𝐒𝐓𝐘𝐃𝐈𝐀 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐒

Roommates

au- they are roommates in an apartment on the outskirts of new york city

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"Hey, are you hungry? I was thinking of making Ramen noodles tonight for dinner," said Stiles from his unmoved position on the couch, watching some stupid TV show. He wasn't sure when he last got up, or moved, for that matter, but he was comfy...and a couch potato.

He only said this because he heard the familiar clicking of his roommate's high heels walking down the small hallway and into the kitchen. Lydia Martin sighed, and adjusted the dress on her shoulders so they would be comfortable. Her strawberry blond mess of what she called hair was now tamed, and sectioned into curls that curtained her face and sprawled across her back. Well, not that Stiles could see her at the moment- he was watching that stupid TV show which he didn't want to admit was actually pretty spectacular.

"Can't. I'm going on a date with Jackson. It's our three month anniversary," said Lydia, distracted by her top and fixated her straps on her heels.

Stiles rolled his eyes. Jackson was the douche that Lydia had been seeing for the past three months, and he had to admit that as good looking as he was, he had a bad vibe to him. Jackson obviously didn't like the fact that Stiles and Lydia were roommates, since he nearly punched Stiles when he met him. (He didn't, though, so Stiles wasn't as pissed). But Lydia didn't seem to notice, so Stiles didn't be the asshole who ruined it for her. He didn't say anything about the further topic, just creating a low, humming noise in the back of his throat that said 'OK' to having her decline his little Ramen noodle date.

He was going to make it all overly special and fancy, too. But he didn't say that. He'd just eat by himself, probably watching more of the stupid TV show. He was too stubborn (or lazy) to change the channel.

"I'm leaving in about two hours, so if you wouldn't mind cleaning the kitchen while I get ready that would be fantastic," asked Lydia, walking over to the arm of the couch to tower of him, seeing that it was three in the afternoon, and Stiles was still in his pajamas.

"Mhm," Stiles hummed, not making eye contact. Stupid TV show was so stupid...why was he watching it? Also, he didn't question the fact that it took Lydia two hours to get ready for a date with a douche, because he'd been her best friend for years. He knew she meant business.

TWO HOURS LATER

Lydia almost sang she was so satisfied with the way she looked. Jackson would be on his knees tonight when he saw her. She was a fucking goddess, and she knew it everyday. She was wearing a black dress with quarter sleeves, riding down to her mid thigh and hugging her like a second skin. It brought out every curve and, dare she say it, little piece of fat. But she didn't worry about that. Jackson wouldn't say anything, right?

She added on some jewelry and her black high heels and did a light smokey eye type makeup on her eye lids, slapping some red, crimson red, lipstick on that made her plump lips pop. Her hair was already curled, perfected, tamed, and everything just felt so right at the moment.

She stepped out of her bedroom, smirking in victory as she strutted down the hallway to see the kitchen still a mess, and Stiles still in the same spot he was before. The only difference was: he was actually looking interested in the show.

Lydia huffed. "Did you seriously not move from that spot? I asked you to clean the kitchen..."

Stiles laughed sarcastically. "Babe, please, I went to the bathroom, so that counts."

Lydia did not like the form of the pet name towards her, but she didn't address it, only walking over to part of the kitchen counter where is wasn't stacked with papers and bills, and placed her purse on it, making sure she had all her necessities together.