He’s staring at Lydia again. It’s almost comical, how entranced he is by the blonde, (she would have you say it’s strawberry blonde), but it seems like you’re the only person that isn’t laughing. God, does his mouth have to actually be open? Could you not be spared the humiliation for one single day? You’d been crushing on Stiles since fifth grade, but as soon as you realized, you knew that nothing would ever come of it, because he was completely and utterly in love with Lydia Martin, who is everything you are not.

She was beautiful, with her red hair, pale skin and sparkling green eyes, and you… were just there. Did it matter that she had a boyfriend? Nope, because Stiles loved her all the same.

So you took what you got, which was friendship, and painfully, nothing more. You almost wondered if Lydia even knew what she was missing, because there was honestly nothing that Jackson had that Stiles didn’t, but a petty part of you liked that she hadn’t given him much attention back. Maybe then, one day, he’d pay attention to you.

But for now, you were stuck with Stiles and his pining, which was currently manifesting itself into dreamy sighs in the middle of U.S. History. “She’s so pretty,” he whispered, and you didn’t even know if he was talking to you—it was hard to tell with him, sometimes, especially because the both of you sat next to each other.