you and Stiles had a history, one that many people think you could write a story with. but ever since sophomore year, you had to move away due to your dad’s company

you were back in Beacon Hills for the junior year of summer. the first person you went to was Stiles.

now at his house, sitting on the roof like old times

“you look good” he muttered

“yeah? well, took some time for myself. got pretty.” you chuckled

“no, you were always pretty” he said before he could stop himself