something about stiles’ exaggeration calms lydia’s snappy mood as she clicks the passenger seat belt in place, glossed lips curving into a hinted smile.
❛ please, ❜ she arched a rose gold brow, amusement coloring her features.
❛ i wouldn’t shop at ross even if it were abandoned and everything was fair game in a zombie apocalypse. you know i’m a macy’s girl, ❜ she teased, intrigued by the mention of ‘ goddess ‘ — indirect or not, she’ll take it. curiosity eclipses any indignation & she blinks, watching him.
❛ where are we going ? ❜
his squirming stops, hands stilling against the worn polyurethane of the wheel as both brows comically shoot up into the high recesses of his fringe. disbelievingly —– jokingly. “what’s wrong with ross —- i shop at ross.…” there’s the beginning tilt of a comfortable smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he throws the wrangler into first & takes off down the road. without realizing it, stiles relaxes beneath the weight of her presence, her proximity effectively soothing his fraying nerves & he leans just a bit further into the seat, & starts tapping out a near-silent tune that doesn’t exactly match the one idly playing in the background.
“oh, you know. i thought we could spend the night in., and by that i mean, we’re making a pit stop at the library to look at these latin scripts —– and then it’s anything you want to do. my treat. honestly, the world’s your oyster.”
