CHAPTER FIVE
A PROMISE OF FOREVER
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I fell back onto my bed with sigh.
"Okay. Is it just me or was today too eventful?" I asked, just lying there.
Too many things seemed to have happened in less than twenty four hours. We found out about a grave robbery, interrogated people, I waited for Stiles' to get out of detention. And then we crashed a funeral, got put in a cop car, broke out of aforementioned cop car and found my best friend who had been taking a naked stroll in the woods for four days without knowing. And I'm pretty sure I flunked that Chemistry test.
Stiles didn't say a word, just sat down on the edge of my bed. Even once he was perched on the end he remained in silence. For any other person, it might have been understandable. But this was Stiles. Stiles and silence don't go together any more than me and Chemistry class.
I sat up and scooted across my bed till I was next to him. He was just sitting there, not saying a word. He didn't even acknowledge me as I placed a concerned hand on his hands. He just stood straight ahead, eyes trained on my wall.
"Stiles?" I asked tentatively. What could be bothering him? "Babe?"
He didn't look at me, but he responded. "I'm fine...just thinking. Everything's changing so fast."
"What do you mean?" I asked, though I had a very good idea of where this was headed.
He gave me a disbelieving look. "You seriously don't think things have changed? Carson's we're surrounded by werewolves, we're finding dead bodies! Our best friend is a creature of the night, which is kinda cool except when it almost gets us killed. And now Lydia is...whatever the hell she is!"
"Hey," I started, grabbing his hand. "Yeah, things are slightly...okay a million times different than last year and all. But we can handle it. We've done pretty fan-freaking-tastic so far. I mean, we're still alive. And besides, some good things came out of it."
"Like what?" he muttered.
I rolled my eyes at his obliviousness. "Well, there's us. If you ask me, I think the whole werewolf thing really kick started the whole you telling me you're in love with me thing."
"The werewolf thing so did not kick start it," he exclaimed. "I was going to tell you eventually."
I giggled at his rapid hand movements. "Stiles, it took you eight years to tell me."
"Yeah, but I had a ten year plan that I was working with," he replied, holding up his ten fingers. "And it only took me eight of said ten!"
I giggled at the adorable display of fast paced movement and jumbled words. I chose not to speak, but rather bask in the thought of him loving me for so long. Once again, I was completely stunned by the fact that I had never noticed it. Thinking back on every memory of us that I could conjure up, it was so blatantly obvious that he had feelings for me. The stuttering, the meant-to-be-discreet glances, the crushed look on his face when I told him Jackson had kissed me and asked to be my boyfriend. The relieved face he had when we broke up. The way he always looked out for me. The fact that I never heard him talk about any girl, unless it was some girl in a movie.
I'd always thought of us as just best friends. That when I went out with a guy, his frustration was just him being a good friend. That his compliments were compliments. He was just my best guy friend, like Scott and our love for each other was only platonic. That the many times we told each other we loved each other back then was just platonic friendly words.
"What are you thinking about?" he asked, poking my side with a grin.
"Just thinking about how I never noticed that you liked me," I replied, looking at our entwined hands sitting on the bed. "God and I thought Scott was the oblivious one."
"Yeah, you were pretty much living under a rock," he joked and I swatted his arm playfully.
"Shut up," I grinned. "I know now."
He laughed. "Yeah, but you got about eight years of not knowing to make up for. And by then, I'll still be eight years ahead of you. Technically, I've been in this relationship for eight years longer than you have. I mean, once you hit eight years, I'll be at sixteen. And when you hit sixteen, then I'll be at twenty four. And then it just keeps going and going..."
I bit my lip. "You make it sound like we're going to be together forever," I said shyly.
He didn't look at me but managed to mumble out an answer. "I wouldn't mind that."
My cheeks filled up with a blush, the all-too familiar warmth coming back. And I greeted it as an old friend as I became slightly light headed. He really wanted to be with me that long? I didn't even have a clue with what I wanted to do with my life and he was already set on his future being with me?
I bit my lip as a grin threatened to break out on my face. I didn't know much about the future or what it was going to look like, but I didn't seem to think of any reason why Stiles wasn't going to be there by my side. I gulped as these thoughts filled my head. In most relationships, I would consider this too fast. But for some reason, it felt just right for us.
"I-I...I shouldn't have said that," Stiles said quickly. He dropped my hand. And started muttering curses at himself. "We can just pretend that didn't happen. I-I didn't mean to freak you out or anything. Oh God I'm an idiot," he rambled, beginning to stand up.
I gripped his hand and yanked him back down. He looked at me with wide eyes, shutting up instantly. "Stiles, calm down. It's fine."
"Y-You're not freaked out?" he asked. "It's not like too soon or anything? I mean, we already dropped the L bomb and everything but the whole forever thing—"
"Is adorable," I finished. "I mean, for some people it's probably insanely fast. But I'm not weirded out or anything like that. I think it's sweet."
He seemed to relax at that. He looked so adorable with his blush splotched cheeks and his hazel eyes seemed to shimmer as they lost the sense of anxiety. He ran one hand through his hair, which was starting to become slightly longer. It was taking everything I had not to kiss his brains out.
Then I remembered that my dad was out. Whether it be for another thing for work or he was just getting something to eat, we were alone. My door was shut. No parents, check; boyfriend looking oh so kissable, hell yes. The only thing wrong was me stopping myself from getting what I wanted.
"Hey, I think I have an idea how to earn some of those eight years," I said, sliding my hand down his plaid shirt clad bicep.
"I don't think you can attain years in one night, Carson," he laughed.
We'll see about that, I thought wryly.
Within seconds, I found myself crawling off my spot onto his lap. I sat facing him, both my legs on either side of his. I felt him freeze and I could see his Adam's apple bob. I smirked, pressing both my hands flat against his chest. I ran them down his shirt with a smirk. "I take that as a challenge."
I didn't give him time to respond before pressing my lips to his. As always, the usual sparks and fireworks set off when mine connected with his. I moved my hands up, clutching onto his shoulders as I moved my mouth against his. He barely moved a muscle, only his lips reacting to my touch. His hands were presumably at his side, having no idea what to do in this situation. Considering I was his first kiss and girlfriend, he had no clue whatsoever to do right now. I'm not saying that I had an inkling of what I was doing and that I made out with guys like this all the time. Because I did this on impulse, not really thinking it through when my mouth met his. But I wasn't regretting it.
I found myself losing myself in the moment. I was kissing him hungrily, like I'd never get the chance to do it again. But he put as much urgency into the kiss as I did. My hands were grazing themselves over his short hair. There was nothing for me to grab onto, which was fine. But it did get me thinking about what he would look like longer hair. The last time he had longish hair, we were thirteen. That was a bad year for hair, considering that was also the year I decided that I wanted highlights. It was a whole ordeal.
I broke away from Stiles, gasping for air. My forehead was pressed against his as we tried to suck in the oxygen. He was staring wide eyed, shock swimming in his hazel irises.
"W-What was that?" he gasped.
"Part one of me making up eight years," I smirked.
His eyes only seemed to get wider. "P-Part o-one? T-There's more?"
"Is that bad?" I giggled, running my hands over the nape of his neck.
I giggled some more as he gulped. I began pressing kisses down his jaw, heading to his neck like he had done with me. I sucked lightly on the skin right under his jaw and he inhaled sharply. "I-I'm p-perfectly okay with this."
"Good," I whispered, continuing to suck on the soft skin. I could feel him gulp and his breathing started getting shallow. He let out a gasp, which was then followed by a fairly loud breathy moan.
I pulled back with a grin. "I'm assuming I'm doing well so far?"
He gave me a look. "No, you're doing horrible," he said sarcastically, before pushing his lips back against mine.
This time he seemed to be more relaxed, his hands gripping my hips tightly. I grinned into it as his tongue tickled my bottom lip. I opened as quickly as every other time this had happened. My hands fumbled, pushing his plaid shirt off his shoulder and down his arms. He let go of me to remove it completely before reattaching his hands. I began slipping my hands under his shirt before pulling that up too. He pulled back and let me remove it.
I grinned at him in his shirtless glory. God, he was hot. I kissed him fiercely again. A fire seemed to be igniting in my mind, sparks exploding from every corner of our lips. I had no idea how it had gotten this far as I ran my hands up his bare stomach and chest. I knew I wasn't ready to go far but at this point I couldn't stop. I wanted every part of him. It was crazy. But I wanted crazy.
His hands began creeping up my shirt. They were just passing my navel heading—
"Na na na na na Batman! Na na na na na Batman!"
I pulled back from him, gasping down a lungful of air before bursting into giggles. What the hell was that?
Stiles groaned, pulling his phone from his pocket, which was still blasting the Batman tune. "I can't get a break," he grumbled.
He clicked answer and almost immediately I could hear the voice of his father.
"Stiles, what the hell are you doing?"
"Debating why I answered the phone," he groaned.
I heard his dad sigh. "You left an hour ago to drop of Carson. It doesn't take that long Stiles!"
"I—"
"What the hell are you two doing?" he asked. After a moment, he added, "Actually don't answer that. I don't want to know. Just get home."
A click was heard and Stiles groaned. I giggled again.
"Well, that mood was ruined," I said, climbing off his lap. I grabbed his tee shirt and plaid shirt off of my floor and handed it to him.
"I don't know, the mood seems to be pretty alive to me," he disagreed, a hopeful tone to his voice.
"Don't try to revive something that's already dead Stiles," I laughed. He sighed and began putting his layers back on.
"You know," he said as he pulled on his tee shirt. I got one last glimpse of his bare chest before it was ripped away from me. "I'm starting to think it's your shirts that do this."
I sat back down on my bed, sitting Indian style. Letting out a laugh, I asked, "Excuse me?"
"Every time I even put my hand anywhere near your shirt, someone calls. The last time Scott was blowing up you phone about Peter."
"Yeah and you crashed your Jeep into his car," I said. "Fond memories."
He sighed. "Some greater being doesn't want me to see anything beyond that shirt," he stated, looking up at where this 'greater being' could be. "Though I repeatedly beg him not to."
"Repeatedly?" I laughed.
He blushed. "Never mind."
"Aw baby, don't feel bad. You'll get there eventually," I teased.
His eyes brightened. "Sneak preview?"
I reached behind me, grabbed a pillow and launched it at him. "Go home Stilinski."
Letting out another sigh, he bent down to press another kiss to my lips. His hands cupped my cheeks as he left a soft kiss and pulled away.
"I love you," I breathed quietly.
His hazel eyes bore into mine. "Forever."
I pulled back completely, fighting a grin. "That was cheesy and you know it."
He laughed before making his way to my bedroom door. "You love it." He disappeared into the hall and I listened as his sneakers squeaked against the stairs. I heard the front door shut and fell back onto my bed. I was trying to control my racing heart.
He was right. I did love it and him. And I would, presumably forever.
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A few days later, I was sitting on the steps of the school, waiting for Lydia and Allison to arrive. Lydia had lectured me for an hour to make sure I waited for them; I'm surprised she didn't have a lawyer get me to sign an agreement. It was her first day back since we found her in the woods and she claimed she wasn't about to walk in alone.
But I knew her better. Everyone who didn't live under a rock in Beacon Hills knew what had happened to Lydia. Within hours of her disappearance, people were already gossiping about what had happened. And I knew that if I had been running through the woods naked and everyone knew, I wouldn't want to walk around with everyone staring at me.
Despite her cold hard exterior, Lydia was still a human being. Meaning that she was probably shaking in whatever designer heels she had strapped on today.
So I was perched on a step. Stiles had driven me to school as per usual, but had a morning lacrosse practice. So he had run off with Scott leaving me to sit with my thoughts. I picked at invisible string on my jeans when a something began blocking my sunlight.
I looked up to see Allison and Lydia standing above me. Allison offered me a smile while Lydia just shook her at me.
"You're going to get your jeans dirty," she remarked, making me roll my eyes. I got to my feet and looked her over.
For a person who had spent four days in the wilderness naked, she didn't show it. Her hair was shiny and hung in soft curls around her face. She wore a tight purple sleeved dress and a pair of high heels.
"Oh whatever would I do without you," I joked, pulling her into a quick hug. "How are you?"
"Other than confused," she began when we pulled away, walking up the stairs. Allison and I followed. "I feel fantastic."
"Were the doctors able to give you any kind of explanation?" Allison asked her.
She shook her head, strawberry blonde curls bouncing. "They call it a fugue state. Meaning that they have no idea why the hell I was running around the woods naked for four days. But I don't care. I lost nine pounds!"
We were in front of the double doors and Lydia just seemed to stop, as if she was debating against going in. I placed a hand on her arm.
"Are you sure you want to do this today? That you're going to be fine?" I inquired.
She looked at me and I could see a fire burning behind her green eyes. A fire of determination. She shook my hand off and opened the door. "Of course I am. It's not like my aunt's a crazy serial killer."
She strutted in and Allison looked at me wide eyed. I patted her arm.
"I warned you when you met us that she had no filter in her," I reminded which caused her to let out a tiny laugh.
We followed her in to see her looking like a deer caught in headlights. It seemed that everyone in school was before us, just stopped to look at the towns new 'nut job' as Greenburg had so nicely put it when he passed by me earlier. Needless to say, he tripped over 'something' on the stairs. They were all gawking at her and Lydia was uncomfortably fidgeting. Allison shot me a look and I bit my lip.
Allison leaned in closer and whispered, "Maybe it's the nine pounds?"
That seemed to boost her self-confidence by tenfold. She pushed her shoulders back and held her head up high. Looking like a woman on a mission, she began strutting forward, as if she was a model on a runway. Her strawberry blonde head disappeared into the crowd, who were now just looking at me and Allison.
We shared a look and I sighed. "Piss off," I yelled, which caused them all to look away and move along.
"That worked," Allison laughed. We hooked arms and began the walk down the hall.
My back pocket buzzed and I slipped it out as we walked. I opened it, seeing it was a message from Stiles.
FROM: STILES <3
Scott smells a new werewolf. Meet us at the field, NOW.
My eyes widened. Another werewolf? You have got to be kidding me. It's bad enough we had to deal with Scott and Derek. But a new furry problem? Looks like all my full moon nights are going to be permanently cleared for like ever.
I stopped causing Allison to ask what was wrong. I showed her the text. At least I didn't need to make up stupid excuses anymore. She visibly froze.
"Go," she told me. "Text me if anything happens."
I nodded, before turning and jogging down the hall. My high heel boots clicked against the floor as I swerved around people. I rolled my eyes as I had to shove about eight freshmen out of my way. Idiots think they can just stop in the middle of the hallway.
I finally made it to the door that leads to the field. I took the stairs two at a time and headed in the direction of the field. Not caring that Finstock was probably going to give me the third degree for being out here, I made my way to the sidelines and stood near the bench the players sat on during games.
Coach had all the boys lined up on the field, except for two. One of them was outside the net, probably playing defense on the others; the other player out of line was number eleven. Scott was standing in the goal, which made me confused. Scott hated playing goal. Like insanely hated it.
I ran my eyes along the line of boys, trying to find Stiles. Other players whose names I couldn't remember were towards the front. Matt, Danny and Jackson filled the middle. Holding up the end of the line were Isaac, Stiles, and some guy I didn't know. My eyes locked on Stiles, willing him to look over. But apparently, my Jedi mind thing wasn't working today.
"Jedi mind thing," I mumbled, completely confused as where it came from. "I have got to stop letting Stiles watch Star Wars with me."
He did look hot in his uniform though.
Finstock blew his whistle and tossed a ball to the first player in line. He started running towards the goal, probably preparing to send the ball sailing through the air. Seconds after he left his place in line, Scott charged out of the goal and promptly slammed the other player on the ground.
"What the hell..." I murmured as I watched Scott lean closer in. Was he...sniffing him?
Then it hit me. Seeing as Scott could smell there was a werewolf, this was probably a way to single him out. He'd be going one on one with all the players, making it easier to detect where the werewolf stench was coming from. There were probably a hundred easier, less embarrassing ways to do this. But Scott was best friend with Stiles. And despite the amount of love I garnered for my boyfriend, his ideas kind of sucked.
"McCall! Usually the goalie stays somewhere within the vicinity of the net," Finstock told him.
"Yes Coach," Scott replied before jogging back to the net.
Another whistle tang out as Finstock tossed the ball. Matt Daehler, for once without his camera, charged forward. Only to be tripped by Scott's stick and sent sailing through the air. He did a backflip and landed harshly on the solid earth.
I cringed. That had to hurt.
"McCall! The positions goal keeper," Coach yelled as Scott finished 'discreetly' sniffing Matt. "Not goal abandoner."
"Sorry Coach," Scott said. He wasn't sorry.
After a few more players got smashed into the ground, someone yanked the sleeve of my jacket. I looked up to see Finstock fuming.
"Bradley, I'm not even going to ask why you're down here. What the hell is wrong with your friend?"
Besides figuring out who the other werewolf is?
"Uh, he's failing two classes, he's a bit socially awkward and if you look close enough, his jaw is kind of uneven," I said quickly, thinking on my toes.
He cocked his head as he released me. "That's interesting," he muttered before stalking back to his team.
I sighed in relief, knowing I had dodged that bullet. But another, one named Matt, was headed my way. He stopped beside me, a big grin on his face. He had ditched his helmet and his hair was pointing in a few different directions.
"Hey Carson," he smiled, sounding much to chipper for a guy who got smashed into the dirt. "What are you doing here?"
"Uh, I'm uh, just watching my boyfriend practice," I said glancing over at Stiles who had decided this would be the perfect time to find me. Even though I could barely see past his helmet, I could easily bet he was glaring at Matt.
"Oh, I didn't know you liked lacrosse. Or that you were dating him," Matt said, following my gaze to Stiles.
"Yup," I muttered. What kind of world did we live in where a girl can't peacefully watch her werewolf best friend seek out another werewolf? Honestly.
He nodded. "So what the hell is up with McCall?"
What was this? An impromptu game of twenty questions? "I don't know."
"Well, does he have some kind of violent tendency? I mean, he's body checked half the team," Matt grumbled.
I rolled my eyes at his little diva fit. "Lacrosse is a violent game Matt."
"I get that but what the hell?" he muttered. "Oh and I wanted to ask you—"
"Don't you have to go take a picture of something?" I snapped.
He looked taken aback at the sudden venom in my tone. A second later he was glaring at me. He rolled his narrowed eyes and started walking away mumbling, "Bitch."
"I know I am, you freaking asshole," I yelled after him.
I turned my attention back to the field to see Scott clambering off of Danny. Finstock was still fuming and began yelling.
"McCall! If you get out of that net one more time, you'll be doing suicide runs till you die. It'll be the first ever suicide run that actually ends in a suicide! Got it?"
Scott only nodded, dragging his stick and himself back to the goal. "Yes Coach."
From the other end of the field, Jackson made up some lame ass excuse to why he wasn't going to play. Without even waiting for an answer, he walked towards the sidelines, shooting me a glare as he went. What the hell did I do?
I sighed, turning my attention back. The next player in line was Isaac Lahey. His shoulders were moving erratically, like he was breathing heavy. It was like he was extremely angry about something. The whistle rang and he caught the ball with extreme precision. It reminded me subtly of the first time Scott caught a ball all the way back when he was a newbie werewolf.
Wait. Intense aggression or anger...heightened reflexes....
"Oh no," I whispered.
My suspicions were only confirmed as Scott and Isaac charged at each other. It was like watching a car crash; I couldn't look away. They collided with each other harshly, sending them both crashing to the ground. They both landed in a crouch, facing each other. And I did not doubt that Scott was looking into a pair of golden eyes.
Out of the corner of my own eye, I saw something approaching from the other end of the field. My eyes widened as my gaze locked onto Sheriff Stilinski, two of deputies flanking him. This wasn't good.
Five minutes later, it was as if there hadn't even been a practice to begin with. Isaac was off to the side with Stiles' dad and the deputies. Coach Finstock was with them as well. Everyone else was in a giant crowed, wondering what quiet little Isaac Lahey could have done to get a police visit.
"Scott, what the hell is going on?" I asked as I met up him and Stiles. They were sectioned off from everyone else, not so it was obvious but enough so we could privately speak.
"Isaac's father is dead," Scott mumbled as he listened in. "I think it was murder."
I let out a small gasp. Mr. Lahey was dead? I didn't know him personally, but had seen him from time to time when I used to go over Jackson's house. He and Isaac lived alone. Mrs. Lahey had passed away and Isaac's older brother had left town for reasons I wasn't sure of. Mr. Lahey had been Beacon Hill's swim coach for a long time but tended to keep tov himself like Isaac does. Or at least, he did keep to himself.
"Are they saying Isaac's a suspect?" Stiles questioned.
I gave him a wide eyed look. "In his own father's death?" I cried. I definitely could not see Isaac killing someone. Especially his own father.
Stiles shrugged. "They have to take everything into account. So are they?"
Scott shook his head. "I'm not sure why?"
"Because they can lock him in a holding cell for twenty four hours," Stiles whispered.
I raised an eyebrow. "Like overnight?"
"Yeah, on the full moon," Stiles said, a grave look on his face.
"Crap," I muttered.
If Isaac was going to be locked in a holding cell on the full moon, we weren't going to be able to watch over him or chain him somewhere. He could easily break out and wreak havoc on the town.
Scott's eyebrows rose. "How good are those holding cells at holding people?"
"People, good. Werewolves, probably not that good."
"Guys, remember when I said I don't have the urge to maim and kill?" Scott sighed
I gulped. "Let me guess, he does."
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I'm really trying my best to get this all up here and have this entire story done by mid-July. I get out of school on Wednesday and I didn't get a summer job (mainly bc no one is hiring lol) so I should be available to write for a good portion of the summer.
Also, I'm trying my best to get the next chapter of Insanity finished but it is physically killing me I swear.