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@stilesisastilinski
I can't compute trigonometry,
When I was in Trig, I fell asleep every single day and I dreamed of owning this place called Sugar Mountain. Snoop Dog was my houseās caretaker and Katy Perry could shoot whip cream out of her boobs. Anyway, I failed Trig but I ended up calling the premise of California Girls.
Well that's an achievement in itself. Forget trig, you can predict shitty pop videos.
I can't compute trigonometry,
I thought Calculus was supposed to be harder than trig? Was I lied to my whole life?Ā
Nah, I think it's just more of a personal thing you know? Some people really dig trigonometry, then others can't get through it without contemplating suicide.
I can't compute trigonometry,
I donāt like math in general.
Me neither, but my grades are slipping because f everything that's been happening and if I wanna play lacrosse this winter than I gotta step my game up.
I can't compute trigonometry,
Trig is almost the same thing but a bit more difficult, donāt stress over it so much.
Maybe it's just the name then. It just sounds complicated.
I can't compute trigonometry,
Youād think the two went hand in hand, but nope. I was all for trig until they started showing like the graphs of functions, and then I was a bit lost. But if it has sine, cosine, or tangent, I can figure it out pretty okay.
Dude me too, but only because I came up with this technique to remember how to find the hypotenuse and shit of a triangle. You go, some old hippie, caught another old hippie, tripping on acid.
I can't compute trigonometry,
Calculus, fine. But trig? Nope. No way.
Maybe,
[Harley couldnāt help but smile as he suggests helping in the kitchen. The results would be very laughableābut also highly disastrous. Stroking her chin gently in thought, she glanced down.] Yeah, I think Iām going to have to veto that idea. I can be a controlling bitch in the kitchen. I think itās because itās the one time I actually can control things without completing fucking up. I can trust that the food isnāt going to gut me unlike the things I fight on a daily basis. The food isnāt going to hurt me, or judge me or shit like thatā. I actually control whatās going on for once.
-Stiles nodded, his mouth forming one of those down-turned agreement frowns.- Makes sense. Like how some people really dig math because they don't have to worry about it ever changing. Two plus two will always equal four kinda thing. But whether I'm in the kitchen with you or not, you still gotta make something for me sometime. I won't let this rest Harley, I absolutely will not.
Maybe,
Good. It must be working then.
Well I certainly aim to please. Especially vicious she-alphas.
Maybe,
Oh. Well to be fair, it wasnāt a very good joke.
Right, right. I guess I should work on that then.
Maybe,
[Harley glanced down, the word ānoā on the tip of her tongue.] Nā[She glanced back up at him with a roll of her eyes.] Fine. I like cooking a lot. Italian, Indian, Mexican, Persianāname something to cook and if I havenāt cook then Iāll try. I also am obsessed with Lord of the Rings, mainly because itās the only action movie my parents let me watchā¦which is stupid when you consider how my life is now. I fuck a lot of things up, so then I read books about people who donāt fuck things up. I love Panic! At the Disco, Two Door Cinema Club, and the Arctic Monkeys because I really wanna fuck someone to Arctic Monkeys. But I donāt really know why. Also, I have no filter. I like that though, it makes things interesting.
-Stiles smiled as he listened, choked slightly after inhaling to sharply at the mention of fucking someone to Arctic Monkeys because, well, he shared that same desire. But wouldn't admit it. Not now anyways. However, the smile returned when she mentioned her lack of filter because that was one of his favorite Harley Qualities. It was what drew him to her in the first place.- I knew that one. I definitely knew that one. Mainly because I like it too...I sorta dont have one either, but it hardly ever makes things interesting. It usually just fucks things up. So hey, another thing we have in common. But you totally have to make me something sometime--I'll help in some way so it doesn't seem like I'm some misogynistic ass hole sending you into the kitchen.
[Private: Stallison]
Sheād thrown her phone down onto her bed no more than two seconds after Stiles had said that heād be on his way over. Sure, she invited him there - and yes, she half-expected him to agree to all of it, but she still hadnāt been ready to be āseen,ā per se. Her hair was still wet with the remnants of her hour-long shower; notes of black raspberry, plum, and vanilla still clung to her skin with a sensual balsam in a dark kiss of heady fragrance. And sheād been lounging in her towel forĀ god knowsĀ how long.
She reached up and unclipped the messy knot atop her head before bending over to tug a long pair of petticoat socks on (to match her t-shirt; boy short pajamas) and pull them up and over her knees before dramatically flipping her head up in a sinuous undulation of movement, sending it flying back in a riotous mass over her shoulders before the sound of Stilesā arrival met her ears. In a hurried rhythm, she made every attempt to wipe the remnants of the powdered donut sheād just stuffed in her mouth from her face as she bolted out of her room and descended the stairs to reach out for the door and welcome him inside. āHi.ā She breathed as offered him a small smile - and caught her breath. āGet in here, itās cold.ā She urged with a light laugh.
Stiles had given up on the window and was staring blankly down at his feet when she answered the door in adorable dishevelment. He lifted his head and happened to quickly scan her from top to bottom in the same movement--the smile that spread across his lips was frankly unstoppable. "Says the one with the wet hair." He teased, leaning forward to place a kiss on her cheek before stepping inside. He turned around once he was a foot away from the first step of that winding staircase in the Argent home, and faced her, hands in pockets. "Is your dad home? Or has he just switched to stealth mode now that the Stilinski kid is here?" He craned his neck to look upstairs for movement as he awaited an answer.
[Private: Stallison]
Stiles made his way up the Argents' walkway and headed straight for the front door. As romantic and agile as sneaking in through the window was, he was no Scott McCall. Plus, the last time that happened, Melissa McCall drew a bat on him, so God knows what would be waiting for him if Chris Argent heard a bump or two. Despite the month and a half they'd been dating, Allison and Stiles hadn't really gotten the chance to have a get-to-know the parents dinner, or really anything normal. Needless to say, a night with Allison and donuts sounded incredibly perfect.
Stiles reached the front door and quickly fixed his hair in the dim reflection of the window next to the door before knocking thrice against the polished wood. His hands subconsciously slid into his pockets as he waited, listening for incoming footsteps.
Maybe,
What? Why not? I like making you all nervous.
Uh yeah, I can friggin' tell.
[Text]: Yes. Come over?
Text: Iāll be there in ten.
Text: Save a donut!
Maybe,
Believe it or not, Iāve never had the favorites talk with anyone. Newsflash, Stilinski, no one cares about what I like.
-Stiles frowned- Hey, come on none of that cynicism. I care about what you like more than I care about what a lot of people like. And I did ask you, so go on. Talk about yourself. Be as self absorbed as possible.
Maybe,
Oh shut up. Who cares about what you want? Really? Other than you obviously. What matters is what I want.
Lily, what the hell? I thought you weren't going to freaking bring this up anymore.
[Text]: Should be. They're gooood. What'cha researching?
Text: Nothing that canāt be put off. Wanna hang out?
