She remembers how intensely Stiles observed her, like he could see into her soul. Much to her surprise, she wanted to let him, even though it scared her to allow someone so close.
He lowered his voice to a whisper when he spoke the next time. The sincerity in his tone was like the ocean on a clear day – so pure, and deep, and expansive that she had no doubt Stiles meant it when he said, “Lydia Martin, you are something... You’re…incredible.”
She remembers his lips, silky and slightly parted. She remembers his minty breath ghosting across her face, his lashes casting long shadows over angled cheekbones, his skin dotted with a pattern of moles that put the constellations to shame. Her heart was made vulnerable by his eyes, sparking gold in the moonlight.
She remembers thinking she had just caught a glimpse of what heaven must be like.
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