CHAPTER TWELVE
FAR TOO SAPPY
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Sappy romance and crushes weren't my thing.
I wasn't the kind of person who spent hours dreaming up situations where they get married to their crush. I didn't cover all my notebooks in heart with our names in the middle. I didn't Facebook stalk guys. I didn't blatantly stare at them during class. I didn't dress in revealing clothes to get them to like me. I didn't walk faster in the hallway just to get next to them. I didn't—you get the picture.
In my short years on this Earth, I had only had a few crushes, all of them lasting a month or so. I had one "serious" boyfriend, Jackson. And I only counted him as serious because that was my only relationship that was longer than a week. I'd been on plenty of dates, all of them lacrosse players or swimmers.
But none of them had held my attention for long enough. Most of them, especially in Jackson's case, used me as a pastime. Someone they thought they could get some action out of. Or some of them had just been plain weird. I went on a date with one guy and all he would talk about was his dead goldfish. It was a tad unnerving.
If you're keeping up with me, I don't go gaga and starry eyed when I liked a guy. It just wasn't who I was.
So when I woke up and my first though was Stiles, I was decently surprised. Every single revelation I had last night swum into my thoughts, all vying for my attention. My stomach exploded with a batch of butterflies as I sat up.
I ran a hand through my bed head and bit my lip, trying to stop the smile that was trying to work its way onto my face. I had just realized that I liked the guy. There was no way that I could already be freaking out about him like this already.
And if I was acting like this when he wasn't even around, what would I act like when he was actually with me? We were best friends and feeling this way was crazy. I had never had a crush on my best friend before. Scott because he wasn't my type at all and Lydia because she was well...too Lydia. I had never thought that I would fall for Stiles of all people.
It wasn't that there was anything was wrong with him—it definitely wasn't that. But it was the fact that I had spent practically my entire life with him. Almost every single memory that I have, he was there in it. Well, Scott was in them too, but I didn't have a crush on him. It was weird thinking that I had a crush on Stiles. That all of a sudden, he was capable of making my stomach a warzone and my cheeks forever colored a cherry red.
This was Stiles Stilinski, the boy with the unpronounceable first name. The guy who made lame jokes and was fluent in sarcasm. The guy who listened in on his dad's work calls to drag me and Scott on weird adventures. The guy who through my Barbie doll out the window—still not over that. The guy who dunked my ponytail in milk when we were four and I wasn't looking.
The guy who was currently plaguing my thoughts with his voice, eyes, everything.
"I'm going crazy," I muttered. "Boy crazy."
Today was going to be a very long day.
An hour later, I was almost entirely ready. I slipped my shoes on while stumbling into my kitchen. I shoved a piece of bread into the toaster and began rifling through my bag. Once I was positive that I had all my homework, I let out a sigh of relief. That relief was short lived as the metal clang signaled my toast was done.
"Jesus," I muttered, retrieving my breakfast. I could deal with werewolves and dead bodies, but I could not deal with toast popping out of the toaster. I began ripping pieces of toast off and shoving them very animal-like into my mouth. What? I was hungry.
Three consecutive beeps outside made me jump for the second time this morning. Still eating, I slung my bag onto my shoulder before making my way to the door. I stood on my tip toes and glanced outside. Stiles infamous blue jeep was parked in my driveway.
Almost instantly, butterflies were set loose into my stomach region. I quickly wiped a hand over my mouth, brushing excess crumbs off my face. Running a hand through my hair, I exited my house. I quickly locked my door, before heading to his car. I opened the passenger door, threw my bag in the back, and climbed in.
"Hi." That was all I could manage after I shut the door behind me. I buckled my seatbelt, and folded my hands in my lap.
I've known the guy for almost thirteen years and I couldn't even articulate a full sentence around him. But then again, I didn't like him before.
"Hey," he smiled, hazel eyes shining.
He shifted into reverse, before backing out. We hit the street and took off in the direction of the school. We spent the first ten minutes in silence. Unlike all our other silences, this one had a blanket of awkward thrown on top, all itchy and unnerving. I didn't know how to act around him anymore. I wondered if he thought something was wrong. I was usually more talkative than this. I wanted to slap myself for acting like such an idiot. How could I be getting so worked up over a guy I've known my entire life?
"My dad got another call last night," he said suddenly, a grim expression covering his face. "It was about the driver. They said he succumbed to his wounds."
I instantly shot up, my head snapping in his direction. "He died?" I asked incredulously.
He nodded.
"Did you tell Scott?" I asked.
"I went to his house last night. He didn't know what succumb meant and his mom tried to beat me with a bat."
I chuckled at the thought of Mrs. McCall going after him with a bat. "No one in that house even plays baseball," I pointed out.
He shrugged. "That's what I said. I left a little bit after. I think he went to see Derek. Probably got himself hurt as usual."
I chuckled a little. "He deserves it after last night," I muttered, not thinking to fondly of my blind date.
He raised an eyebrow at me, before looking back at the road. "What happened last night?"
"He took me on his 'hang out' with Allison," I said. "Got me stuck on a date."
The car slightly jerked as he stopped. After hitting the seat, I threw my hands out in a 'what the hell' gesture. He quickly resumed driving.
"You went on a d-date?" he stuttered. As his eyes flashed to mine for a split second, I swore I saw sadness. But then again, I was never good at reading people.
"Yeah," I responded unsurely. "With Tom, some douchebag pretty boy from the lacrosse team. He was like a mini Jackson. Weirdo kept trying to find an excuse to put his hands on me."
Stiles knuckles turned a shade paler as he gripped the steering wheel. "So...you don't think you'll go on another date with him?"
I let out a sarcastic laugh. "I will the day Derek stops showing up out of nowhere."
He looked slightly relieved at that. He made an abrupt turn, pulling into the parking lot.
"Oh joy," I muttered sarcastically as he went to find a parking space. "Hell on Earth here we come."
Stiles only smirked. And here go the butterflies.
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I was sitting beside Stiles in class, doodling in my notebook. Nothing that was going on in this room was really holding my attention.
"If Derek's not the alpha and he's not the one that bit you, who did?" Stiles asked Scott suddenly, hitting with his pencil.
Scott shifted in his seat slightly; he was more focused on the teacher passing back tests. "I don't know."
"Did the Alpha kill the bus driver?" Stiles questioned.
"I don't know."
Stiles sat back, letting out a sigh. His eyes widened as another question popped into his head. "Does Allison's dad know about the—"
"I don't know!" Scott shouted, causing everyone to look back at him. I bit my lip to keep from laughing.
The teacher handed our tests back. A big red A sat on the top of Stiles' and my own. Sadly for Scott, his was marked with a D- along with a note.
Stiles leaned forward. "Dude, you need to study more."
Scott let out an aggravated sigh. I shot Stiles a look. "Really?"
"Okay, obviously that was a joke," he told us. "Scott, it's one test, you're gonna make it up."
I nodded. "Yeah, you want help studying?" I offered.
He sighed. He was doing a lot of sighing lately. "No, I'm studying with Allison after school today."
At the mention of Miss Argent, I smirked. "Oo la la."
Stiles eyebrows shot up. "That's my boy."
"We're just studying," he told us.
"Uh, no you're not," Stiles told him sternly.
"We're not?" Scott asked, obviously confused.
"Not if I'm forced to live vicariously through you," Stiles whispered, making me snort with laughter. He shot me a grin.
"Wasn't aware Scotty getting it on was turn on for you, Stiles," I smirked.
He rolled his eyes. He looked back at Scott. "If you go over her house today and squander that opportunity, I swear to God, I'll have you de-balled."
I rolled my eyes.
"Okay," Scott said, eyes flitting around to make sure no one had heard. "Just...stop with the questions."
"Done, no more questions," Stiles promised. "No more talk about the Alpha. Or Derek. Especially Derek, who still scares me."
I laughed. Maybe today wouldn't be so bad.
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Towards the end of the day, I was walking with Allison and Lydia. Allison had told us all about her little 'study date' with Scott and of course Lydia had a lot to say about it.
"Scott's coming over? Tonight?" Lydia asked.
"We're just studying together," Allison smiled.
"Just studying never ends with just studying," Lydia replied, looking to me for back up.
I nodded with a smirk. "It's like...getting into a hot tub. Somebody eventually cops a feel."
"Well, so what are you saying," Allison asked as we began heading up the stairs.
Lydia halted. "I'm just saying...make sure he covers up."
Allison was clearly lost.
"Hello, Snow White," Lydia said, thinking it was obvious.
"She means a condom," I laughed, shaking my head at the strawberry blonde.
Allison let out a laugh. "Are you kidding? After one date?"
"Don't be total prudes," Lydia advised, sending me a look as well. "Just give a little taste."
"Well, how much is a little taste?" Allison asked nervously, eyes flitting to me for a non-riddle answer.
"Don't ask me," I said, putting my hands up.
Lydia nodded. "Carson's just as much a virgin as you are."
Allison balked as I rolled my eyes. "Thank you, Lydia, for announcing our innocence to half the school."
"Well, you are technically on your way," she noted with a nod.
"Excuse me?" I asked.
She cocked her head to the side. "The one with the plaid shirt."
"Stiles?" I asked incredulously. "I'm not having sex with Stiles, Lydia!" I said, my cheeks warming.
"Oh my God," Allison squealed. "You like him!" Lydia simply smirked.
"I do not!" I whined. My cheeks gave me way as more blood pooled beneath the surface.
"You totally do!" Allison smiled. "Your blush says all!"
I looked around quickly while making sure no one we knew was in listening distance. Lydia was one of my best friends and Allison was on her way to being added to that list. I could trust them right? "Okay, so maybe I have a teensy tiny crush on him. Is that weird?"
Allison shook her head. "It's freaking adorable."
"If you like sappy 'I fell for my best friend' love stories," Lydia shrugged as the bell rang.
"Crap," I muttered as the sea of students began swarming towards lockers and the exit. "I have to go, Stiles is giving me a ride home."
"Oo," Allison smirked. I rolled my eyes as I walked away.
I headed back down the stairs, making my way to the exit. I saw a familiar buzz cut and began jogging to catch up.
"Stiles!" I called out, causing his head to whip around.
He had barely made it through the double doors when he saw me. A giant grin spread across his face. "Oh yeah, I'm taking you home."
I simply rolled my eyes at him. "Like you'd forget me," I scoffed as I reached him.
"Well, if you weren't so slow," he teased as we walked down the front steps.
"Excuse me for being wearing heels. We can't all be tall and I'd rather not be a munchkin compared to everyone."
"I think your heights adorable," he blurted out. As his words settled in, he awkwardly coughed.
"Thanks," I mumbled, looking towards my shoes. My cheeks would think it was an appropriate time to become tomato like.
We walked the rest of the way in silence, trying to get over the awkwardness that had just unfolded. My head was racing with questions. Did he mean it? What did he mean by it? Does he like me? I stole a quick glance and almost slapped myself. No; there was no way he liked me. We were just friends.
Oh my God, I've been friend zoned, I thought, horrified. I got over it quickly as I smacked into the tail end of his Jeep.
"Shit," I muttered, stumbling back.
A loud laugh was heard. "Nicely done, Bradley. Nicely done."
I narrowed my eyes at him. "Screw you, Stilinski." He stuck his tongue out me and my frown pulled upwards into a smile; I couldn't stay mad at him.
Without trying to make a fool of myself—again—I got into his Jeep and threw my bag in the back. Stiles quickly got in and turned the ignition on. Without a word, he pulled out of his space. He drove forward, but it didn't last. We had barely made it five feet.
With on hand raised, Derek Hale walked right into our path.
Stiles slammed on his brakes, slamming me back into the seat.
"Oh my God," Stiles let out.
My eyes were locked onto the elder werewolf as he passed out onto the ground. Cars behind us began beeping.
"You gotta be kidding me, this guy's everywhere," Stiles said, gaining a slight chuckle from me.
Out of nowhere, Scott appeared on the ground next to Derek. With a sigh, I unbuckled myself and quickly got out. Stiles followed my lead and we hovered over the two werewolves.
Derek wasn't looking so good. His skin was a sickly pale and he was breathing heavy. Not to mention the fact he passed out in a parking lot.
"What are you doing here?" Scott asked him.
"I was shot," Derek huffed out.
Stiles eyes widened. "He's not looking so good dude."
"No shit Sherlock," I muttered at him with a smirk.
Scott eyes darted all over Derek with a frown. "Why aren't you healing?"
"I can't," Derek wheezed, sounding much like Scott during an asthma attack. You know, back when he used to have them. "It was a different kind of bullet."
"A silver bullet?" Stiles exclaimed with a little too much excitement. I swatted his arm gently.
"No you idiot," Derek snapped.
"Wait, wait," Scott interrupted them. "That's what she meant when she said you had forty eight hours."
Derek's eyes shot to him. "What? Who—who said forty eight hours?"
"The one who shot you," Scott whispered.
Without warning, Derek's eyes flashed blue. Snapping them shut, he cringed and reopened them. Almost as quick as the color had come, it disappeared again. And then it happened again repeatedly. The color kept changing and Scott was beginning to freak.
"What are you doing?" he whisper shouted as he looked around. "Stop that!"
"That's what I'm trying to tell you: I can't," Derek hissed violently.
As more beeping went on, I looked down the row of cars. Drivers clearly wanted to get out of here. My eyes widened as Allison and Jackson got out of their cars.
"Derek, get up," Scott said through his teeth.
"Uh, Scott?" I asked. "Yeah, girlfriend and the asshole are on the move."
Scott craned his neck around Stiles Jeep, eyes widening. He hastily put his arms under Derek's, and hefted him up.
"Help me put him in your Jeep," he told Stiles. Stiles raised an eyebrow as Scott placed Derek in my previous seat.
"Why should I help you?" Scott practically shouted at Derek. Derek had told him where to get the bullet; the Argents. Apparently, he needed another one to heal.
"Because you need me," Derek said with a hint of sincerity on his voice.
"Fine, I'll try," Scott said as Stiles and I ran around the side. I quickly scrambled into the back and Stiles got into his seat.
"No matter what day it is, I always end up in the back," I moaned.
"Get him out of here," Scott told us.
Stiles groaned, turning the car back on. "I hate you for this so much."
As we peeled out of the parking lot, Stiles and I exchanged a look in the rearview. I knew exactly what he was thinking.
A day with Derek Hale, who was currently dying. I'd rather have detention with Harris.
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"What the hell are we supposed to do with him?" I asked Scott.
We were parked on the side of the road, Stiles and Derek glaring at each other every so often. It was dark out now and we had finally gotten a hold of Scott. He had been "studying" with Allison and had been somehow dragged into a family dinner. With hunters.
"Take him somewhere," Scott whispered over the phone. "Anywhere."
"By the way," Stiles began, yanking my phone hand towards him. "He's starting to smell."
"Like what?" Scott asked, as Derek glared at us.
"Like death," Stiles groaned as I yanked the phone back towards me.
"Okay, just take him to the animal clinic," Scott told me after a moment.
I raised an eyebrow. "What about Deaton?"
"He's gone by now," Scott promised. "There's a spare key in the box behind the dumpster."
I sighed, before handing the phone to Derek. "You're not going to believe where he wants us to take you."
Derek retrieved the phone. "Did you find it?"
"How am I supposed to find one bullet? They have a million," I heard Scott cry out. "This place like the freaking Wal-Mart of guns!"
I let out a small snort at that. Allison's family was a bunch of gun nuts. Who would have guessed?
Derek and Scott fought back a forth for a while, Derek trying to reign Scott in with tales of how he's teach him or something.
Derek handed the phone back to me with a small nod.
"To the animal clinic," I told Stiles.
With a grumble, he put the Jeep in drive.
Ten minutes later, Derek was slinging off his shirt as we made our way into the clinic's operating room. A giant spiral looking tattoo adorned his back. He leant up against the table in the middle, his arm bloody with veins.
"You know," Stiles began. "That doesn't really look like anything some Echinacea and a good night's sleep couldn't fix."
I rolled my eyes. "The man's dying, Stiles."
"Your girlfriend's right. Once the infection reaches my heart, it'll kill me."
My eyes widened. And not just at his own diagnosis. Did everyone think we were dating?
"Positivity just isn't in your vocabulary, is it?" Stiles asked, completely ignoring the false labels Derek had slammed onto us. Not that I minded.
"If he doesn't get here with the bullet in time," Derek panted. "Last resort."
His back was too us as he raided Deaton's vet stuff.
"Which is?" Stiles and I chorused.
He turned around, a saw in hand. "You're going to cut off my arm."
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Stiles and I did not end up having to do any arm chopping. Scott showed up with the bullet.
It was a bit of a struggle getting to the actual healing. Derek passed out at one point, dropping the bullet down the drain. But Scott got it out and Stiles got to punch Derek in the face. It was a win-win.
When Derek did cure himself, it was a lot of agonizing looking pain. He had shoved the bullet's powder into his arm, creating a blue light. In the end, Derek survived, unfortunately. Just kidding. Kind of.
I was once again in Stiles passenger seat as he drove me home. As we sat in silence, one thought kept buzzing through my mind. What was Stiles reaction to Derek thinking I was his girlfriend?
"Here we are," Stiles smiled as we stopped in front of my house.
I grabbed my bag from the backseat, but didn't have any intention of getting out. "So..."
"So..." he repeated in the same tone, his slightly more mocking.
"Derek thinks we're a couple apparently," I said, laughing nervously to hide my worry about his response.
"Yeah..."
"That's like, um, totally weird, right?" I asked, trying to play it off.
He shrugged, a tad nervously though. "He's psycho, so whatever. You and I know it'd never happen."
I never thought it was possible to hear heart seams tear.
"Never?" I echoed quietly, looking at my lap.
"W-well, I-I mean, we're best friends. That's it, r-right?"
Best friends. That's all we'll ever be.
I bit my lip, but forced a nod. "Yeah. Right. I'm gonna go."
I didn't wait for a response. I got out and slammed the door shut. Stiles must have thought the day was getting to me.
He didn't know I was pretty much fighting back tears all the way to the door.
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