"I'm not gay, but..." Stiles begins. I sit there and nod, and I try to say "yeah" or give a quick laugh at the right places to show him I'm listening. But I'm not. Not today. The way he began the story distracted me. Saying "I'm not gay, but" is just a more polite way of saying "no homo" before you go and say something that is totally homo. Normally that wouldn't be a big deal; there's no harm in it. But, recently...recently, I don't know.

It's not like I'm questioning my sexuality; there's no question about my sexuality. There's no "I'm not gay..." because I am gay. I think I'm technically in the closet. If someone asked me if I was gay, I would tell them; however, no one has ever cared enough to ask, really, so no one knows. I don't talk about it. I'm not flamboyant. I'm not a little monster or whatever the in your face gays are calling themselves. And it is almost embarassing to admit that I am still a virgin; I have never even been kissed. The few relationships I have had were "long distance." By long distance, I mean that we met on the internet, and we talked and texted and occasionally used skype for intimacy purposes. I tried a few times to start something more local. That chapter of my dating life should be a how-to book on finding sex-obsessed older men with no real interest in you as a person. That's what I get for using grindr to meet guys, I guess.

Recently, however, I'm not sure what's happening; I'm changing; I think it's the bite. Before I Derek bit me, I was awkward, lonely, abused. Psycologists would would probably say that my "daddy issues" caused my attraction to guys, and my abuse delayed the development of my sexual desires. Then I was bit. At first I didn't notice anything different sexually, because I was distracted by the fact that everything was changing, and my dad was dead, and I was homeless, and I had claws and fur and fangs sometimes, and I was strong, and I was finally unalone; everything changed -

"Isaac!" Stiles says, interrupting my thoughts. "Isaac, that was funny. Come on, you should be laughing. Danny and Ethan doing it doggy style. Come on. You're not offended are you?"

"Stiles," I smile, shaking my head, chuckling a little to help his fragile ego. "I'm -"

beeeeeeppppp

Saved by the bell, I mutter under my breath. Lunch is over. I grab my bag, and I head to my class, a free period. Once I'm in class, I'm free to think a little more about what must be my second puberty; my werewolf hormones coming alive. I need to remember to ask Scott or Derek about this. I need to know if it's normal. Everything is so confusing right now.

All I know for sure is that I'm changing, and I don't think all of it is because of the bite. The bite did change me, that is undeniably the case. After the bite, I was powerful and confident, but I was still angry and despite my pack, I was alone.

Scott and I never clicked. I remember after I thought Derek died, I didn't even want to speak with him; I didn't even want to see him. Eventually, those feelings faded. And we became friends. Ish. As much of friends as we could be. I'm even living with Scott and his family, like we are really a pack. And I think becoming a part of that pack changed me, not because of being with Scott. But what I gained by joining.

Stiles.