"please, just let me help you"
"why should i? everyone i know either dies or thinks i'm a total freak show"
Georgia Ray is a social outcast. Nobody bothers to spare her a second glance, unless it's to roll their eyes or scoff. Living alone w...
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SCHOOL WAS ARGUABLY the last place anyone would want to be after being ritually sacrificed in place of their legal guardians. Georgia was steadily growing used to the feeling of eyes on her at all times, making her skin crawl. However, it never ceased to make her heart accelerate and palms grow sweaty.
Coach's class was already a stressful position to be in—this whole post-death ordeal wasn't helping. Georgia sat completely rigid in her desk, hands gripping the tabletop like she was about to fall through the floor.
Scott noticed, of course. He'd been acting as an alpha to his friends long before his eyes lit up their vehement red. With a frown, he looked from the scared shitless Georgia to Stiles. He wasn't much better, sat with his lips parted and a vacant look to his hazel eyes.
"Stilinski," Coach's crazed voice snapped through the air, abruptly halting whatever lecture was occurring previously. Georgia flinched, swiveling to look at her boyfriend in concern. The face of freckles didn't even blink, "Are you paying attention back there?"
Silence. Georgia swore bile was creeping up her throat from the anxiety of the situation. She swallowed thickly.
"Stilinski!" Coach shouted again. It wasn't until Georgia nudged his ankle with her foot that Stiles sprung to life again.
"Uh-huh?" he blinked rapidly, pretending like that didn't just happen.
"I asked you a question," Bobby Finstock practically barked. His loud voice was getting to Georgia, though not as badly as the whispers.
"Freak."
Georgia squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, forcing it away. She was much more focused on Stiles.
"Uh sorry, Coach. What was it?" Stiles awkwardly asked, hands fiddling amongst themselves.
"It was: Stilinski, are you paying attention back there?" Coach sassed, clearly less than impressed. He wasn't a very observant man when it came to his student's well being.
"Oh," Stiles blurted. His eyes briefly caught Georgia's, frowning at her concern, "Well, I am now."
"Stilinski, stop reminding me why I drink. . ," Coach droned on with a sigh, "Every night," he returned back to the lesson, "Does anybody else want to try the question on the board?"
Stiles glanced over, seeing both Scott and Georgia staring at him, "I'm okay," he tried to assure, "I just fell asleep for a second."
Georgia's brows pursed with even deeper worry, "Stiles. . ."
"You weren't asleep."
The bell rang, signaling lunch. Georgia saddled up beside Stiles, instantly grasping her hand in his. It brought both of them a feeling of relief.
"Did you get any sleep last night?" Georgia asked softly. She didn't want to sound too demanding or harsh, she was just genuinely growing worried.
