❝They're searching a bunch of kids for a trickster spirit. They're not going to stop until they find one, and I'm not going to be the fool that tries to halt them. But the mark they leave behind the ear? That suggests more good than bad. It's the Ka...
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CHAPTER THREE GAME OF CHANCE
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Stiles Stilinski wasslightly (okay, very, extremely, and totally) pissed off.
The reason being? He had spent two hours of his afternoon making it absolutely, one hundred percent guaranteed that Lena Roth would be somewhere within the house where his childhood friend, Heather, was throwing her birthday party. It was supposed to be a surprise, too. Stiles was going to walk into another high school's party confidently, and then toss Scott under the figurative bus that is, ultimately, spending expected time with Lena Roth. Not that Stiles' task was all that excruciating, being that he technically already knew Lena would be at the party. The news had found itself traveling rather quickly down the grapevine; and the listeners found themselves surprised to hear that the new girl was going to a party, despite being unfamiliar with everyone that would take up her immediate vicinity.
But, as the two strolled down the dimly lit street, Scott's facial expressions and heavy steps were beginning to resemble that of a recently kicked puppy's. And it was bothering Stiles, quite a bit actually, because his surprise would have to be outed before they even made it to the damn door if Scott couldn't find it in himself to put a smile on. But then again, if he did tell Scott who was most likely going to be at Heather's, one of two things could happen: Scott's ego could inflate and he would walk in like he always went to parties and faced his sort-of crush, or Scott's ego would deflate and the boy would use his teen wolfiness to hightail it out of the neighborhood. Stiles, for one, was hoping for the former.
"What?" Stiles let out.
"What?" Scott asked, "What do you mean, what?"
"I mean what, and you know what."
"What, what?"
Stiles sucked in a breath, finally relenting based off the fact that he knew if he didn't let go of the banter now, they'd most likely find themselves trying to sort out their own conversation for the next hour. Stiles turned slightly, hands clenched at his sides as he explained his words through a heavy sigh, "That look you were giving."
Scott denied. "I didn't give a look-"
"There was a distinct look, Scott." Stiles explained bitterly, stumbling to catch up with his best friend. Scott bit down on his lip, realizing that he must have let his heart out onto his sleeve because there was no way that Stiles would know he really didn't want to be going to a party unless he looked miserable. Yeah, he definitely needed to work on masking his feelings.
"What look?" Scott found himself asking. In spite of the fact that he knew exactly what look Stiles was talking about, Scott trained his eyes on the visible breath coming out of his mouth rather than his friend's face. He knew, even without the supernatural ability to pick up a blip in a lying heartbeat, Stiles would know that Scott was stalling just by getting a glimpse at his face.
