"Tall, dark and dangerous checking you out, three o’clock," Lydia says, swiping the crumpled twenty off Stiles’ drinks tray and tucking it into her bra.
"My three o’clock, or yours?" Stiles asks, making a slapping motion at her hand when she snags the ten as well. He doesn’t actually connect, because he’s not suicidal.
"Behind you, dumbass," Lydia says with an eyeroll and swishes away. Stiles takes a beat to lean a hip on the bar, makes like he’s waiting for an order and is merely scanning the room while he waits. He’s been feeling eyes on him for the last hour or so but that’s pretty natural given he’s supposed to have people look at him, that’s what he’s paid for. This felt different though, there was a weight to it but Stiles hadn’t wanted to be obvious.
He does a casual three sixty and does catch the gaze of a glowering werewolf with thick eyebrows and a strong jaw. The guy has artful stubble going on and he looks like he’s pissed off at the room, but especially at Stiles and Stiles can roll with that. Lydia wouldn’t have called attention to him if he hadn’t been Stiles’ type.
His sister is good like that.
Read More →