Sage ▸ Stiles Stilinski [Book One]

21.

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CHAPTER TWENTY ONE; 21

        Sage hated math. 

        She would have been fine with any other subject, but not math. Math was the epitome of torture. Even worse, her teacher decided to give a whole packet dedicated to something they all had yet to learn. She didn't want to bother Lydia by asking for help, especially after she just got back from her hike in the woods, so she opted for the only other person that might know it aside from Lydia. Which is why she was sitting on Stiles Stilinski's bed whining about how much she hated their math teacher, Ms. Cartwright. 

        "Sage, you're on your last problem. Just finish it and we can watch a movie," Stiles complained, having finished his own work about fifteen minutes ago. Now he was just staring at Sage who was refusing to pick her pen up to circle the letter 'C'. When Sage just buried her head deeper into his comforter, he took it upon himself to mark the answer himself. "You're so lazy." 

        Sage's head shot up and she stared at him baffled. "I walked through the forest for three and a half hours last night in boots that were bigger than Jackson's ego. Don't you dare call me lazy, Stilinski. I can take your ass down." 

        "Oh really?" Stiles asked, raising his eyebrows. He saw her fighting a smile, and he knew he was wearing a shit grin right now. Right when he thought she was going to give up, she rolled over so she was sitting on top of him, grabbing his hands so that they were above his head. Sage expected for Stiles to grow red, but he didn't. The grin was still on his face, and he was staring at her with a strange look in his eyes. 

        Having her in front of him, hair falling down like a curtain in front of her eyes, he realized just how badly he was falling for this girl. How everything she did drew him in closer, like a magnet. When she came back to Beacon Hills, he never imagined that she would be the one to break him from his infatuation with Lydia. He noticed something in her though, something that was holding her back. Sure, they'd kissed at formal, and maybe a few times after that, but they were never brought up again. 

        "Can I ask you something?" Stiles softly asked, his playful banter ending when he realized it was now or never. Sage nodded, letting go of his arms so he could sit up. He took a deep breath, and started to ask the question that has been on his mind for the past few months. "Will you—" 

        He was cut off when he saw something show up on Sage's face. She noticed just as quickly as he did, her hand shooting up to her cheek where she could feel a scratch appearing. With furred eyebrows, Sage shot out of Stiles' bed, running towards a mirror. By the time she got there, she could see the scratch already fading; soon enough there was no trace of it ever being present. Turning to look at Stiles who now stood behind her, his eyes wide with worry. 

        "Stiles, it wasn't anyone I know." 

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        The next day at school, Sage was extremely wary. After last night, she wasn't sure what was going to happen. Not only was Lydia coming back to school, but Jackson's body was still fighting the bite, and there was apparently a new person in the 'pack' that just raised the chances of her going through immense pain every time they got hurt. If more people were going to be joining in on the party, she really needed to reconsider staying friends with Derek.

        Speaking of Derek, she had yet to talk to him. After they had to leave the Hale house, not that Sage wanted to stay any longer, he bought her an apartment that he refused to stay at. There were only periodic moments when he would visit, and most of the time that was either to make sure she was still breathing, ask for a favor, take a shower, or eat all of her food. He told her where he was staying, in an abandoned train warehouse that looked less sanitary to sleep in than the burned remains of a roofless house. She knew why he was doing it  though. Derek never liked having nice things, he never thought he should have to honor of sleeping in a nice bed or having a sturdy ceiling. He would get her nice things that she didn't need, buy her new jackets and apartments but never anything for himself.