“Princess, you really oughta lighten up on the perfume there. I mean, even if we weren’t trapped in this closet I’d be more than a little overwhelmed.”
Lydia narrows her eyes at Cora. She can’t help the situation at all, the way they’re crowded together in the small storage closet trying to hide from the rampaging trolls. “I’m not wearing perfume,” Lydia snaps.
“Oh, that’s how you naturally– oh,” Cora says. Her voice gets a bit smaller, hesitant, and Lydia can feel Cora trying to move back, like she’s repulsed or something.
There isn’t much room in the closet and Cora ends up tripping over a mop and pitching forward instead. Lydia catches her and props her back up, shushing her.
Their faces are incredibly close together. Cora startles, trying to move back.
“What is wrong with you?” Lydia hisses. “I know you don’t like me but we have to work together right now–”
“Oh, it’s not a matter of me not liking you,” Cora mutters.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing,” Cora says, and if Lydia didn’t know any better, she’d think the girl was blushing.
“Stop fidgeting, the trolls can detect movement. We have to wait for Mason to finish the spell,” Lydia says, but Cora keeps trying to sink backwards into the closet. Away from Lydia. “Honestly, whatever I’ve done to offend you–and it’s not my perfume because I’m not wearing any today– you’re gonna have to get over it fast.”
Her phone buzzes. It’s a text from Stiles. Trolls passing the B-corridor. If you’re there, don’t move! Mason says almost done.
Cora trips over a box and pitches forward, directly onto Lydia again, just as she can hear rustling outside the door.
Lydia freezes, holding on to Cora until the trolls pass. As soon as the movement is over– and Cora must know exactly when that is, because she flattens herself against the wall.
“Well,” Lydia says haughtily, a little hurt.
“Look it’s not you,” Cora says immediately. “I mean, it is kinda you, but it’s not like--”
“You’re repulsed by me,” Lydia says dryly.
“No, I just realized that you’re-- I mean, it doesn’t matter,” Cora says, stumbling over her words.
Lydia narrows her eyes. She’s never seen this girl anything other than straightforward and confident. “I’m what?”
“Really, it doesn’t matter,” Cora says, reaching for the door.
Buzzes from two different phones.
Cora checks first. “That’s Scott. It’s safe now. Alright, been fun, Princess, I’m out of here.”
Lydia catches her by the elbow. “Honestly, if it’s something about me, I want to know. I thought this whole united pack thing was about not keeping secrets from one another--”
Cora sighs. “It’s not a-- fine. Yes, it’s a supernatural thing. No, it’s not a dangerous thing or anything about you being a banshee whatever. It’s just like werewolves, certain people just... smell more attractive. It’s a compatibility thing. Some werewolves call that instinct, or that those people are mates. I honestly thought your perfume was just-- and then I realized-- so I’m being weird. I’m going now.”
She opens the door and makes to leave, but Lydia steps in front of it, thinking quickly. She doesn’t dislike Cora; far from it; she finds the girl interesting, certainly enough. The information that Cora actually is attracted to her is actually incredibly flattering. And Lydia appreciates her protective streak. And that smile. “Okay,” Lydia says.
“Okay... what?”
“I like dark mocha frappuchinos, and when they’re in season, that with a dash of pumpkin spice syrup. No whip. If coffee goes well, then there’s a matinee of The Martian we can catch; and then I’ll take you to dinner after.” Lydia nods, already coordinating an outfit. Cora will probably wear a leather jacket and those tight jeans, some sort of cute tank top; Lydia nixes all the tank-top-jacket combos in her head because it would be too matchy, has three outfits potentially decided (one strapless dress, two sundresses) by the time Cora responds.
“What? You want to-- this is a date?”
Lydia checks her phone. “Oh look, trolls are taken care of. I have to go home and change, if you’re gonna keep your current outfit.”
Cora looks surprised, and then pleased. “You want to go on a date. With me. Wow, just because I said you smelled nice, Princess.”
Lydia huffs. “Stiles told me wolfy noses practically can smell out a happily ever after. I’m willing to take my chances. And one more thing-- while I don’t object to pet names of a royal nature, I’m less of a princess, more of a--”
“Queen,” Cora says, with a smile. “Of course. I’m looking forward to it.”
They leave the school holding hands. Lydia thinks it’s a very good turn of events, considering the day started with screaming and trolls and running away.
@pegcartr ur wonderful affirmative tags on my selfies (& other ppls selfies u r just a beautiful affirmative loving person and it is amazing) are the best 😊😊 ily 💖