Author's Note: Thank you so much for reviewing. Hope you enjoy the new chapter!

"What did you do with him?" she asked, breaking the silence. The thought of Stiles tied up just like she was, not able to flail or fidget, popped in her head.

"Nothing," he told her calmly. The Stiles she knew was never this still. He was always fidgeting or flailing. Who was this?

Lydia glared at him. He pulled up a chair right in front of her and sat down, looking her dead in the eye.

"I thought you liked the new me," his voice got husky as he leaned in towards her.

Even thought it was the last thing she wanted, a blush spread across her cheeks. The same cheeks she could feel his breath tickling. She looked anywhere but into his eyes.

"Shut up," she pushed the words out of her mouth, knowing she had to say something.

But still, the embarrassment raged up inside her as she remembered telling Allison about the kiss. She kicked herself internally as she recalled describing it in perfect detail. Allison had looked so stunned, she'd put her hand over her mouth to stifle her surprised laugh. That doesn't sound like Stiles, she had said, looking around and making sure no one was listening. That's because it wasn't.

She thought about how all week she had been studying him, waiting for him to acknowledge what had happened. But he never did. He just gave her the same puppy dog grin he always did. He was just Stiles.

"Where is he?" Lydia changed the subject.

"You're looking at him," Stiles reclined in his chair, putting his arms behind his head. Lydia scolded herself for letting her eyes flit to the sliver of his stomach that was briefly exposed when his shirt rode up. He caught her looking and his smile widened.

"You're not Stiles," she insisted.

"What makes you say that?" he asked, clearly reveling in her distress.

"Because!" Lydia's voice breaks in frustration. "You're just not. Everything you say, everything you do, it's not him."

But he just kept smiling like he couldn't be more satisfied with himself if he tried. And it drove Lydia crazy. She had to get him talking. She had to find out where Stiles was.

"Also, you tied me to a chair. So I know you're not exactly one of the good guys. Now tell me, where is he?"

He shrugged and gave her a blank smile. Like he just didn't have a clue.

Lydia let out a small scream of frustration.

"Sorry, did you miss when I was a little easier to order around?" he asked.

"Yes!" she yelled, exasperated.

He threw back his head and laughed and for a second he looked just like the Stiles she knew. She felt a pang in her chest. Wherever he was, Lydia really hoped he was okay.

"Okay, Lydia," he scooted his chair as close to her as possible. "I'll tell you. You're right I'm not him."

He laid his hand on her shoulder and started to trail his fingers down her arm. He leaned in and his breath tickled her ear as he whispered into it.

"This body is his," he told her as she tried to ignore the heat coming off of his hands.

"But Stiles... isn't home," he tapped his temple with the other hand. Lydia couldn't help but notice the freckles all over his face. She remembered her Stiles.

"Then where is he?" she asked again through gritted teeth.

"He's still up here," he explained, playing with the buttons on her sweater. "I push Stiles aside... and I come out to play,"

"So you're in his head?" Lydia asked. "Can he hear me?"

"No," he shook his head. "When I'm out, Stiles is stuck in here. He wakes up and doesn't know where he's been or what he's done. Sound familiar?"

He cupped his hand under her chin and she wrenched out of his grasp. Angry tears filled her eyes but she blinked them back.

"Fuck you," she hissed.

A slow smile spread across his face.

"Maybe later."

He backed away. She looked around, she was clearly in the building they had checked. Stiles must have found something when he was looking upstairs. This was her fault. They should have stuck together.

She had to save him somehow.

"He found you up here, didn't he?" she asked, desperate to know more.

She saw a flicker of something in his eyes. Recognition? Respect? Fear?

"Maybe he's right, you're not as stupid as you look," he said.

"Have you been him all week?" she asked.

"Not the whole time, no," he answered, one corner of his mouth curving up. "He was wondering why you were acting so strangely around him. Allison too. Did you tell her about the kiss?"

Lydia looked down at the floor, her silence answering him.

"Wow, Lydia," he drew closer to her, kneeling down and catching her gaze. "Jackson, Aiden, Me. You really have a type, don't you?"