**Disclaimer** Guys, I'm going to let you in on a little secret: I DON'T OWN TEEN WOLF.
~~STILES POV~~
"She just freaked out and then ran off," I told Scott about what happened in my jeep with Emma earlier. We were waiting in the parking lot of the ice rink for the girls to get here. "I have no idea what happened."
"Did she say anything?" He asked.
"Other than screaming at me to stop the car and let her out? No," I said. I let out a heavy sigh. "And I really thought we were getting somewhere when she agreed to let me take her home."
I'm at a total loss of what to do anymore. Every time I look at her I get this pain in my chest and all I wanted to do is run over and take her into my arms, but I can't. I can't kiss her whenever I want or talk to her on the phone for hours about superheroes or the last book she read. All of that went along with her memory.
"When did Eric say he was leaving?" Scott asked.
"The earliest flight he could find isn't until Sunday," I said.
Scott groaned and I couldn't help but agree. I wanted more news on Emma as soon as possible. I need to know that there have been instances like this before and that everything turned out okay. I need to know that Emma will regain her memory and we can be together again. I never realized how much she really meant to me until she was gone.
We saw Allison's familiar Mazda pull up and got out of my jeep to greet the girls. I grabbed my backpack and the keys I had to buy from Boyd. This little 'hang out' or whatever it is better be worth it because it cost me fifty freaking dollars.
I'm not sure which it worse, Emma looking at me with dislike or avoiding looking at me altogether. All I know is that they both equally suck. I used to always be able to catch her staring at me and then she would quickly glance away all embarrassed. Making her blush is one of my favorite things. Nothing gave me more satisfaction than sending the blood rushing to her cheeks.
Emma was sort of hiding herself behind Allison, though she was about an inch taller. Maybe having Allison invite her was a bad idea. It's stupid to think that a little figure skating could make all of her memories rush back to her.
After letting everyone in, Scott and I went and got everybody a pair of skates. Emma was sitting a few rows up from Allison and Lydia, hugging her knees to her chest. Her nose was a delicate shade of pink and I had to fight off the urge to kiss it.
"Here," I said, handing her a pair of skates in her size. Without looking me in the eye, she gave a soft smile and took the skates. She slipped off her boots and replaced them with the used white skates I snatched from the storage room.
She shivered as she laced them up. I could tell that she looked cold. Her thin grey cardigan wasn't much for warmth in a place covered in ice. I dug into my bag and pulled out a spare bright orange jacket and offered it to her.
"No thanks," she said. Her voice was quiet and she looked extremely uncomfortable that I was sitting next to her. I gave a defeated sigh and shoved the jacket back into my bag.
I then dug back in and pulled out some Reese's peanut butter cups and held them out to her. Cocking an eyebrow and wearing a gentle smile, I said, "Peace offering?"
She eyed the candy suspiciously. I knew she was analyzing whether or not accepting the candy was worth the pride of acknowledging me. Finally, she gave a shrug and snatched the candy out of my hand. I smiled to myself. Maybe we are getting somewhere.
I laced up my own skates, watching the way she delicately bit into the chocolate-covered peanut butter treat out of the corner of my eye. I think she knew I was watching her, but she still refused to look me in the eye. I wondered if it was because of her little episode in my jeep earlier. As much as I want to, I knew better than to press her on the matter. Maybe if I keep quiet she'll see that I'm not pushing so hard to be in her life.
Scott and Allison took to the ice. You would think that being a werewolf and all ice skating should be no problem for Scott, but I've just watched him fall flat on his ass twice now. I guess the heightened abilities made an exception to ice skating.
"Come on, Emma," said Lydia. She extended her hand out to help her down and led her onto the ice, shooting me a look over her shoulder. I groaned and made my way onto the rink as well.
While Allison was trying to help Scott manage to at least stay on his feet, Lydia was off doing tricks and spins like she'd been doing them her whole life. Emma was watching her with awe so I moved to stand next to her, my ankles wobbling slightly on my journey over to her. Her thick-rimmed glasses were fogging up from the cold.
She removed them from the bridge of her nose and wiped them clean with the end of her cardigan before replacing them. She jumped when she looked up with them on to see me standing next to her. I couldn't help the smirk on my lips.
"She's pretty good," I said, referring to Lydia.
Emma was silent for a moment, watching Lydia tuck herself into another marvelous spin. Where did she even learn how to do that? Then, to my surprise, Emma actually started a conversation with me.
"I remember ice skating," she said. "But never who I did it with or when. It's like the memory is there, but all of the details have been erased. That's how it is with a lot of things; nothing ever comes out quite clear."
I didn't know what to say back to her. I wanted to kiss her, but then again I always want to kiss her. Nothing that I could say would be the right thing. So, I stood, at a loss. I almost grabbed her hand, I was only an inch away, but I decided against it, just as I had earlier before she agreed to let me take her home.
After a few long moments of silence, I could no longer tolerate the quiet. "I'm sorry about getting you detention the other day, I really am."
For the first time tonight she looked me in the eyes. I felt my heart swell up in my chest as I caught a good glimpse of her blue eyes. They're dark, almost navy, and I've never seen anything more beautiful.
"I know," she said.
She turned around to skate away from me, but her blade slipped on the ice. I caught her in my arms with ease. Even though I knew she was cold, her body felt warm against mine. I was reminded of the time she let Lydia dress her up for school and she stumbled in her heels and straight into my arms. It was from that moment on I made the promise to myself to always be there to catch her when she falls.
More memories of that day trickled into my mind. It was the full moon, and Scott had kissed Lydia. At that point, my feelings for Lydia had lessened and I was focused more on Emma, but that didn't mean I wasn't pissed at Scott for doing it. Besides that, it was the night that I kissed Emma for the first time. Hell, it was the night I kissed anyone for the first time. I felt a sudden pang of guilt that I could remember all of this and Emma couldn't.
I helped her settle back onto her feet. I kept my hands on her arms, not wanting to break our touch. For some reason I had a hope that maybe it would spark some kind of memory for her. That, and I just didn't want to let her go. I was being teased with touch.
"Um, thanks," she said. Her voice was timid and embarrassed. That sounded like the same Emma I caught in the hallways what I couldn't believe had been a month ago.
She lifted her arm to run a hand through her hair and my eyes were drawn to the area of stomach that was exposed in the gap between her top and her navy skirt. It wasn't because of my male teenage hormones, though it may have had a little to do with it, but the fact that her skin was completely smooth.
I reached out a hand to examine it further, but Emma slapped it away. "What are you doing?"
"Oh...uh, your stomach it's..." I didn't have a clever excuse as to why I was trying to see further underneath her shirt.
"Why is everybody so obsessed with my stomach lately?" She said, tugging her shirt down over the exposed area of skin.
"Wait, what do you mean 'everybody'?" I asked her.
"Eric was being weird about it the other day too," she said. "Am I missing something?"
Oh if only she knew. If only she knew that she is, in fact, missing a very prominent scar that happened to be the only thing of hers that never healed when she had her abilities. But how the hell does a bite mark like that just disappear? This whole situation gets weirder everyday.
"No, I'm sorry...it's just - " I stopped mid-sentence because of the look that crossed Emma's face. Her eyes went hazy and the color drained from her skin. She looked sick. "Emma? Are you - ?"
Without warning, she turned to the side and fell onto her knees, vomiting all over the ice. From behind me I could hear Lydia screaming, on her knees as well. What the hell was going on? I looked back to Emma and almost threw up myself when I saw the purple leaves she had just puked out. Only, they aren't just purple flowers. That was wolfsbane.
Scott and Allison came running back out onto the ice from the photo booth and stared with wide eyes at the scene playing out around me. I rubbed Emma's back as she let out another hurl and more purple vomit spurled out onto the ice. Something was definitely not right.
Emma wiped her mouth with the back of her sleeve and looked up at me. Her eyes were watering and terrified. I haven't seen her that scared since our encounter with Peter the night of the dance. The same night she lost her memory.
"What's happening to me?" She asked. There was a plea in her voice, and it nearly shattered my heart.
The worst part was, I didn't have an answer.
☾
~~EMMA POV~~
Allison had driven Lydia and I home after our little episodes on the ice. It was the most stale and silent drive, although I don't have much to compare it to. No one said a word because no one knew what the hell happened.
I threw up purple flowers. How is that even possible? It's not like I've eaten any strange, purple herbs lately. Today has just been one strange series of events. First my little fit in Stiles' jeep and then this? I must have really hit my head.
I'd only been home a few minutes when I heard a knock on my window. Who the hell would be knocking on my second floor window at ten o'clock at night? Curious, I walked over to it and pulled back the curtain. I almost had a heart attack when I saw the familiar head of curls crouched on my roof.
"Isaac?" I questioned, opening up the window so that he could climb inside.
"Is anyone else home?" He asked. He peered around my room, obviously a bit on edge.
"I don't think so, why?" I said.
He smiled at me and I felt my insides tie themselves into knots. "Well I am sort of a fugitive,"
I gave a small laugh. I felt kind of bad, with everything going on with Stiles I'd put Isaac out of my mind. He was the one person I felt a genuine like for and I'd been practically ignoring him. Then again, it's not like I've been able to have much contact with him.
"Right," I said.
He shut the window and took a few steps closer to me. I swear I stopped breathing for a moment. I tried to swallow but my throat had gone dry.
"I didn't do it," he said slowly.
"I believe you,"
A look of surprise and relief flashed across his face. "You do?"
I smiled at him and shortened the distance between us. I placed my hand on his arm. "You don't look like the murdering type to me,"
He gave an uncomfortable smile. Things have to be rough on him, losing his dad like that. I wish I remembered what losing my mother was like so I could give him some advice. I just want to do something to help him.
"How have you been coping?" I asked.
"Coping?" His eyes went wide and a worried look crossed his face.
I furrowed my eyebrows at him. "With losing your dad?"
He let out a breath. "Oh, fine I guess,"
"Your dad was murdered. You are not fine," I said. He attempted to smile before his face fell. I immediately felt bad for being so blunt about his father's death. I wrapped my arms around his torso and hugged him. I didn't know how else to make him feel better. "I'm sorry,"
"No, it's okay," he said. He pulled back and held me at arms length. "He was a crappy dad anyways,"
"But he was still your dad,"
He nodded. "Do we have to talk about my dad? I came here to get my mind off of all of that,"
"Oh," I said. My heart swelled up in my chest. "Of course not. What do you want to talk about?"
He smiled at me, creating dimples on his cheeks that made my entire body go light. Every time I look at him it feels like I'm floating. I remember the idea of getting butterflies in your stomach, but never feeling any, at least until now.
"You," he said.
"Me?" I couldn't believe that anyone in their right mind would want to discuss me.
"Yes, you," he said, his smile widening.
There's nothing interesting about a girl who's lost her memory. I can't remember any stories to tell or things about myself to share. All of that is locked away deep in the back of my mind. Unless Isaac wants to hear about how I threw up purple flowers on an ice rink earlier. I guess that was pretty interesting.
"Well, the matter of myself is a topic I've been trying to avoid as well," I said.
He gave a soft laugh and said, "Then let's just talk."
And we did.
We sat side-by-side on the floor, leaning up against my bed and just talked. Our conversation drifted from lacrosse to school to things going on all over the world. There was never a lapse in conversation with him. Words just seemed to flow with ease.
Every now and then I would get lost just taking him in as he talked. Everything about him was just so...fascinating. From the way his eyebrow twitched when he smiled to how he would nervously look to his lap every time I laughed. Everything about him just seemed right.
Yet, for some damn reason, my mind kept wanting to drift back to Stiles. I had to keep reminding myself that I was with Isaac and that Stiles didn't matter, but the more I tried to push the thoughts away, the more he seemed to occupy them. I've been thinking about him a lot lately, and I don't know what to do about it.
Suddenly, Isaac broke his trail of words and glanced around my room. It was then that I realized we had been talking for nearly two hours. After a few moments he finally spoke again. "Your brother's home,"
I cocked an eyebrow, not seeing why Eric being home was such a big deal. Besides that, how did he even know that Eric was home? I didn't hear the door opening. "So?"
"Fugitive, remember?" He blinked nervously then gave a smile.
"Right," I said, his reminder sinking in.
He stood up and then helped me to my own feet. I followed him back over to the window he had climbed in from. "It was great talking to you, Emma,"
"You too," I said. I couldn't help the sad smile that crossed my face as he opened up the window. But I stopped him before he could climb back out. "Isaac, wait,"
He turned around and in one swift movement I gave him a peck on the cheek. A light pink colored the back of his neck and his lips curled into a smile - a real smile. I squeezed his wrist, not wanting him to leave, even though I know he has to. I wanted him to stay with me so we can just keep talking and keep distracting each other from all of the crappy things going on in our lives.
Still I said, "Goodnight,"
"Goodnight," he repeated.
I dropped his wrist and he glanced back at me one last time before climbing out the window and getting away from the house before anyone could spot him. I watched him run, feeling an ache in my chest before my thoughts once again drifted back to Stiles. Why does everything always have to go back to him?
☾
It was nearing three in the morning and I still couldn't sleep. I was tired, but I just felt restless. My mind just wouldn't quit thinking and I had the urge to get up and explore. So, I tiptoed out of my bedroom and navigated my way to the room my dad had refused to show me my first day back home. I was going to find out what he was hiding from me.
I was right, it wasn't a closet. It was like a personal library. There were four large bookshelves on the far side of the room, a painting hung in the middle of them on the wall. A large mahogany desk sat in the center of the room, completely clean of any books or papers. Why would my father want to keep an office a secret from me?
I strode over towards the bookshelves and started scanning the titles. It was not what I expected. I figured there would be books on finances or old encyclopedias, not mythology. The History of the Wolf; The Book of Werewolves: A Classic Study of Lycanthropy; Werewolves: Lore, Legend, and Lycanthropy; Women Who Run with the Wolves. Why the hell did we have a home library on lycanthropy? And why did it not feel as strange as it should have?
Out of curiosity, I pulled one of the books of the shelf and began reading through it. It talked about how a werewolf is a half-man half-wolf shape shifter created in the earliest days of witchcraft and folklore. First werewolves and now witchcraft?
What kind of a family would believe in this garbage?
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Thanks so much for reading!
Sorry that it's late and a bit short. I have had the worst past couple of days. First of all I had to go back to school on a Friday, then that morning I got a flat tire. Because I live in the middle of nowhere I had to walk a mile back to my house in the freezing cold. Luckily some old guy that I don't know drove by and gave me a ride home so I didn't have to walk too far.
Then my mom was screaming at me because apparently my bad luck with tires is all my fault and everything else that is shitty in this world is my fault too. And to top it all off now my grandma is in the hospital with heart troubles. How marvelous.
Anyways, I hope you liked this chapter. I don't really think it's up to my usual standard but I've just been so out of it lately. At least Teen Wolf comes back tomorrow. That's about all I've got going for me at this point.
Thanks again and don't forget to comment, vote, and follow!
GIF not mine.
xxoxoxoxoxoxoxox
-Alyssa