Alone • Liam Dunbar

Seven

With Kate in town, I wasn't going to walk around empty-handed. 

I left my room and locked the door behind me, keeping up the hanger on my doorknob that said not to enter. Housekeeping potentially vacuuming under my bed and finding my guns hidden there would make things super awkward.

This motel wasn't the nicest. It was a rickety old building with peeling paint, and the porch outside squeaked more than the engine on Stiles' Jeep, but it was decent for someone who didn't want many questions asked.

The workers here were under the assumption that my dad was a cross-country semi-truck delivery driver. It was absolutely ludicrous, but it worked. Most were rightfully unbelieving at first, but one day I had Derek pose as my so-called father, and they were sold.

The lady who owned this place swooned and praised him for being a single father providing for his daughter, and promised not to tell anyone I lived alone. She was nice and didn't bother me much but did occasionally ask about my "lovely father".

It also helped that I never missed a payment, and always added a discretionary cash bonus. 

When the Alpha Pack decimated my family, their riches became mine, so money wasn't a problem for me. In truth, I could leave the motel anytime I wanted to, buy a house or apartment somewhere downtown, but part of me resented putting down real roots here. 

Once Scott and the others graduated, there would be nothing for me in Beacon Hills. They'd go off into the world and begin their lives, and my vow to protect them would have been accomplished. I couldn't follow them forever. 

I was their friend, but I wasn't a part of their pack. 

I wasn't Allison. 

When they were ready to leave this town, I would be too. 

I depart from the motel, heading for the high school. I park near the front of the lot and head inside, swinging my helmet from side to side out of boredom. No one paid me any mind, and I told myself the silence was more enjoyable anyway. 

Entering my first period for the day, I find only a few other students in the room. The bell hadn't rung yet, so the hallways were more packed than the classrooms. 

I sit away from them and take a seat at the back of the class. I focus on bringing out my required materials for the day. When I reach for my Algebra textbook, the chair beside mine scrapes loudly against the floor. 

Mason cringes as he takes the open spot. He waves apologetically to the people around the room who gave him irritated glances for the noise, but rolls his eyes when they look away. It only makes me smile. 

He turns to me, mirroring the delighted gesture. 

"So, do you really have a parole officer?" He asks straightforwardly. 

I'm genuinely surprised at his bluntness, but not at all offended. I find that I don't want to necessarily lie to him, as I actually enjoy Mason's company. The idea of making small talk with him again didn't annoy me or send me into a nervous frenzy. 

"No, I don't. That guy that was outside called to get me out of class." I admit, referring to Stiles and his stupid miming. 

Mason snorts. "Yeah, I figured. That was Stiles Stilinski, right? The sheriff's son?"

I nod and Mason purses his lips in thought. 

"So are you two like...?" He trails off, but his suggestive tone allowed me to fill in the blank.

"Oh, god no." I shudder. I almost felt bad for the repulsed expression I wore, because Stiles wasn't that horrible, but the idea of him and I being anything beyond platonic was disturbing.