I awoke to the sound of birds chirping and a nipping wind. The rising sun shone brilliantly in my eyes, making it difficult to fully open them. Why was I so chilly? Opening my green irises were a simple answer to my question. I was outside in a wooded area. Damn it. This was the third time this month I had woken up somewhere other than my bed.

According to Kevin, my straight-edge-stick-up-his-ass therapist, I was the textbook definition example of a sleepwalker and stress was my trigger. His job was to help me understand why I was so stressed and what I could do to eliminate some of that stress. I however, did not need Kevin to figure that out. Kevin was my mother's idea. She insisted that witnessing my best friend's death was traumatizing and I needed someone to talk to; as if it wouldn't be easier for her to simply ask me how I was doing herself.

I didn't need Kevin to tell me I was stressed. That part was obvious. Every normal 17 year old is stressed. But let's face it, I was far from normal.

I dusted the dirt and leaves off of me as I got up and began to stretch. Sleeping on the floor proved to be quite uncomfortable and unfortunately, this was becoming no big deal to me. I walked a short five minutes until I landed in the back parking lot of a strip mall. Finding someone who was nice enough to lend me their phone instead of shooting me a sideways glance was challenging. Who knew people were alarmed by barefooted teenaged girls emerging from the woods?

After getting someone to lend me a phone, I called the one person who would be here in a nanosecond. He picked up after one ring.

"Derek? It's me. It happened again. I'm at that strip mall not too far from my house. The one with the bagel place. Can you pick me up?"

"I'll be there as soon as I can. Hang tight," was all he said before he hung up.

I instantly felt a twinge of guilt listening to his mumbling voice. It was only half past 7 in the morning and I had undoubtedly woken him from his slumber. He was no stranger to sleep troubles either. I handed the nice women her phone back and thanked her. I sat down on the curb and wrapped my arms around my small figure. My lips would turn blue any minute.

Not long after, I heard tires coming to a halt in front of me and none other than Derek Hale himself coming out of the driver's seat of his Camaro. I quickly stood up.

"Jesus Mia you look terrible," he said as he slid his leather jacket off and threw it over my shoulders. Underneath that he was wearing sweatpants and a shirt that clung a bit too tightly to his muscles. It was obvious he changed into whatever he could find and rushed over to me.

"Gee thanks Dere," I replied sarcastically, using a nickname he hated. That earned me a quick glare.

He opened my door for me and I quickly jumped in, silently thanking God that he arrived promptly. I watched as he went around the car and returned to the driver's seat.

"Are you okay?" he asked, concern washing over his face.

"I'm fine Derek, seriously," I said. As soon as the words escaped my lips, it was apparent he did not believe me and that was okay because neither did I. Fortunately, he didn't push it any further and started the car.

"Let's get you home then," he said. He sped off and we drove in silence to my house.

His hands held the steering wheel with so much force that his knuckles bulged through his hands, while his jaw clenched and I could tell he wasn't happy. I instantly grew worried that I was the reason why.

"I'm sorry Derek. I'm sorry I woke you up. I'm sorry you keep having to pick me up. Maybe next time I'll call Scott or Stiles. I'm sorry," I said trying to stop the tears that had welled up from flowing. I could not cry. I would not cry. I had done enough of that after Allison's death.

He gave me quick, confused glance and pulled the car over to the side of the rode. By now, the sun had risen completely and it shone in my eyes through the windshield.

"You think I'm mad at you?" he asked incredulously.

"Well…aren't you?" I asked in return, puzzled.

He sighed and shook his head, turning towards me, taking his hands, and intertwining them with mine. I noticed the dark circles under his eyes that mirrored mine. It was obvious he was just as stressed as I was. Instead of his usual smirk, he held a small smile.

"You can't help this, Mia. I'm not mad at you, I'm worried about you. Getting calls from you this early in the morning and hearing that you've been roaming the woods at night alone and unaware of your surroundings scares me to death," he explained while never letting go of my hand.

"It's fine Der-,"

"No it's not," he said cutting me off firmly. It was becoming more difficult for me to keep the tears at bay. He was right. I most certainly was not okay. I was usually the rock of my group of friends. The girl with a killer poker face and the ability to appear as if I were all right with everything going on in my surroundings. When I found out Derek was a werewolf a couple years back, I responded as if it were nothing. By the time Scott was bitten, it was as if another one of my friends were telling me that they gotten their driver's license; no big deal.

Since then, we've dealt with everything under the sun from Kanimas, to Alpha packs, to Darachs. Then the unexpected happened and one of our own fell from grace. Allison's death hit me hard and fast, like freight truck, and it felt as if I was still picking up the pieces. Derek saw right through me, like always and I hated him for that.

By now, the salty liquid freely fell from my eyes and Derek quickly wiped them with his thumb. I knew I was the only person who got to see this side of him, and I knew how rarely it came.

"Shh, Mia. It's okay if you're not okay," he whispered, gently running the same thumb across my lips that had now formed a small pout.

Just then, I noticed how close we were and tried my best to control the loud thumping that my heart was doing inside my chest, because I knew he would pick up on that in an instant. My breathing hitched and I cursed myself. Why was I acting this way? Derek Hale and I had been friends since I could remember. We had been together for both of our highs and lows. Sure, he was one of the most attractive people I knew, but I never once thought about us being an us-not until this very moment.

I closed my eyes because I was afraid to even look at him and before I knew it, I could feel his breath on my lips, indicating he had moved even closer. For a second I thought maybe I was still asleep in the woods dreaming, but then his lips crashed into mine and I knew it wasn't a dream. This was real, and it felt right. I instantly moved my hands to his face feeling the stubble of his facial hair against my soft fingertips. Our lips molded together perfectly and I felt his rough hands tangle in my hair. All too soon it was over and I found myself breathing heavy.

Derek's hands untangled themselves from my hair and he was once again holing my hand. He used the other to start the car and then moved it to the steering wheel and drove on to the road once again. I sat there in disbelief of what had just happened.

We drove the rest of the way in silence but Derek's hand never left mine. When I finally snapped out of it, I realized we had passed my house a while ago. The trees whirled by as he sped and I noticed we were awfully close to his loft. Sure enough a couple minutes later, we were parked outside the loft.

"I thought I was going home?" I asked as I stepped out of the car and followed him inside.

"I changed my mind. I'm not ready to let you out of my sight just yet," he said with a slight smirk. He draped his arm around me and kissed my temple. For the first time in a while, I smiled. It wasn't one of the smiles I put on for my friends at school to give the illusion that all was well either; it was real.