❂ also stydia
❂: My muse is clumsy and crashes into yours.
Gliding through the halls at warped speed was becoming a daily routine for Stiles. It was unjust to assume that his need for urgency was his fault either. How could he control the fact that his eighth period teacher was always susceptible to dragging out a lecture till a solid seven minutes after the final bell had rung? Or that Coach was threatening to hang all those that showed up to lacrosse practice late by the ball? Or that his English classroom was located on the complete opposite end of the campus from the boys’ change rooms? Needless to say, it was a recipe for disaster with a huge side of panic. The brunette had been so wrapped up in getting there in the nick of time that he hadn’t bothered to look both ways once he turned the corner, resulting in a collision with the poor soul who had seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. “Shit!” He cussed, watching as the stranger’s books flew everywhere. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Stiles apologized frantically; bending down to compile everything that he had caused to scatter. When he came back up to hand them all their books, the high school it boy found himself locking eyes with someone that looked obnoxiously familiar. It only took him three seconds for him to realize who was standing before him. “You go here?” He sputtered, coming face to face with the girl who had mocked the crap out of him online. “Well then… ain’t that just the dandiest news I’ve heard all day. Huh.” With an uncertain and slightly dazed out nod of the head, Stiles fled.
