73. “I wrote you a song.”
Also on ao3
Stiles was tipsy, he hadn’t meant to get that way, but he was nervous. It was his big night, his first solo record release party, but he wasn’t in the partying mood.
He knew that he should be mingling, chatting with some of the A List celebrities that Lydia have gotten to the party, but instead he was sitting at the back of the room with a bottle of Jack in one hand. He felt like he was still a new kid on the scene, standing at the back of the room to avoid talking to strangers.
The thing was, he looked every bit the rockstar that he was suppose to be with his artfully mussed hair that made him look like he had spent the day having sex, his jeans that were sinfully tight, his black button down was unbuttoned to show his patch of chest hair, the sleeves rolled to his elbows.
He looked the part and he was tipsy enough to try to play the part, but he knew if he tried to stand up from his spot on the floor he’d fall over and he’d probably say something stupid to the likes of Erica Reyes or Kira, no last name, the two ethereal pop goddesses that Lydia had managed to get in attendance.
“Hey,” A familiar voice said from above Stiles and he closed his eyes. There was no way Derek was here, they hadn’t spoken in months. Stiles didn’t look up, he was sure he was hallucinating. Maybe he had had more to drink than he thought
“Stiles, can you at least look at me?”