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Summary
Lydia looks over her shoulder to look at Derek Hale again, then back to him. “He’s an asshole, you know.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Stiles is confused, furrowing his brow. “I’ve only spent the last ten years of my life fighting with him.”
“Yeah, but, I mean, he’s an asshole,” she draws the word out nice and long, as if it takes on a different meaning depending on exactly how she says it. “No one who has ever dated or hooked up with that guy has ever had anything nice to say about him after the fact.”
“What do I care about that?”
She looks at him. It’s that all-knowing, all-seeing gaze, like the eye of Mordor. Stiles feels tiny under its wrath, so he looks away and stares down at his beer can, traces the design with his thumb. “I know you, Stiles Stilinski.”
“Not really. We only dated for, like, five months.”
With a snort, totally uncharacteristic of her and something she would never do sober, she rolls her eyes. “Gee, I wonder why.”
Series
- Part 1 of Down by Contact