Both of Us ▸ Stiles Stilinski (1)

xv. WOLF'S OUT OF THE BAG

This made me wonder what was so God damned special about Stiles. I had barely liked him for a week and already it had made me cry twice. I could practically feel my heart tearing along the same fault lines, all because of the same person. When I had met Stiles when we were four, never would I imagine the kind of hold he would have on me. Never would I have guessed he'd make me feel such a whirlwind of emotions. It was like a rollercoaster, this crush. One minute, he was making me blush and giggle and worry about the smallest things. Then he was making me feel pain and want to go drown in a tub of Chunky Monkey.

I didn't know what made me like him so much. How could I have spent almost thirteen years of my life, just completely ignoring everything that made him so likeable?

Between Stiles and other guys, no one could compare. As of now, Stiles had flooded my brain. It was like even if I tried to think about another guy, I'd just end up picking out the flaws they had; and Stiles was always the one I went back to. Like others weren't as adorably awkward as Stiles. Other guys weren't as sweet as him. Other guys weren't as attractive anymore. Their eyes weren't the right shade and their hair was too long.

No one could compare anymore. I was in too deep.

I looked at Allison and nodded once. I didn't need to say any words. There were no words to describe how I felt.

And I knew, that based on how I'd seen her around Scott, she would understand. Completely and unconditionally.

▴ ▿ ▴

I was walking down the hall to my next class when I saw a familiar mop of brown curls.

"Stay away from Jackson, stay away from Jackson," I heard Scott mumble.

From the other end of the hall, Lydia looked out of her locker. "Hey Scott!" she cried cheerfully.

"Oh come on!" Scott cried out, spinning around. I smiled with a roll of my eyes, jogging to catch up with him.

"Having trouble?" I asked while falling in step beside him.

He visibly jumped, before realizing it was me. "Jesus, Carson."

"Sorry," I laughed. "What's with the avoiding people?"

He looked around quickly, as if he was going to share a giant secret. "Derek said that I have to stay away from them until after the full moon. To protect them and stuff."

He grabbed my arm and yanked me in the direction of his locker. "You're listening to Derek. Why exactly?"

"Because he's the only one who can help!" Scott groaned. "If you can find another, nicer werewolf, let me know and I'll jump ships. But for now, he's all we got."

I nodded with a sigh as he spun his combination into the lock.

"Have you talked to Stiles at all?" Scott asked me.

I shook my head. I didn't really want to talk to him. I knew it was childish to be mad at him because he liked Lydia. But I was petty, to be quite honest.

"He hates me."

I shook my head. "He doesn't hate you."

"He hates me. It's my fault that his dad got hurt!" Scott exclaimed, yanking a thick text book out of his locker.

I shook my head. "You can't protect everyone. Stiles is just upset, but he knows it' not your fault."

"How is it not my fault?" Scott groaned. "Everything that's happened has been my fault!"