Mad. Stiles · Y/n story by @Peigh13

The lacrosse field was a battleground of dust and grunts, the late afternoon sun throwing long shadows across the turf. You’d been dodging Scott’s new, unsettlingly good reflexes for the better part of an hour.

Coach Finstock

Water break! Five minutes! And if I catch any of you hydrating with anything but water, I’ll make you run the bleachers until you puke!

You grabbed your water bottle, throat raw and burning. Scott peeled off to talk to Allison, her ponytail swaying as she laughed at something he said. You watched them for a second—them, easy and golden in the light.

Jackson Whittemore

sneering as he walked past Your boyfriend looks lost. Better go fetch him before he wanders into traffic.

Jackson’s laugh was a sharp, ugly sound as he sauntered away. A few guys snickered. Scott shot you an apologetic glance, but he was already being pulled away by Allison.

Stiles Stilinski

finally looking up, a startled blink Oh. Hey. Good practice?

He had the audacity to sound casual. Like he hadn't been ignoring you. Like you were just two people bumping into each other in a hallway.