It's Senior Year, and Stiles Stilinski has a plan:
1. Apply and Get-In to BSU early admissions
2. Continue to stay off everyone else's radar
3. Graduate
There. An easy plan to survive the 195 days left before he graduates, and can thereby ridden hi...
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"Scott, watch out—!!"
"Oof!!"
With a loud thud and crash, Stiles once again slammed into Scott on their way down the snow covered hill. Stiles wasn't sure what constituted as being a "good skier" but at this rate he had to guess he wasn't anything close to it. At least, that's what the forming bruises on both he and Scott had assumed.
It only seemed to be clarified as Stiles face planted into the snow for the millionth time, bringing his best friend down with him. For a moment, he considered staying there. Perhaps if he did, the snow would suffocate him, or freeze him to death. But a heavy hand clapping against his shoulder caused him to do otherwise.
Flinching, his face lifted out from the snow, glittering flakes resting a top his eyelashes. His nose was cherry red, cheeks frost bitten and blushing. His hair had chunks of snow, clinging to his messy locks like puddy. And judging by the way his tongue felt as though it was bleeding, teeth clattering against one another, he could only imagine that he'd taken a nice bite out of the snow below him. He was a Popsicle. A human Popsicle.
"You good man?" Scott's wincing voice uttered. Somehow he was sitting up, and Stiles envied his ability to snap back so quickly from falls that he found to be paralyzing.
"Are you kidding? I wanna do that again." Stiles said, the sarcasm practically seeping out through his trembling lips, his arms screaming as he pushed himself up against their protest.
"Please," Scott shook his head, eyes squinting as he smacked the snow off of his winter hat. "Don't do that again."
Stiles rested his arms on his knees, allowing his head to lull back, eyes staring up at the thick clouds above. They had been out on the slopes since morning, and Stiles had yet to accomplish anything other than standing up properly on the skis. From that point on it had been nothing but possible concussions and endless mouthfuls of snow. Whoever had said Skiing was easy, was a bigger bullshitter than Stiles. And that meant a lot coming from him.
It had been Allison's idea for everyone to go skiing. She'd been so excited to show them all the very same slopes she'd grown up on throughout the years. And even though her plan was to leave early in the morning, she hadn't been the only one. The rest of the group couldn't wait to leave the house, practically jumping up and down as they'd headed towards the main lodge.
