I smile at Stiles' words. "No problem. Talk to you later," I respond. I turn back around and walk out of the library. Do I feel kind of bad just leaving Stiles in the library? Yes, but I can't think about him right now. Why? Because the only thing on my mind is that yummy Alpha down the hallway; I guess "yummy" is a little juvenile, but I don't care, Aiden is hot.
He leans against the door to the storage closet. Cliché, right? I feel like I'm in some John Hughes movie. Aiden pulls me in unexpectedly, causing me to squeal, in turn causing Aiden to laugh. "What's so funny?" I ask him.
"You're just so goddamn sexy, you know that?" he responds. Wow, going from being called smart to being called sexy; it looks like I'm getting a lot of compliments today.
Aiden pulls me in for a kiss as he opens the door with his other hand. We walk into complete darkness. My hand fumbles for the light switch, but I manage to turn them on. Aiden rips off his shirt and begins to unbutton my blouse.
I pull my lips apart from his. Aiden furrows his brow and asks, "What's the matter?"
I shrug. Aiden smirks and lean in to kiss me once more, but I push him away. "Pushing you away means you shouldn't lean back in," I snap at him.
"Somebody is being rather feisty this morning," Aiden snaps back.
My eyes roll. "Sorry, I'm not up for our regular rendezvous today. I have a lot on my mind," I say, beginning to button my blouse.
"What's up?" he asks me.
I avoid his eye contact as I answer him, "No offense, Aiden, but I don't think it concerns you." After that, I quickly exit the closet and gather my things I dropped when Aiden grabbed me. I'm halfway down the hallway when I hear Aiden slamming the storage closet door shut in frustration.
After a class period of a horribly boring physics class, I find myself in the cafeteria – looking for a place to sit. Allison's out of the question because I see she's sandwiched in between Scott and Isaac. On the other side of the cafeteria, I spot Stiles. Books surround him as he stuffs his face with macaroni and cheese. I make my way over to him.
"Hey," I say as I sit down. Stiles rips his eyes away from a book he's reading. I can't help but notice his brown eyes lighting up and him doing his best to surpress a smile as he lays is eyes on me.
"Lydia! What are you, uh…what are you doing here?" he asks me. He does his best to gather all of the books and papers before I get a proper look at what he's reading. I manage to grab a piece of paper away from his grasp. Stiles sighs as I read over it.
"Why are you reading about PTSD and its affects on the victim's dreams, Stiles?" I ask him. "Does this have anything to do with that weird mystery guy in your dreams?"
"I just want to make sure what I'm thinking is correct," he tells me. Stiles looks up and continues, "I just want to make sure that whatever is going on with me is supernatural, and I'm not loosing my freaking mind."
"Stiles, you need to talk to Scott about this. He'll ask Derek or Deaton," I suggest.
Stiles shakes his head. "I can't get him involved with my problems. I'll have to figure this all out by myself," he says before going back to reading.
"Whatever you say," is all I say. I start to eat my salad.
Hours later, I find myself sitting on my bed, taking notes for my physics class. Suddenly, my eyesight goes blurry and a few seconds later, it goes back to normal. I notice what's now on my paper; nothing related to physics at all. Just two words, over and over: "help me". I don't have to think about what this means, or better yet – who: Stiles.
I rush out of my bedroom, throwing on a coat. I find my phone and call him. "Stiles! Is everything okay?"
I hear him gasping for air. "Panic attack," he manages to say. With that, I'm flying out of my house and to my car.
"Don't move, I'm coming over right now," I say, then hanging up.
I get to Stiles' house in ten minutes. His front door's open, his dad must still be at work. I run upstairs and find Stiles on his bathroom floor. "Stiles!" I yelp, hurrying over to him.
"Lydia…help…me," he sputters out between gasps for air. I see that he's sweating profusely.
"Stiles, remember what I told you! Hold you breath," I say to him, but he must not hear me because he continues to gasp for air.
"I saw her," he sputters out.
I don't know what to do. What I can do? I grab the back of his head and pull him in close, just inches from my face. "Stiles! Please, you have to hold your breath," I advise him.
"I can't!" he says. I see tears streaming down his cheeks like waterfalls. I can see him hurting through his brown eyes.
"Stiles," I say one more time, softly. Then I do it again. I kiss him. It's like we're in the locker room again, dealing with his first panic attack. After ten seconds, he pulls away.
"I held my breath again," he tells me, swallowing.
"I know…I could tell," I tell him. I glance around for a few seconds. When I go back to look at him, I notice he's staring at me. "I better get going."
"I know this going to sound childish," Stiles starts. He takes a breath. "But will you just stay…please?"
I look deep into his brown eyes and nod subconsciously.
