Clairsentience ➳ Derek Hale/Teen Wolf [2]

17. little green dress

Disclaimer: I do NOT own any parts of Teen Wolf or its plot or characters. I do not own Derek Hale. However I do own Skylar McCall and some of the things that come along with her plot (Like Harv & Kelly's, etc.).

☽𓁺☾

"Am I missing something?" Lydia asks as she turns into the driveway of the Argent's home. It is the strawberry blonde girl's birthday today, so even with everything going on—and the fact that tonight is the full moon—I set my personal issues to the side and made time for her for the first time in. . . I don't know how long. The foundation of our friendship remains strong but being unable to share the majority of my daily life with her has caused us to grow apart some. Regardless, it's her birthday, and Lydia makes quite a big deal out of her birthday every year.

"What do you mean?"

Lydia purses her lips, putting the car in park and narrowing her eyes at me. "I mean the fact that Allison's house is clearly the last place on Earth that you want to be right now. Are you guys in a fight?"

I try to offer a laugh, but it comes out awkward and only proves her point further, leading me to wring my fingers with a grimace. "No, no Allison and I are fine." For now. "I'm sorry I'm a little out of it. I just have a lot on my mind. But,"—I reach into the backseat, curling my fingers around the large Macy's tote with half a dozen dresses inside—"No more of that. I promise. It's your birthday and I'm here to spend time with you."

Her plump lips widen into a grin and she takes the bag from me cheerfully, locking the car doors behind her as we walk up to the mansion. She doesn't bother knocking, walking right in. I follow her, my eyes involuntarily scanning the living room for either of the hunters but seeing no one. We stomp up the staircase and into Allison's room, the light purple walls and decor contrasting against the bland neutral colors of the rest of the home. Allison's hunched over her desk, writing away in a journal. Her head snaps up when we walk in, her startled eyes jumping from Lydia, to the dresses, to me. She offers a smile which I return. She has no idea, I think. A little knot of guilt settles in my guts.

"Clear your schedule," Lydia orders, holding the bag up in a pose. "This could take awhile."

Lydia sets the bag on the bed and the three of us crowd around it, watching as she pulls dress after dress out of it like rabbits out of a magician's hat—they just keep coming. A classy black and white, a sparkly beige, a dark emerald green (that one's mine). Lydia couldn't bare to see us choose our own wardrobe for her big party tonight.

Allison giggles at the amount of clothes piled on her bed. "Lydia, how many outfits do you plan on wearing tonight?"

"It's my birthday party," Lydia says in a duh tone. "I'm thinking host dress, evening dress then, mmm, after-hours casual."