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The small handful of flowers comes from behind his back with a flourish. Well shit. Lydia stomps down the flutter in her chest and carefully ignores the adorable boyish grin that accompanies the bouquet.
“Gerbera daisies, huh?”
“You like ‘em?”
“Stiles, you know me. I’m not very….flower-y.”
“What? No way. Everyone likes flowers.”
“It’s not like I hate them. I mean, hate is such a strong word. I just have no luck keeping them alive. And don’t get me started on carnations. Ugh.”
Stiles snorts. “Put them in a vase, you ungrateful brat. They last a few days, no care required. It isn’t like I gave you a garden.”
“Fine. I’ll take the flowers.” She squints at him. “Why are you grinning like that? You look like a moron.”
“Is this you, starting to break down?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m taking the flowers. Isn’t that what you do when someone gives you a gift? What is there to break down?” Lydia makes air quotes with her hands.
“To stop being so scared of this.” He gestures between the two of them. “Us. Whatever is going on here, between us. It’s okay, you know?”
“Stiles. The odds of us happening are about as good as me keeping these daisies alive longer than a day. Slim to none.”
Stiles smirks. “And with that note, I’m out. Oh and you’re welcome for the flowers, princess.”
As soon as he hits the doorway, she brings the bouquet to her nose and inhales deeply, eyes closing.
Oh c’mon Lyds - Every chick has a favorite flower.
Stiles, I’m not every chick. Okay okay fine. I guess… I like gerbera daisies. When I was a little girl, my grandmother would buy red ones each week and put them in our kitchen. They were always so sunny and pretty and just- good memories.
This was months ago, a passing conversation between the two of them while they studied. She'd blinked hard with the memory as the words spilled out. When she grew quiet, Stiles smiled softly and quickly changed the subject. They never spoke about it again.
Slim to none, huh?