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It's always the same thing with him. Lydia gave him a chance a few months ago, a pity fuck, if you will. She knew, anyone with eyes knew, that Stiles had a thing for her. Lydia once remarked to Allison that finally sleeping with him was a "mercy kill." What could go wrong with finally giving this poor, pathetic boy what he wanted?
When she finally agreed, Lydia warned him that he couldn't get attached or else he'd be the only one to get hurt in the end. He said he understood and they had sex in her bedroom when her parents were out of the house. He had trouble getting undressed and putting on a condom.
She was lying underneath the covers. "I'm not getting any younger, here," she said and rolled her eyes.
He climbed on top of her and wasn't completely terrible, not the best but it wasn't earth shattering sex either. He got her off once that night and that was good enough.
They kept meeting up whenever she was alone and "in need of companionship," as she called it, but really, she just wanted to get fucked.
The night he told her he loved her was over at his place. Lydia simply got out from under him, put her clothes on and replied, "I'm sure you do."
Every single time he told her he loved her, she shrugged it off. He knew for years, from the very beginning of this arrangement, that she never liked him. Yet Stiles thought he could get through to her eventually. He was wrong.
This pattern kept repeating itself every time she agreed to having sex, until Lydia had had enough. They were in the back of her car in a motel parking lot, as Stiles had forgotten you had to be 18-years-old to rent a room.
As always, when he finished, he said, "I love you."
Lydia sighed as she buttoned up her shirt, "No, you don't."
"Yes, I do," he reiterated.
"You don't love me," she said again and got into the driver's seat. "Now, get out."
"Are you serious right now?"
Lydia looked at him through the rear view mirror and raised her eyebrows and shrugged.
He huffed and got out. Stiles knocked on the passenger side window. Lydia put the window down, "What?"
"Why are you being like this. Why can't you understand that I love you. Lydia, I love you."
"Stiles, fuck you. Grow up," She said and drove away, stranding him in the parking lot.