Derek again. He was no longer standing at the counter, but sitting a good six tables in front of her. He was facing her direction with a to-go cup of coffee in front of him and fiddling with his cell phone, seemingly texting someone. He seemed…tense. His brows were furrowed and the tick in his jaw more pronounced. His fingers weren't moving anymore, but his eyes never left his phone. Mia told herself to quit being a creep. People can usually sense when they're being watched. She lowered her cup onto the table and stared at the contents inside of it instead.
"Well if he's not on the market, then tell me he has an equally hot brother or something," Allison said. There was a beat of silence amongst the other two girls.
"Sure, if you're into necrophilia." The blonde deadpanned.
"Seriously, Erica?" Lydia admonished. Mia could practically hear both girls rolling their eyes at each other. "Ignore her, Allison."
"Hey, the woman asked a question. I'm doing her a service by putting her fantasy out of its misery," Erica stated. "Allison, sweetie, remember how we said he lives with his uncle? That's because his entire family died two years ago." Mia's grip on her mug tightened and heart clenched. "It made the news and everything. Something about a house fire caused by faulty electrical wiring. Some people have other theories."
"Jesus. Are you serious? That's…horrible." Pause. "So no hot brothers then?" Allison asked. Yeah, Mia decided she'd heard enough. She reached for her long-forgotten book off the table and rose to leave. Her uncle Alan had given it to her to read over and "study". It was a transparent attempt at getting her to leave the house, so she decided to entertain him and visit the only coffee shop in town. She made a note to try the library next time. When Mia turned to push her chair in, she snuck a look at the three girls. Each one was pretty in her own way. Maybe if she was deaf, she'd find them attractive.
With her leather bound book in hand, she made her way towards the doors. She trained her eyes on the ground as she walked, trying not to give in to the temptation of looking at Derek as she passed him. Just when she thought it was safe to look up, Mia found herself colliding with another patron coming in to the shop.
"Oh shit! I'm so sorr—" Mia froze when warm hands clung to her shoulders to stop her from falling backwards. He was several inches taller, lean-muscled, and had gravity defying hair. Per usual, her brain automatically began cataloging everything. Smatter of moles on pale skin. Dark lashes encasing surprised whiskey-brown eyes. Gaping mouth lined by petal-pink lips. Really soft looking lips. Lips that were currently moving.
"Whoa! Hey, it's ok." He laughed out. "You alright?"
Mia just blinked at him. After another second, her brain kicked back into gear and demanded she use her words.
"Yeah." she whispered. Clearing her throat, "Um, sorry again." He removed his hands once Mia stood straight again. A flicker of disappointment flashed across her face at the loss of his touch and, wow, Mia wanted to punch herself for that train of thought.
"No worries. At least you didn't accidentally douse me with burning coffee. Cause then I would have been reduced to tears and screams. Very manly tears and screams, of course." The corner of his mouth twitched up. Mia tried and failed at hiding her grin.
"Of course," she parroted. Her eyes flickered to his briefly, noting the muted flecks of gold around the irises, and the way they seemed to be dancing across her own face. He wore a curious expression, probably trying to recall a nonexistent memory of her in a town where everyone knew everyone. Before he could ask her anything, a voice drifted over in their direction.
"Stiles. You're late." Mia watched as the boy's eyes snapped to look at something—or rather someone—over her shoulder. She didn't have to turn around to know it was Derek. She wanted to, but she didn't. Instead, she began to make her way around the boy's frame to reach for the door. A flailing hand beat her to the handle and held the door open for her instead. She looked at him, Stiles, with a small appreciative smile and made her exit. She'd only made it a few yards outside before she heard him call out to her.
"Hey! You dropped something." Mia turned around and pushed her ink-black hair out of her face to see the boy better. He twitched his wrist back and forth, waving her uncle's book in his hand. Shit. How did she not realize she dropped the damn thing? Okay, so maybe Stiles was a bit more distracting than she cared to admit. Still, this level of carelessness was completely foreign to her. Frustrated with herself, she wordlessly walked back towards him. He was scanning the cover when she snatched it out of his hands. It was rude, but Mia only acted out of instinct. He didn't seem affected though.
"Thanks. Again." She added. When she looked back up at Stiles, his brows slowly furrowed and lips began to purse. His light-hearted curious expression from earlier seemed to have morphed into something more serious.
"You're Deaton's niece, aren't you?" He asked. Mia stiffened, dread pooling in the pit of her stomach. She clenched the book in her arm closer to her chest. The urge to immobilize him and wipe his memory of her flashed across her mind. But there were witnesses. The barista, the girls, Derek…she'd have to repeat the process with all of them. It wouldn't be hard, just tricky. Get him back in the shop, lock the door, immobilize, erase, repeat... Before she could strategize any further, Stiles was speaking to her again.
"Sorry," He stumbled out, sensing her sudden discomfort. "It's just that new faces are hard to miss in a small town like this. Plus my best friend works at the clinic with your uncle. Doc sort of mentioned he had a relative in town last time I picked Scott up after his shift."
Mia deflated in relief. If Uncle Alan shared the information, then perhaps she didn't have to make him forget her. Mia didn't understand why that pleased her so much.
"Yeah, I am." She nodded. "Uh, it's been a while since the last time I've seen him. Figured now's a good time as any to visit." It was mostly true. Stiles accepted it nonetheless. There was a beat of silence between the two, before the boy jerked his hand out to Mia.
"I'm Stiles Stilinski, by the way. I know, weird. It's a nickname that's far more forgiving to pronounce than my real name. I probably should have led with that first instead of sounding like a total stalker." Mia hesitated for a second before she slowly lifted her own and clasped hands with the strange boy. It had been a long time since she willingly made physical contact with anyone outside of her family. Yet, here she was. Touching another human for the second time in less than five minutes. Mia stared at their joined hands. His was significantly larger, warmer, paler than her own, but the sight of it wrapped around hers…it was nice. Foreign, but nice.
"Stiles," she repeated, liking the feel of saying it outside of her head. She lifted her eyes away from their connected hands and back at his now smiling face. "I'm Mia. Mia Ataro." His eyes were dancing again, making their rounds to each one of her facial features. Mia prayed her russet complexion hid the blush that was surely creeping across her cheeks and up her ears.
"Stiles!" Both teens dropped their hands and looked back inside the coffee shop at an impatient looking Derek. His upper body was turned slightly in their direction, a scowl marring his face. "I don't have all day," he seethed. His glare flicked over in Mia's direction before he turned his back on them.
"Rude," Stiles muttered. He sighed and faced Mia again. "Forgive the heathen. Social skills aren't exactly his forte. Coming from me, that's saying something." Mia huffed out a quiet laugh and shook her head.
"Nothing to forgive. Don't keep your friend waiting any longer." Mia began to walk backwards. "Thanks again, Stiles."
"See you around?" he asked. Mia shrugged and smiled.
"Maybe." Hopefully, she thought. She turned around and began walking forward. Somehow, she could still feel his eyes on her. The sensation would usually put her on edge, but for whatever reason, it only made her smile that much harder.
"STILE—"
"OH MY GOD I HEARD YOU ALREADY!"
Mia ducked her head down and tried to stifle her laughter. When she peeked over her shoulder, the coffee shop door that Stiles was originally holding open with his body had just closed. Guess he'd finally decided to quit testing his friend's patience and join him inside. Mia made her way to her car sitting in the tiny parking lot beside the building that housed the coffee shop and a few other businesses. It was a simple thing, her car. A cherry red, 2-door Honda Civic LX that she affectionately referred to as 'Vicki'. When it came into view, Mia refrained from cooing at her. It was her baby, sue her. She also took in some of the other cars that occupied the lot. Two in particular stood out—a blue monstrosity of a jeep and a sleek, panty decimating, black Camaro parked side by side. The latter had to be Derek's. Mia rolled her eyes. Go figure, his car has to be stupidly attractive too, Mia mentally snarked. Perhaps there was some truth in the gossip she overheard earlier. As Mia reached her car and slid into the front seat, she recalled the frosty glare he spared in her direction, the impatience, the tense demeanor. It wasn't that much of a stretch to believe he wasn't enthusiastic at the idea of letting a lot of people into his space. If he only let a select few in, then perhaps Stiles was one of them.
Stiles and Derek. Had Mia not just witnessed their interactions with her own two eyes, she would have called bullshit on their friendship. Actually, she was still reluctant to call whatever they had a friendship. Fond annoyance, perhaps. Then again, her experience with friendship was somewhere between laughable and nonexistent. Mia started up the car and made her way out of the parking lot. During her drive to her uncle's home, she kept replaying her entire experience at the shop. She sifted through every new face, voice, menu item, and object that left their mark in her seemingly endless memory bank. Her mind lingered on Stiles, almost caressing the mental image.
She pulled into the driveway and parked the car. Mia made no moves to leave even after she cut the engine off. Her thoughts were still wrapped around the brown-eyed boy and the feel of his hands. Mia looked down at her own hands in her lap. Using her left pointer finger, she carefully traced the palm of her right hand. If her older sister, Eli, knew what she was doing right now she'd probably keel over in shock and laughter. Her siblings were convinced she was going to die a sexless old maid. They even had a running bet trying to figure out her sexuality. Much to their chagrin, Mia never confirmed nor denied any of their assumptions. Truth be told, Mia wasn't entirely sure what category she fell into. She bitterly recalled a time when she voiced as much to a girl she thought was a friend. Two days later, every girl in the school was giving her a wide berth in the hallways. It didn't help that Mia didn't exactly ooze of femininity with her preference for boyish attire. Where Eli had been curvy and glittery, Mia was lanky and perpetually shoving her fists into her jean pockets. The only thing anyone ever complimented Mia on was her mop of thick, dark hair that cascaded past her shoulder blades in loose, shiny curls. They called it luscious and it nearly made Mia gag. Had it not served as a curtain to hide behind when she didn't feel like looking at her stupid classmates, she might have chopped it off. Goddess, she hated her old school.
A soft tap on her driver's side window broke her out of her reverie. Mia turned to look at the familiar face of her Uncle Alan peering down at her. "You alright?" he asked. "You've been sitting out here for a while." Though his expression was nothing short of serene, Mia knew he was concerned with her behavior. Everyone was always concerned with her behavior.
Instead of answering, Mia reached for the book sitting in the passenger seat and made to get out of her car. She schooled her features into something bordering on happy and turned to him once she closed the car door. "Yeah, yeah, I'm good." She looked down at her denim pants and charcoal-grey chucks. "Just lost in thought is all."
Deaton tilted his head to the side and observed his youngest niece. While they weren't exactly close, he had hoped they would have made it past the small talk stage by now. Especially since he'd been mentoring and training her for the last two weeks. Quietly nodding his head, he attempted once more to connect with the girl. "Any thoughts in particular?" he asked.
Mia shook her head before looking up at her uncle. "Nothing major. Just the usual," she replied. Mia had no intentions to divulge the embarrassing train of thought he found her consumed in a few minutes ago. His less-than-subtle efforts to "reach out" to her weren't lost on her though. So she compromised. "Um, my trip to the coffee shop was…interesting?" she hedged out. Deaton's eyebrows shot up and a pleased smile stretched across his face. He gestured with his hand toward the front door of the house.
"If you'd like, we can discuss it while I throw together some lunch for us." Mia nodded and trailed behind her uncle into the house. Right before they reached the front door, Mia stopped dead in her tracks with furrowed eyebrows. Alan turned around when he noticed his niece's sudden pause and confused expression.
"What is it Mia?" he asked, concern seeping into his words.
"Uncle," she asked, face scrunched up in an almost comical fashion. "What exactly are galaxy pants?"
Mia didn't think laughter constituted as a legitimate answer to her very legitimate question. Her uncle seemed to think otherwise.
