The Fake-Up

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Chapter 8-

The Fake-Up

Under the light of an almost full moon, Scott and Penelope follow Stiles down a dark path through the woods. "Can you at least tell us what we're doing out here?" Scott calls to their friend that was currently leading them, his hand grasping Penelope's while Stiles' back was turned.

"When your best friend gets dumped-" Stiles is cut off by the boy beside her, "I didn't get dumped. I broke up with her."

"Yeah, right," he scoffs, "When your friend gets dumped..." Stiles pulls out a bottle of Jack Daniels from his backpack. "You get your best friend drunk."

The three teens find a spot in a clearing, Scott and Penelope using the conveniently placed boulders as a bench, Stiles sitting on the ground below them. He drank much heavier than Scott, and Penelope wasn't drinking at all. When the bottle was a quarter of the way empty, Stiles squinted at her.

"Nelly, I know you're technically a girl-" ("Wow, thanks," she interjected.) "-but you're still a part of boys night, so drink." He pushed the bottle into her hands, and she grimaced at it, a sour feeling pulling in her gut. "You know I don't like dark liquor," she whimpered, pouting at Stiles. But he just looked at her expectantly, and Scott wasn't offering much support either, so she took a too-courageous swig of the liquid. Once she swallowed, she coughed and sputtered, both boys laughing at her, and she felt a large hand rubbing her back, Scott's fingers slightly teasing below the hem of her sweater and onto the skin of her back. Penelope blushed, grinning at him, handing him the bottle which he declined before giving it to Stiles.

The night continued like this, Stiles and Penelope passing the bottle back and forth, the main objective of getting Scott drunk seemingly forgotten. But Penelope was having fun for the first time in a while, and she wanted to take advantage of it. She and Stiles laug, the giggles uncontrollable.

"Dance with me, m'lady," he bows, speaking in a posh British accent, and holds out a hand to her. Nelly takes it and laughs as the air is sucked from her lungs when Stiles immediately spins her in a circle.

"Too fast! Too fast!" she shouts as he slows their pace, and they tumble to the ground, Stiles laying in front of the rock Scott is perched on, and Penelope sits at his feet, noticing that they'd collectively drank two-thirds of the bottle.

Scott is gazing at the fire solemnly, and Stiles calls out, "Dude, she's one girl. There are plenty more girls in the sea."

Scott sighs, correcting the boy, "Fish in the sea."

"What? Why are you talking about fish? I'm talking about girls. Especially ones with blonde hair, gray eyes, five foot..." Stiles muses.

"Like Penelope?" He scoffs, causing Penelope's eyes to snap to her boyfriend.

Stiles looks so wasted. "How did you know I was talking about, wait, no, I wasn't... What was I talking about?" He eyes Scott carefully, "You don't look happy. Drink.

"I don't want anymore."

"You're not drunk?" Stiles questions.

"I'm not anything," Scott stares into the fire, the glow from the flames flickering over his face, and Penelope places a hand discreetly on his ankle, getting his attention. "What's wrong?" she asked softly. Scott's gaze softens when his eyes meet hers and he shakes his head, "I'm okay."

"Maybe it's like not needing your inhaler anymore. Maybe you can't get drunk. Am I drunk?" They hear Stiles ask, but ignore him. "Dude, I know it feels bad. But you gotta' remember. As much as being broken up hurts... being alone is even worse. Wait a minute. That didn't come out right. I need another drink." He reaches for the bottle again, but a hand grabs it first. Stiles steps back, looking up in surprise at two older twenty-somethings.

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