northern cal

The Misadventures of Stiles and Savannah - That Purple Hoodie

Author: JamieMac

Humor Themed - Fluffiness

“You’ve got to come Savannah. I throw the best parties and this one will be the biggest of the summer. It will be a great way for you to meet new people.” I listened to my new friend and neighbor Lydia Martin continue to spew all of the reasons why I should be attending her big summer blowout tomorrow night.

I moved to Beacon Hills exactly two weeks ago, and the perky strawberry-blond had spotted me standing in my front yard watching the movers unload boxes. She had skipped over, introduced herself, and proceeded to make me her new best friend. I was thankful to have a friend in this new town, but sometimes Lydia can be a bit much, and after spending two weeks practically attached to her hip, I was looking forward to having a quiet night at home.

“Lydia I don’t know. School starts on Monday and I would really like to just spend this weekend at home.” I tried to gently let her down.

“And this is exactly why you need to come tomorrow. Everyone from school will be there and you’ll walk into that building on Monday already having a group of friends.”

She had a point and I sighed, admitting my defeat, “Fine, what time?”

She squealed, “Party starts at 10, but you need to come over sooner so I can help you get ready. When I’m through with you, you’ll be leaving the party with a boy or two in tow.”


I tugged at the dress, “Are you sure that this isn’t too short?”

She looked me over as I stood in the mirror and shook her head, “Hell no, you look hot! Just wait until the boys see you.”

The sound of the doorbell echoed through her large house and she shrieked with delight and tore from the room. I did another once over, pulling at the dress again, trying to give it more length.  The din from downstairs started to grow, and with a deep breath, I proceeded to join the party.


The purple of his hoodie stood out on it’s own but it was the way that he danced, slightly spastic but with an odd sense of grace, that caught my eye. Lydia quickly latched onto my arm, guiding me around the crowded space, introducing me to just about everyone. The purple hoodie stayed in my peripheral vision though, as I made sure to not let it out of my sight.

The one guy I wanted to meet was pretty much the one person that my friend didn’t bother to introduce me to, so I decided to inquire. “Lydia, who is that,” I pointed in his direction.

Lydia followed my siteline, laughing when she realized who I was referring to, “Oh my god, that’s just Stiles.”

“Umm, okay, and am I supposed to know what a ‘Stiles’ is?” I questioned, slightly irritated.

She laughed, “That’s a Stiles and it’s a nickname. I actually have no idea what his real first name is.  Feel free to go and talk to him,” She shooed me away and turned her back, joining a nearby conversation.

I approached the boy. He was leaning up against the kitchen counter, chatting with another, one I recognized as Scott McCall, as Lydia had actually introduced me to him. The drinks happened to be near the two and I used the ploy of getting another drink as a cover. I kept my eyes on him though, and when the music started to pick up it’s pace again, I saw itching with dance floor anticipation.

“You’ve got some pretty good moves,” I spoke up, loud enough to be heard over the pulsing beat.

He looked around for the source, his eyes landing on me, “Are you talking about me?”

I nodded slowly, putting my new procured drink to my lips.

“Are you sure that you’re talking about Stiles,” Scott spoke up.

I giggled as Stiles shot his friend a hurt glance, “Yes, I’m talking about Stiles. I’m Savannah by the way. You, maybe, want to dance?”

He just stood there, mouth agape, a loss for words.

“Yes, as a matter of fact he’d love to dance with you,” Scott put both hands on his friends back and pushed him towards me. “Be gentle on him Savannah, he’s not entirely sure how to handle girls.”

“Seriously man, you are killing me here,” Stiles led me out onto the makeshift dance floor, the beat slowing down suddenly. “Oh, well we might want to wait for the next song.”

“Why,” I questioned, taking a step closer to his body.

His cheeks started to grow a little pink, “Umm, well see, I’m not very good… ummmm.”

I laughed as he sputtered and placed both of my hands on his shoulders, “If it helps, I can take the lead.” He kept his mouth shut and allowed me to take his hands, moving them to my waist, “I promise that I don’t bite Stiles.”

He seemed to relax a little as we swayed to the music and I took another step in, putting our bodies even closer together.

His eyes darted around the room, seemingly missing my face. I reached up and grabbed his chin, pulling it down so that he had no choice but to look at me, “It helps if your dancer partner makes a little small talk.”

“See, I’m not so good at small talk, I tend to just ramble.” He fidgeted, not realizing that every time he moved his hands, it sent shivers coursing through my body.

“You could ask me questions,” I needed a distraction, the closeness was screwing with senses.

“Umm, you’re new, right?” He watched as I nodded, “So where are you from?”

“Northern Cal, and before you ask, my father’s job brought us here.” I smiled as the blush dotting his cheeks deepened. “Do you like living in Beacon Hills?”

He nodded, then suddenly stopped, “Sometimes. Beacon Hills is different.”

My eyebrows laced in question, “How so?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see. It’s kind of hard to explain and even if I could, you wouldn’t believe me.” His eyes started to wandering again.

“Am I boring you?” I honestly wanted to know.

“What? Oh my god, NO! I just don’t often have really pretty girls want to dance with me, let alone want to talk to me.” His eyes were on my face again and I was amazed at how beautiful his eyes were.

“I think that all of those girls were missing out on something and well, I think I’m the lucky one.” I grinned up at him.

“Why are you the lucky one?”

“Because I have a feeling that I’m going to be the one to take you off the market,” I laughed as his eyes widened.

“Wait, you’re joking, aren’t you?” His face fell a little.

I slide my arms further up his shoulders, pulling my body closer to his, “Not that I know of.” I laced my fingers together behind his head.

“Why me? You don’t even know me?” His arms tightened around my waist.

I smiled, pressing myself into him, “I just think that there is something sexy about a guy in a purple hoodie.” My lips ghosted near his.

He laughed, “Well, I’m extremely happy I happened to pull this thing out of my closest tonight then.”

“Me too Stiles, me too.”

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