Laying on Stiles bed and staring at the ceiling, listening to him rant about your sister, Lydia Martin. You couldn’t help but to role your eyes, Stiles didn’t see that. He was pacing back and forth around his room, talking about the girl that doesn’t really care about him. “She’s just- perfect.” He said, smiling to himself. Perfect, perfect Lydia. Thats all she ever was. Why doesn’t he like me instead?