Gracie Hale, the youngest Hale
child, just wanted to finish her
sophomore year in peace. But
that all changes when Scott
McCall becomes a werewolf.
Disclaimer: Be aware of mature
language and violence.
( 𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘰𝘭𝘧: 𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘯𝘦...
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˗ˏˋ⋆ H E A V E N L Y ⋆ˎˊ˗ ↳ 𝒙𝒗𝒊𝒊𝒊. 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒏𝒐 𝒎𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒄𝒆 𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘰𝘭𝘧, 𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘯𝘦
(𝔏𝔲𝔫𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔠)
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"WHERE ARE WE GOING?" SCOTT COMPLAINED AS HE FOLLOWED Stiles through the main campsite of the Beacon Hills Preserve.
"You'll see," was all the Stilinski boy said.
"'Cause we really shouldn't be out here," Scott stated. "My mom is in a constant state of freak-out from what happened at the school."
Stiles scoffed. "Well, your mom isn't the sheriff, okay? There's no comparison, trust me."
"Can you at least just tell me what we're doing out here?"
"Yes," Stiles gave in. "When your best friend gets dumped--"
"--I didn't get dumped," Scott defended. "We're taking a break."
"All right, well, when your best friend gets told by his girlfriend that they're taking a break..." Stiles grinned and turned around, pulling the whiskey out of his jacket to show Scott. "You get your best friend drunk."
After an hour went by, the bottle was more than halfway gone. Scott had drunk nearly half of the bottle on his own, feeling no effect from the alcohol whatsoever, while Stiles drank a quarter of it and was totally wasted.
"Dude, you know, she's just one-one girl," he slurred. "You know, there are so many-there are so many other girls in the sea."
Scott, annoyed by the fact that he was the one who was supposed to be drunk, rolled his eyes. "Fish in the sea."
"Fish?" Stiles gave him a confused look. "Why you talking about fish? I'm talking about girls. I love girls. I love 'em. I love especially ones with strawberry blond hair, green eyes, five-foot-three," he rambled on with a wistful smile.
Scott glanced down at him. "Like Lydia?"
"Yeah, exactly!" Stiles exclaimed. "Hey, how did you know I was talking about-about...what was I talking about?"
Scott didn't answer, causing Stiles to look over at him again. He saw the grumpy look on his best friend's face and frowned.
"Hey, you're not happy," Stiles pointed out, rolling over to pick up the whiskey he rested down. "Take a drink."
