Maybe I Was Wrong (Teen Wolf: Stiles Stilinski)

Chapter 49

CHAPTER 49

Stiles and I watch as Scott crawls into the backseat of Stiles’ jeep, almost stepping on Jackson’s unconscious face in the process.

“And?” Stiles asks.

“Couldn't get anything out of Danny,” Scott sighs, checking to see Jackson’s still knocked out cold.

“Let’s just go,” I say, the flashing lights and sirens at the other end of the parking lot stressing me out.

“Yeah, before one of my dad's deputies sees me,” Stiles says, hitting the gas but slowing down as we near a blockage.

Because, well, we can’t exactly drive around the sheriff’s car and ignore it.

“That’s not just a deputy, is it?” I ask quietly, preparing for the oncoming shitstorm. Mr. Stilinski steps out of his car and looks at us, making Stiles cringe and sink back into his seat.

“Oh my god. Oh my god,” Stiles repeats, sinking lower. “Could this get any worse?”

In the seat behind him, Jackson lets out a confused grunt.

“That was rhetorical,” Stiles sneers.

“Get rid of him,” Scott orders.

“Get rid of him? We're at a crime scene, and he's the sheriff,” Stiles retorts.

“Do something!” Scott hisses, glancing back at Jackson who’s slowly waking up. The sheriff’s nearing the car, getting way too close to our homicidal friend in the back.

“Come with me,” Stiles mutters, and it takes seeing his eyes before getting out of the car for me to realise he said it in a pleading tone – and he said it to me.

So I get out of the car as well, following after him towards his dad, who looks less than pleased, to say the least.

“Hey,” Stiles greets his dad awkwardly.

“What're you doing here?” the sheriff asks bluntly.

“What do you mean what am I doing here? What? It's a club. It's a club, we were clubbing, you know? At the club,” Stiles rambles on.

Mr. Stilinski takes a look at the sign outside of the building with a smirk.

“Not exactly your type of club,” he says.

“About that…” I begin, struggling to come up with an excuse.

“Uh, well, dad,” Stiles takes over, looking down at the ground. “There's a conversation that we-“

“You're not gay,” the sheriff cuts him off.

“Wha- I could be,” Stiles says, offended.

“Not dressed like that,” Mr. Stilinski shakes his head.

“Sir, isn’t that a little close-minded?” I ask. “You’re saying that all-“

“That’s not what it’s about, Grace,” he snaps, catching me off-guard. After a tense moment of silence, he turns to Stiles.

“This is the second crime scene that you just happened to have shown up on. And at this point, I've been fed so many lies, I'm not sure I know the kid standing in front of me. Now, what the hell is going on?”

As if an angry sheriff wasn’t bad enough, I hear unnerving noises from the car, followed by a hard thump. When I look at the car, Scott sends me a quick nod before waving sheepishly at Stiles’ dad, who has turned to look as well.