Black Sun
When someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time.
- Maya Angelou
Chapter Two
Under The Surface
Mornings were the absolute worst. No matter how much of a good night sleep I got, I always woke up groggy. It took me at least twenty minutes to get out of my post sleep haze and even then all I wanted to do was crawl back under the sheets. I guess it didn't help that I had spent the entire weekend staying up past 2 am. I slapped the off button on my alarm clock, and tossed off the covers. I slipped on my fuzzy slippers and padded out into the hall to the bathroom. I could hear my parents shuffle around down stairs to start their own morning routine.
After washing up and dressing for the day, I checked my activity feed on my laptop. Everyone was talking about how excited they were for the upcoming lacrosse game on Saturday. I wasn't very big on sports but then again, I never really paid much mind to actually watch a full game. When I lived in San Diego, my dad once took me to a baseball game. It wasn't very exciting but he bought me ice cream afterwards, any kind I wanted. That was the bright side of Aretino family outings. You always get treated at the end of the night, especially if the particular activity had been mundane. Perhaps I'd go to that lacrosse game, just for fun.
I grabbed my book bag from the back of my chair and skipped downstairs. My mom was in the kitchen, struggling to put on her coat with her purse and car keys in one hand. I sighed and walked up to help her.
"Put your arms out," I said and she lifted them up. I adjusted the sleeves over her shoulders and fixed the collar, smoothing it down with my palms.
"There," I said when I was done.
She gave me a warm smile. "Thank you, honey."
I shrugged one shoulder and surveyed the empty dining room. My dad usually sat at the head seat with his cup of coffee and read the paper before going to work. I always saw him in the mornings, even if it was for a split second. I checked the time on the microwave and it read 6:45 am.
I rubbed the back of my head as my mom tore open a bag of strawberry pop tarts. "Where's dad?" I asked.
"He had to go in early today and so do I," my mom answered, storing the box back into the pantry. She was an accountant at the local bank, so her hours were long and dire. Kind of like my dad's.
I always thought that his work hours were quite strange for a lawyer. Sometimes he'd return in the middle of the night or just before sun up. I brought it up to my mom once and she got very tight eyed and shamelessly dodged my observation. It made me think of the old saying, "Children should be seen and not heard." Guess that's still somewhat alive. It appeared my folks liked keeping secrets, along with half the town.
I wasn't feeling very hungry but I knew objecting when my mom held out the cold pastries would be a death wish.
"Eat something," she commanded, in her mother-knows-best tone. There was no arguing with her.
I took the cheap strudel, having no time to heat them up in the toaster, and ripped open the plastic wrappings. I nibbled on the corners, following my mom as she hurried out the door. Her blue Honda civic was parked in the driveway, small and simple. Back in San Diego, we sported a flashy black Porsche, that was mostly shared by my parents. My mom didn't work much back then, only part time, so she was at home most of the days. The only time she used it was to run errands or trips to the grocers. They sold it before we moved to Beacon Hills of course, along with other expensive possessions that deemed to be pointless. Neither of them thought that displaying such a vehicle would blend in well with the local flavor. I thank god every day for that. Riding around in that thing made me feel like I was in a Bond film. It was nice to have normality.
My mom secured her brief case in the trunk while I tossed my book bag in the back and clicked in my seat belt. I managed to go through my first pop tart and started to work on my second.
My mom touched up her lipstick in the rear view mirror as I munched through the rest of my breakfast. "Could you eat like a human being?" She snipped when crumbs fell all over my lap and leather seat.
I dabbed the corners of my mouth with my sleeve. "Could you not dress like Shaft?" I shot back, which made her look down at her long black coat. I held back a chuckle when she rolled her eyes. She started the car and cruised out of the drive way, making snide remarks about my messy eating habits all the way there.
We pulled up to the school right on time, stopping at the curb. My mom left the engine running as I got my stuff from the back seats. "Have a nice day, dear," she called to me, handing me my history book which had fallen out of the bag.
I tucked it in with my other books. "Bye, mom," I called and shut the passenger door but leaned against the open window before she could drive off.
"Hey, will you still be able to pick me up today after school?" I asked. My mom pursed her lips which wasn't usually a good sign of her disorganized thoughts.
"I don't know, honey," she pondered, looking ahead at the windshield. "It depends if I can get off work early enough. Your father works late so he won't be back until later tonight. If you don't hear from me by three thirty then that means I can come."
My expression brightened. "Okay," I said, a little hopeful. "I guess I can get a ride from one of my friends if you can't." That little voice in my head couldn't help but scoff 'yeah right' at my proclamation. I had to walk home three times in a row during the past week. Gosh, I really needed to get my license.
My mom nodded, giving me a tight lipped smile. "I'll see you later, sweetie." I waved as she rolled up the window and cruised away, going a little faster than she normally drove. I turned to the school steps and crossed my arms over my chest.
This was just like any other day.
[O]
Punching in my locker combination, I stuffed all my books into the awful small space and gathered all the things I needed for my first class. A flurry of students fluttered around me, shoving stuff into the backpacks before slamming their lockers closed. A disheveled looking boy a couple lockers down from me played an air guitar to his mp3 player. I shook my head and bit my lower lip stop myself from bursting into semi hysterical laughter.
"I've been looking for you," a light, chirpy voice called from behind me. I turned around, meeting the smiling face of Allison Argent. I wondered how she managed to escape Lydia's ever watchful eye.
"Oh hey," I said, my mood perking up. I closed my locker and hung my bag over my shoulder as Allison leaned against the locker next to me.
"What's up?" She asked, her dark curls bouncing over her shoulders.
"Same thing, different day," I said, which made her chuckle.
"I know exactly how that feels," she said, flashing that smile that showed her dimples. She walked with me down the hall to my first class of the day.
"How was the party last night?" I asked her as we strolled.
She gave a sassy shrug of the shoulders. "It was going great until Scott left." She played with her fingers, knitting her thin eyebrows together.
"What happened?" I asked.
"I don't know," she said, sounding completely puzzled. "We were having a good time then he just…" she trailed off, stopping her strides. I paused too, and she stared at the tiles, looking hurt and angry at the same time. "I thought he liked me," she murmured.
"I'm sure he does," I said. I wasn't very good at the whole comfort talk thing but I was giving it all I got.
"But why would he just desert me like that?" Allison asked. I could tell by her tone that she was really getting upset.
Okay. Think, think.
"Well," I said slowly, picking my words carefully. "Maybe you looked too hot and he just couldn't handle it." I waited for her response, as she bit her lower lip, the crease between her eyebrows slowly retracting.
She giggled quietly and her shoulders relaxed a little bit.
It worked, I thought gleefully to myself. Banter really did work. "Really, you should be ashamed of yourself," I teased. "You could've put the poor guy in the hospital."
Allison laughed again and gently pushed my arm. "Stop it," she said through her laughs. We started walking again and I was relieved that the mood was lightened.
"Who drove you home?" I asked curiously.
"One of Scott's friend's," Allison said.
"Stiles?" I thought of the cute, baby faced boy that was always by Scott's side. It didn't hit me until then that I never actually met the two. I always passed them in the halls in between classes but that was the extent of our contact.
"No, he was a bigger guy. Tall, dark hair, wore a leather jacket."
It was like a brick hit me square in the face. I froze to a halt, images of the mystery guy flashing in my head. No way, it could've have been the same person. Surely it was only a coincidence.
"You okay?" Allison said, noticing my blank face. I nodded and tripped over my feet, tying to catch up to her side. Very graceful of me.
"Did…did he drive a black Camaro?" I asked warily, watching closely for her reaction. Allison made a confused face.
"I didn't really notice," she said. "Why? Do you know him?"
"No, no," I answered quickly. At least, I didn't think I did. I really hoped it was a different guy. There had to be more than one guy in Beacon Hills with the same description, right?
"How did you get home?" Allison asked after a minute of quietness.
"I caught a ride with someone too."
"Who was it?"
I hesitated to answer that. The similarities to our stories were just too close, uncanny. It gave me the skeevies and I felt the need to scratch at my arms by the creepy crawly feeling.
"I'm not sure. He was tall and sort of…creepy."
"Creepy?" Allison said, interest piqued. "How?"
The bell rang before I could say anything, signaling the first period. I sighed internally with relief. That was a can of worms I did not want to open up.
"I have to get to class but tell me everything at lunch, okay?" Allison, flashing her signature smile that made it impossible for you to feel down.
"I will," I said with a lighter tone. She touched my arm lightly then scurried down the hall. Yep, this was definitely going to be a long day…
I hurried to my own class, taking precaution so I wouldn't slip on the newly mopped floors. I walked into History about ten minutes late, much to my dismay and the teacher's. Though, Mr. Sherman was hard on just about everyone.
"Nice of you to join us, Miss Aretino," he said, shooting me the evil eye.
"Sorry," I muttered, ducking my head and scampered to take my seat. I tried to let the weird looks I was getting roll off my back as I prepared my notebook. Mr. Sherman droned on with his lesson while I jotted down whatever was on the board.
Like always, after a while, my mind started to wander. My thoughts kept drifting back to the mystery Camaro guy. I couldn't get the swirl of his green eyes out of my head, no matter how hard I tried. I don't know why I always thought about him ever since I saw him. I've seen guys as good looking as him before but that wasn't the sole reason he stuck out to me. I didn't know if it was the combination of his silent nature or the biker-esque jacket.
I shook my head to myself and shifted my attention back to my notes. If I kept up this mentality, I'd fail History with flying colors.
I scribbled down my last set of notes as the teacher finished up his lesson. He just drew the due date of our homework assignment for the week on the chalk board. Wonderful. It was another essay. I wrote down the date too, then the bell rang. All the students nearly jumped from their seats, itching to get out of the classroom. I yawned, slinging my bag over my shoulder then dragged myself to Math, aka my own personal hell. Thankfully, I wasn't late to that class.
Surprisingly, it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. I was actually up to date with the current lessons and the teacher didn't try to humiliate me for my bad multiplication skills. Things are fine and dandy until you include the alphabet.
I admit, I felt a little proud of myself as I answered all the problems on the work sheet with an unrecognizable wave of confidence. It was my least strongest subject after all and most my past test scores more than proved that it wasn't my strong suit. I glanced up at the clock after twenty minutes as two students worked at the board on an equation. I didn't realize who they were until I raised my head.
It was Allison's boy, Scott McCall, looking rather overwhelmed as he shyly tried to solve the math problem. Beside him was no other than the school firecracker, Lydia Martin. She had daggers for me, no doubt about that, and at the moment I was glad her back was toward me. She could melt the skin off my face by the harshness of her glare. I looked back down at my papers, waiting patiently for the bell to ring.
[O]
When lunch time came around, I stored all my things into my locker, then followed the rising trail of students to the cafeteria. I only took a small bottle of water, a container of yogurt and an apple. I never trusted high school food. Maybe it was because I had a case of the stomach flu during my first day of Freshman year and I vowed it would never happened again.
I parked myself at a table near the window and propped a book against my purse as I chomped through my apple. The loudness of the cafeteria prohibiting me from really concentrating on what I was reading. After a moment, I looked over my shoulder at the lunch line. Allison and Lydia were sliding their trays at the end. When they turned away, Allison caught sight of me and smiled, waving one hand. I returned the gesture and she took a few steps toward my table, but Lydia grabbed her arm sharply, towing her back to a different one filled with more people.
Allison glanced back at them, then at me, conflict spewed across her features. She was having a hard time choosing whom to go to.
I didn't want her to feel divided so I smiled at her, motioning that she should go over to her other friends. She smiled back weakly, stumbling a bit by Lydia's persistent tugs. She went over to the other group, settling in perfectly. All I could do was fake a smile.
It was so… odd. I've lived here for five years and I still felt uneasy around my peers. I guess Beacon Hills takes a while getting used to.
"You will not believe what Rebecca Cromwell wore today!" Someone said, plopping down on the seat across from me. It was Lauren. Her sandy blonde hair was pulled into a high pony tail, supporting a baggy grey sweater.
"Huh?" I mumbled, dazed by her outburst. "Oh, uh, what did she wear?"
"Her dark wash skinny jeans were from like, three summers ago and she's not exactly a size four anymore," Lauren chatted, resting her chin on her palm.
I raised my eyebrows, expecting more to the little rant. "So?"
"Her ass almost fell out of her jeans all throughout homeroom and I had to sit behind her," she answered, leaning in close to no one else could hear. She faked a traumatized shiver.
I blinked slowly, processing that vital piece of information. Being so close to her face made me notice dark rings around her eyes that certainly wasn't eyeliner. Her breath smelled a little bitter too and something about the hazing of her eyes usually pale blue eyes sang that she was a post-bearer of a hangover.
"Did you just get here?" I asked, studying the red lines painting the whites of her eyes.
She nodded and grinned impishly. "My mom wrote up a doctor's note."
Lucky you, I thought. "Where's Julie?" I hadn't seen her all morning. We usually met up after History class but she never showed up.
Lauren cackled softly, knowing something that I didn't. "At home, sick with mono."
Whoa. That made my mouth drop. "The kissing disease?" I quipped, my voice raising a few octaves in surprise. Lauren nodded, grinning from ear to ear like the Cheshire Cat.
"I always told her when you sleep with a guy, you sleep with every other girl he's been with, " she said proudly. I made a disgusted face.
"I guess its just you and me for the week," I realized, now that Julie was down for the count. "Want to study after school? I have this killer English test that I have to-"
"I can't," Lauren cut me off, then scanned around the room for prying ears. "I'm meeting up with Andy later in the boy's locker room."
"Oh," I said, keeping my voice level to shroud my disappointment. "Well...have a good time then."
"You know I will," she replied, giggling almost drunkenly and hopped off the seat. "I'll call you tomorrow!" She sang as she zipped through the door to the hallways. I should have expected that, I thought to myself. Their friendship was like that little object from childhood you wanted to keep on your shelf forever and never give away, no matter how beat up and old they were.
I turned back to my book, my appetite suddenly going away. I packed the novel back into my purse and tossed the rest of my lunch into the bin. Fresh air sounded good right about then.
I padded through the empty hall and out the double doors, sucking in the cool air. I sat gingerly on the first steps and leaned against the railing, closing my eyes briefly. Which wasn't really a good decision. Whenever I closed my eyes, I thought of my green eyed chauffeur again. I just couldn't shake this guy. It was crazy. Something about him was so hypnotic. It seemed like my thoughts weren't safe at all, eyes closed or not. I wasn't always a mentally organized person but the situation wasn't really helping my case at all.
I stayed outside for a while, checking my phone every now and then for the time. I stood up before the bell could ring again and turned toward the door, about to go back in. From my peripheral vision, I thought a saw a black car parked along the curb in front of the school. It looked a lot like a Camaro.
My pulse raced. No, no...It could've have been.
Could it be him?
Just how many Camaros were there in Beacon Hills? Okay, just relax, I told myself. You're getting ahead of yourself. It was just a car. I was making a big deal out of nothing again. I stared at it for a little while, and I wondered if there was someone in there, staring right back.
I snapped myself from my daze and hurried back inside so I wouldn't be late when the bell rang again. My next class was a nightmare. Chemistry made me want to throw myself on the floor and pound my fists and feet against it. I hated it, and not only because Mr. Harris possessed the ability to make you feel like you're being interrogated in a dark, cold room with a dim, swinging light bulb over your head like Criminal Minds. I think everyone felt a little antsy around him. Especially Stiles. Mr. Harris really had it out for him. Poor guy.
Thankfully, I walked in on time. Five minutes early to be precise. All the chairs were taken except a seat next to Jackson Whittemore, aka Lydia's beau. I always tried to steer clear from him ever since they became an item. So I was more than a bit shaken when I had to slid in next to him. If Lydia saw us in such close proximity, I don't know what she'd do to me. Maybe some kind of psychological torture.
But low and behold, we never once uttered a word to each other, except for the small eye contact we shared when my hand accidentally bumped against his when I reached for my pencil. He smirked at me then looked back down. Thank god.
The final bell was like music to my ears. I couldn't move faster enough to collect by stuff and head outside. I still had about an hour to spend before my mom got off work, so I parked myself on one of the benches on the lacrosse field. Practice was already in session and I could spot Scott out of the burly bunch of boys. Something about him appeared off though. He looked tense and anxious, maybe even a little scared.
It was weird but I didn't pay much attention to it and just studied for my upcoming English exam. The metal seats were extremely uncomfortable and I adjusted my positions many times but the more I moved, the more I couldn't sit still. I looked up at the players after a while and noticed Scott stumbling across the field toward the school with his friend Stiles draped around him. Why did that guy keep getting sick? Must have been something that was going around, I guess.
I turned a page in my book and glanced at the students around me. Most of them were sitting in groups of two or three and it reminded of the times Julie, Lauren and I used to hang out like that. But that was eons ago. They had boyfriends now, and I had tests to concentrate on.
After the field started to clear out, I checked the time on my phone, seeing that it was close to three thirty. I slung my bag over my shoulder and skipped off the bleachers but doubled back when I realized I had left a book behind. When I reached for it, I thought I saw a tall, shadowy figure slink into the woods. It seemed like it was looking right at me. Maybe it was just my overactive imagination.
I hoisted the book under my arm and went back to the parking lot to wait for my mom. I paced back in forth in front of the steps, watching as the minutes ticked by on my phone.
One minute before it could hit three forty five, a notification popped up. It was none other than a text from my mom. I braced myself, and clicked on the little box.
'Couldn't get off work in time. Sorry, honey! It won't happen again I promise!'
That's what she said the first time I had to walk home. This time around though, I wore appropriate shoes for the journey. I slipped my phone back into my pocket and started my on-foot voyage. This marked the fourth time so I was sort of used to it by now, but I knew my shoulder would get tender and sore from carrying my heavy book bag through the entire trek.
I covered about half block, readjusting the strap on my bag whenever it slid off my shoulder. I saw all the students pass by in their cars and it made me so envious. I'd do anything to get my own license, hell even just a permit. I studied for it and got most of the facts memorized, but taking the written and driving test were another thing. I had a tendency to blank out during exams, like a computer crashing, loosing all its data.
I kicked a few pebbles on the sidewalk, and one flew harder than I meant. It sailed over the curb, scraping against the paint of a parked car. The screech was loud.
My throat closed up. "Oh my god," I chanted, rushing closer. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean- Is your car okay?" I felt all the blood drain from my face as the owner of the car stepped out. It was him. The guy who drove me home from the party. He knelt in front of the back tire, inspecting the spot where the stone hit, running a finger over the surface.
"Quite a power kick you got there," he observed.
I leaned forward to get a closer look but stayed in my place. "Did I scratch it?"
He stood up and shook his head, turning to face me. His hands automatically slipped into his jacket pockets. "Barely. Nice try though." He paused, taking in the tote bag around my arm. "Want a lift?"
I shook my head quickly, a feeling of uncertainty coming over me. "I don't think-"
"It's air conditioned," he cut in, inclining his head toward the car. I remembered what sitting in it felt like the first time and it did harbor an incredibly comforting aroma.
But in all honestly, I didn't think I would ever see this guy again. I was just grateful that he didn't turn out to be a psycho that liked to lure girls into his car so he could murder them.
"You alright? It looks like you've seen a ghost," he said when I stared at him like a dope.
Something like that, I thought to myself. I nodded and shuffled along the street. "Yeah, I'm fine. Look, um, I appreciate the offer but I can walk."
His answer was so low that I almost didn't hear it. "Again?"
I spun on my heel towards him. The statement alone should've caused some sort of negative reaction, but yet it only made me wonder. How did know all these things about me? Was he staking me out like an FBI agent?
"How did you know that?" I demanded.
He shrugged his shoulders carelessly. "I've seen you around before. You're easy to spot." He sounded so nonchalant that we might as well have been talking about the weather.
"I see," I commented quietly, fixing the strap over my shoulder. He walked over to the passenger door and held it open. The light flecked and the inside looked exactly the same as I remembered. Bright and alluring.
"Well?" He said impatiently. "Are you going to stand there all day or what?"
It was nice to know his personality was intact, too. "Charming as ever," I remarked and came closer to the seat. I thought I saw him glare at me when I turned to store my stuff in the back seat. He shut the door when I was all buckled in and ready to go.
He got in the drivers seat and started the car. I watched him discreetly, noticing that he grew out his facial hair a little. I looked out the window before he could tell I was staring, if he hadn't already. He was taking all the correct routes to my house without having to ask. Either he had a very good memory or he knew all along. I gazed at him again, wondering exactly who he was. If I was going to find out, I had to be crafty about it.
We didn't talk much for a majority of the ride. He flicked on the heater again when he saw me roll down the sleeves of my shirt.
"How old are you?" I asked suddenly, and held my breath for his answer. I figured he wasn't a day over twenty.
"Older than you," was his snarky comment.
"Really?" I said, feigning shock, bringing a hand to my chest. "I thought you were a freshman with incredibly high testosterone." He fixed me with a withering stare in return.
But that didn't faze me. "So, are you in college?" I said.
He smirked at my question, the corners of his lips raising despite his obvious efforts to conceal it. "No."
I waited for a couple of beats. "Do you have a job?"
"No."
"Then what do you do?"
"I'm going to throw you out of my car if you don't stop asking questions."
Yeah, his personality was definitely the same. "I'm just trying to get to know you, that's all," I defended myself.
His eyebrows knitted together. "Why?" He asked, sounding like he genuinely wanted to know.
"Well, if you're going to do this on a regular basis, I thought I should at least know one thing about you. I already know you're not a murderer." It looked like he wanted to laugh at the last part, but kept himself from doing so. Well, it was nice to know I had the power to almost make him chuckle.
The rest of the ride was quiet until he pulled up to my house. I got my stuff from the back, and got out the car. He left the engine running as I leaned against the rolled down window.
"You know, you never told me your name," I hinted.
He waited for a while, probably weighing the choices to leave me hanging or not. His grip on the wheel noticeably tightened, gaze flickering down at the sidewalk. Why was his identity such a secret?
I waited patiently though, and after a passing minute or two, he looked me in the eye
"Derek," he said carefully. "My name is Derek."
I smiled.
Derek.
It was a nice name, and it suited him. "I'm Alessandra," I introduced myself. It looked like he was fighting back another smirk.
"I know," he said very cryptically and just like the night I met him, he drove off without saying anything else. I stared after his car like I was in a trance. Well, that was weird, I thought to myself. I turned and reached into my pocket to fish out my house key. The house was silent and drafty but I could hear the ticking of the grandfather clock on the fireplace mantle in the living room. I locked the door behind me and snagged a bottle of water before retreating upstairs to my room.
The rest of the school days went by fairly well. All of my grades were stable, minus math, but I managed to pull it up to a C all the way from the D- I had last week. That was sort of a start.
I also didn't receive any other special appearances from Derek, except the times when I'd look out the window in class and see a black Camaro cruise by. Or I thought I did. It could have been my eyes playing tricks on me.
Allison talked to me more in the halls and during lunch, even when Lydia tried to coerce her away. I guess she was tired of feeling torn. But since she and I were hanging out more, that meant Lydia was going to flutter around as well. I didn't know how to handle her, in truth. She could pull off this I'm-So-Nice-and-Innocent demeanor, but I knew she wouldn't hesitate to throttle me in my sleep if it meant having Allison all to herself.
And there was no word from Julie. She was at still home, I presumed, sick with Mono. But the big kicker was that Lauren ended up getting sick too with the same illness. Turned out that her new man Andy was one of Julie's recent hookups before the party on Friday night. It was like something out of a soap opera.
Over all, the week went on relatively normal. Though my mom decided to switch things up this particular morning. Instead of walking home from school, I had to walk to school. She was running late for work and couldn't afford to waste anymore time. This was a little harsh but not unexpected.
I waited around for about fifteen minutes after she left, watching old cartoons on TV. I checked the clock on my phone after a while and decided it was time to get going. I made sure I had everything I needed before stepping out and locking the door.
But when I turned around, I lost all trace of words.
It was Derek, parked right outside my house, waiting for me. He leaned against the hood of car with his arms crossed over his chest. It was a nice surprise, if not a tad creepy. He always appeared at the most random times, like a popup book.
I walked toward him warily. "You lost?" I asked humorlessly.
"Thought you might need a ride to school," he announced and patted the hood of his car.
"How did you know?"
"I saw your mom's car pass by. You weren't in it," he said.
That didn't make me feel better whatsoever. "Are you...stalking me?" I asked.
He leaned away from the car, looking offended that I would even think that way about him. "Do you want a ride or not?" His eyes were narrowed and I could tell he probably wouldn't leave until I was inside that car, possibly bound and gagged.
"No, thank you," I said and gave a tentative smile. I brushed right past him and I could hear him sigh as I went.
His voice filled with ice. "Just get in," he called after me.
"I already said no," I called back just as cheery. I knew that that would get him annoyed.
"Do you want me to force you?" His tone implied that he was dead serious. I stopped in my tracks and looked back at him.
Well, that was always a good way to get someone inside your vehicle. "If you're trying to make friends, you're going about it the wrong way," I said, crossing my arms over my chest and stepping closer to him.
"I don't need friends," he said casually.
"Why not? Everybody does."
Derek's jaw tightened. "I don't trust anyone. People let you down."
"That's because you chose the wrong people," I observed. He didn't answer that but his eyes searched mine. It was like his persona did an entire 180 the last time I saw him. Last time, he was stoic and had this emotional barrier so strong that you could feel it every time he threw it up. Now, he here he was again. It was like he didn't want to go away.
"So why are you even here?" I asked, when we held eye contact.
Conflict flitted across his face, like this was a question he wasn't entirely sure of himself. "I'm trying to look out for you," he said lowly.
"But you don't even know me."
"That may be true. But there's a lot you don't know either," he said.
"Like what?" I asked.
"Like your friends. If you were smart, you'd forget all about them. They don't appreciate you."
Where was all this coming from? The sudden judgement of Julie and Lauren, the need to constantly watch my back. Why did he care so much? I couldn't understand it. I wasn't used to someone trying this hard.
"You know I'm right," he said when I just looked at the pavement.
"No, you're not," I replied heatedly, glaring at him. "You don't know anything about them. I know they appreciate me. They may not always show it but...I know deep down they do."
Derek's eyebrow raised. "Oh really? So you're telling me that friends who blow you off the hang out with the popular kids care about you? Friends who lie, take advantage, and only care about themselves? Is that a friend?"
He paused when I didn't say anything and stepped closer so we were a mere inches apart. "Answer me."
I looked into his eyes and they were cold, narrowed. "Look, just mind your own damn business from now on, okay? I don't you need you watching over me."
"What? You think you can protect yourself?"
"Could you do any better?" I shot back. I wanted to ask From what? instead, but I had a feeling he would dodge that one.
"Maybe, if you let me," Derek said, then went over to the passenger side door. He swung it open. "But you're going to have to trust me."
I stared at the passenger seat for a long time, the soft light and smooth leather sending out intense comfort waves. He had all the right bait, there was no doubt about that. And his eyes were so sincere. The thought of him lying to me deemed almost ridiculous, but also was the thought of him wanting my trust when he didn't harbor any for everybody else.
He gazed at me levelly, as I dissected my options. I already wasted about fifteen minutes bickering with him. If I walked to school like I had intended, I'd be hopelessly late for sure. He somehow always knew to show up at the right times. Weirdo.
I sighed and stepped into the seat, biting my tongue at how Derek won this little verbal battle. He came into the driver's seat, and started the car. I rested my book bag between my feet, leaning against the cushion as he drove out of my neighborhood. I rolled down the window half way so I could see everything pass us by and feel the breeze on my face. He was driving so fast again. It made feel we were racing in a Fast and the Furious movie.
"Don't you think you should slow down?"
"Why?" He asked without looking away from the road.
"Because you can get us killed," I said like it was an obvious answer, to which it was.
He only scoffed at my comment and didn't break his speed. I made sure my seat belt was clicked in properly and watched as the streets flitted by in a glimpse of green, white and grey. After a while, the little red tick on the gas started to gradually go down. It stopped at a steady forty miles.
Derek glanced at me. "Better?"
I smiled. "Better."
He turned away, smirking very little and rested his hand over the gear shift. It was quiet for a few moments, hearing nothing but the soft purr of the engine, and the wind coming in through the window. I wanted to talk about something, anything really, but I wasn't very good at starting conversations with newly met people.
Still, I thought I'd give it a try. "How long have you known Scott?" I asked him when we stopped at a red light. Thinking back to the conversation I had with Allison, I wondered how Derek knew Scott and why I haven't seen him around town more. Maybe he was just a recluse.
Derek's lips curled up the teeniest bit in a smile. "I've known him long enough."
"How long is long enough?"
"Awhile," he said stoically. Oh, so he was going to play that game again.
"Has anyone told you that you're very chatty?" I said.
"Has anyone told you that you talk too much?"
He had me there. "Well played," I noted and he chuckled very softly. I looked out the window, a few strands of hair swirling around my face by the wind. I had to admit, being in his car did make me feel safe and protected, but I wondered how long it would last. Would he just disappear on me again and I'd never see him again?
"Why do you always come back?" I asked when there was between us but silence. "You're always...there." I saw his grasp tighten on the steering wheel, knuckles almost turning white. His body suddenly went tense, shoulders rigid.
"I don't know," he said, sounding even more confused than I was. "I just needed to make sure you were okay."
"Why?"
"I told you, I don't know," he said through gritted teeth. I sighed and turned away. He was doing it again. He was closing me off, and I didn't know why. It was so frustrating. The more I tried to get to know him, the stronger his little emotional wall became. He was very mercurial.
When we pulled up to the school, I gathered my things quietly and opened the door. "Don't bother coming to drive me home. I can walk," I said and got out. I was about to close the door but he stopped me.
"Wait," he called, looking sort of defeated. "Look, I can't explain it, but there's a lot you don't know about this town. There's a lot of people looking to hurt you. If you can trust me, I can prevent that from happening."
I knew I had confusion written all over my face because he raised his eyebrows when I didn't answer. People wanting to hurt me? What was he talking about? He was going in circles.
"You know, for someone who said they didn't want friends, you're sure trying hard with me," I noted.
Derek sighed and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well. Don't let it go to your head."
"No promises," I chimed and fiddled with the strap of my book bag. "I guess I'll see you on Monday?" I asked, one foot on the pavement.
Derek smirked, but it was veiled. "Maybe."
I took that as a yes.
We held eye contact for about a minute, and it didn't hit me until then how pretty his eyes were. They were so deep, and mirrored the color of dusty emeralds. He made me nervous when stared at me for so long like that without having to say anything, so I shifted anxiously and made up some excuse to bolt.
"I'm going to be late for homeroom," I blurted out then turned and got out of the car. I could feel him watching me as I went up to the entrance but I tried to look calm and collected, as there were other students in the parking lot. I let out a breath of air once I was inside the school.
The day had started off not like I had expected, and I had a feeling the coming ones weren't going to be any less.
[O]
Later the next day, the big game day, I shuffled lazily down the stairs, still in my night clothes, around noon to raid the kitchen. My mom was gone early on Saturday and Sunday mornings for her book club meeting and usually came back around two thirty so it was my dad and I for now. He lounged in his leather recliner, sipping a heavy bottomed glass of Bourbon. I poured myself a glass of orange juice and trekked up the stairs back to my room. My dad surfed the TV channels, stopping on a local news report.
"Police have arrested Derek Hale and is currently being held in custody and charged with second degree murder. The victim is currently unknown at this time. More news later tonight," the reporter announced, loud and clear.
I froze in the middle of the stairs, nearly dropping the glass in my hand.
Derek? Did they mean...the Derek I knew? Oh god, this was not good. This was so not good. Something in my gut told me that something was terribly wrong. I ran the rest of the way upstairs, hearing my dad click the button on the remote to change the station.
I went online the minute I stepped into my bedroom, quickly bringing up the fastest search engine I could think of. I typed in his name, drumming my nails on the table as I waited. The links that popped up all related to the Hale mansion fire that happened six years ago. The articles didn't disclose much, just that the entire family perished in the fire except for three. There were no pictures, no names, no nothing. Nothing to ease my heightening paranoia. Whoever knew about this fire wanted it to be as private as possible.
Relax, I told myself. It couldn't be him. He couldn't be a killer. How could he? He gave me rides to school and home three times now. Why didn't he kill me then?
Yes, something was very, very wrong.
I shut off the computer and flopped on my bed, shoving a pillow over my head to drown out all the noise filtering from downstairs. I couldn't think straight. My mind was a complete mess. I was so nervous and I didn't know why. He was locked up, so that meant the town was safe. But somehow I didn't really feel better knowing that.
I thought of his warm and comfortable seats of his Camaro and strangely, it made me feel... violated. I was so close to him in that confined space. I could take in the scent of his shirt, hear him breath and chuckle, see the tendons flex in his large hands on the wheel. It was like I was living those murder investigation stories I watched at night before bed. And let me tell you, it's one thing to watch them, but a whole other thing to live one.
A beeped emitted from my computer screen, indicating that someone messaged me. I slugged off the bed and went to see who it was from.
I smiled. It was Allison.
'Come with me to lacrosse game tonight? :)'
I typed back to her.
'Sure! Loved to.'
I closed my laptop and stayed in my room until dinner time. When I approached the topic of me going to the game that night at the dining table, my mom and dad shot wary glances at each other. They drilled me with questions about the game, what kind of game it was, who would be there and such. I managed to shut them both up by saying that it was a high school sport competition so it was probably going to be as tame as they come. But of course, that only led to their light debate on who would have the honor of escorting me. I watched their verbal tennis match quietly, but in the end, my mom ended up the winner. That left my dad as the one who would take me to the game, something he was oh so happy to do.
I excused myself before dessert so I could sack through my closet and pick out something warm to wear. I only had around half an hour to dress, given that I had spent most of my free time listening over my parents simmering argument. After pulling on my clothes and buttoning up my jacket, I skipped downstairs. My dad stood waiting by the coat rack, cellphone glued to his left ear. He bickered with whomever he was speaking to, but smiled when he saw me and excused himself to the person on the receiver.
He tucked the phone in his pocket and looked down at me warmly. "You ready for some ball, honey?"
I felt like face palming. "Dad, this is lacrosse. Not baseball."
"Oh," he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "Sorry. You know I'm not good at these sort of things."
I just shook my head and laughed as he shrugged on his coat. "Well, we should get going. Don't wanna miss out on the good seats. Is there anyone I can call to make reservations?" He asked me. I stared at him blankly for a moment, pondering if he were serious or not.
Judging by the look on his face, I guessed he was. "They use bleachers, dad," I answered when we went out the door. I strapped myself in the passenger seat and turned on the stereo system, hoping that would ease down some of my dad's chattiness.
[O]
The parking was a lot more crowded than I thought it would be. The bright lights were already shining on the field. My dad had to park on the curb, due to lack of spacing near the school, much to his displeasure. He sure stuck out like a sore thumb too. All of the other dads were casually dressed in jeans and thick jackets. No, not mine though. He had to support his best looking suit and his designer looking coat. He just had to remind everyone of his superiority. But he was a lawyer after all, so I guess he had to present himself like one at all times.
We walked into the field and I could see Allison sitting on one of the bleachers. She waved when she saw me, holding a paper bowl of popcorn. My stomach fluttered when I noticed Mr. Agent sitting right next to her. He was a pretty intense guy. I glanced up at my dad and he looked so out of his element.
"You made it! The game is about to start," Allison said, popping up from her seat to hug me.
"Is Scott still playing?" I murmured, out of ear shot from Mr. Argent. Allison nodded, grinning honey slow.
"I saved you a seat," Allison said when we walked back to the bleachers. I looked back at my dad and his eyes were narrowed, focusing right on Mr. Argent. Though he took on a welcoming tone when they stood face to face.
"Don't believe we've met," he noted.
Mr. Argent nodded and stuck out his hand. "Chris Argent," he introduced.
"Vincent Aretino." They shook hands briefly, squeezing a little tighter than necessary. It looked like they were trying to arm wrestle.
I noticed the gleam in Mr. Argent's eyes shift in a flash when my dad said his full name, but he smiled leisurely. He looked at my dad like they were friends but the ones you secretly held something against.
Allison and I exchanged confused looks and took our seats next to each other with our dad's right behind us, giving up proper privacy. Allison handed me some popcorn and I took a small handful. The players entered the field, everyone cheering excitedly for them. I noticed Scott's friend Stiles sitting on the bench down below, biting on the fingers of his glove.
The game started, and I lean forward in my seat, noticing a certain red head take a seat on Allison's right. Of course, it was no other than Lydia. I had to gnaw on the inside of my cheek to keep my manners about me. So I just concentrated on the game. This one actually looked promising to me. The ref blew the whistle and everything became a blur. Scott got knocked to the ground later at one point and Jackson managed to strike a goal. Everyone cheered for him, rising from their seats. I remained seated though, feeling bad for Scott as I watched him stand on his feet.
Lydia whispered something to Allison, clutching her arm, and they both held up a white sign that read WE LUV U JACKSON. I was actually surprised Allison agreed to it. I assumed she would cheer only for her boy.
Mr. Argent leaned over to Allison. "Which one is Scott again?" He asked.
Lydia made a sour face. "Number eleven. Otherwise known as the only one who hasn't caught a ball this entire game."
Allison was the opposite. She looked so worried. "I hope he's okay," she murmured.
"I hope we're okay," Lydia said.
"I hope Jackson stops being such a field whore," I snipped quite loudly, and instantly I could feel Lydia's laser vision bore into the side of my face. Allison looked like she wanted to laugh, covering her mouth with her fingers. Truth was, I really didn't have anything against Lydia's boyfriend. I just needed to say something to shut her up.
When the players took point in the center again, Lydia brandished another banner. "We need to win this," she said and stood up. "Allison?" She said, looking down at her expectantly. "A little help here?"
Allison rubbed her forehead and got up, then held up a corner of the card reluctantly, but this time it read JACKSON IS #1. I rolled my eyes at that. Well, if she wanted to show expressive support for a specific player then so could I.
I cupped my hands on either side of my mouth and leaned forward. "You can do it, Scott!" I called to him but I wasn't sure if he heard me, or even knew who I was. But I thought I saw him glance somewhere in my direction as though he were trying to pinpoint who the voice belonged to.
I glanced at Allison and she was looking at me with a tiny smile. Lydia, on the other hand, was glaring absolute fire. I smiled at her and turned back to the field. When the whistle blew, Scott became an animal. Figuratively speaking, of course. He zipped across the field like a Tasmanian Devil, scoring a flawless goal.
I jumped up from my seat and clapped for him.
He took point again, and amazingly, the exact same thing happened. He scored another goal, and it ripped through the goalie's catcher. Wow, he was really kicking ass.
The third time, Jackson took center field but Scott ended up with the ball again, bulldozing past every other player. A rivaling team member started charging toward him. I waited eagerly for him to make the goal, interlocking my hands together and holding them up to my lips. The audience fell silent for a minute, and I could hear the ticking of my dad's pocket watch.
Allison echoed me. "You can do it, Scott," she said under her breath.
Then...he scored it.
And the crowd went insane. Everyone ran from their seats, rushing to congratulate the winning team. Allison skipped forward to Scott, but he was already trampling half way toward the school. Was he sick again?
Allison ran after him, her dad watching carefully. I was the only one still on the bleachers, except for my dad, who was chatting on his cell and Mr. Stilinski, who was also on the phone. I watched the people celebrate on the field, hugging their respective players. I glanced behind my shoulder at my dad when I overheard him argue with someone on the phone.
After twenty minutes, he ended the call. "Well, that was quite a game," he commented.
"You barely watched it," I said.
He waved his hand dismissively. "Ah, you see one you've seen them all," he ranted and fixed the lapels of his coat. "Ready to go?" He asked. I nodded, and stood up with him, diving my icy hands into my pockets. Half way to our car, we were stopped by a small group of people. Two men and an older woman to be exact. They claimed to be friends with my dad and they chatted animatedly amongst themselves. I only smiled and nodded when one of them said something nice to me.
They droned on for minutes. So long that I started inspecting the heel of my boot. After a while, my eyes began to wander and I made out a figure standing alone in the lacrosse field.
"Jackson?" I whispered. I looked back to make sure my dad or his "friends" weren't paying attention then crept away to the field. Jackson stood with his shoulders slumped, his head angled to the ground like he was shamed about something.
"Hey, you okay?" I asked carefully. I didn't really know the guy but he looked really bummed. Did he take not being the center of attention that hard?
His demeanor straightened up as soon as he heard my voice. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. You know, just tired. From the game." He wiped an eyebrow with the back of his hand.
"You played great," I said sincerely. I was being honest. He was actually a terrific lacrosse player.
Jackson scoffed. "Shouldn't you be congratulating McCall? He's the one who scored the winning goal."
"He's not the only one on the team," I said.
Suddenly, Jackson kind of...lost it. "You're damn right he isn't. I worked my ass off to get here. I'm not loosing to that asshead!" I backed up a couple steps by his outburst, the hostile glint in his eye startling me. He noticed that I was unnerved, and his expression thawed a little.
"Look, I -" he started to say.
"It's fine," I cut in. "I get what you mean." I smiled in a peace offering-like way and he smirked in return. My dad called my name in the parking lot, sounding ticked off that I sneaked away like that. I glanced over at my dad then back at Jackson.
"That's my cue," I said with a frown. "See you later?"
"Guess you will," Jackson said, and graced me with a wink. I gave one last smile then hurried back to my dad before he could throw a fit. I followed him back to the car, and slid into the passenger seat.
"Who were those people you were talking to?" I asked when he revved up the engine.
"Oh, just some old college buddies," he replied then raised the volume on the radio. I took that as I sign that he wanted me to drop the subject so I did. A jazz station played soft music for about ten minutes, but then was interrupted by breaking news.
"Police have confirmed that Derek Hale has been released from jail earlier this evening due to lack of evidence and mismatched DNA on the victim's body. County Sheriff's refuse to give a statement at this time," a radio host declared.
My heart trapped in my throat. He's free? I thought. I didn't know if that was good or bad. He may have been an innocent man but thinking about him now made my stomach churn with uneasiness. I didn't know what it was but at that moment, I was grateful that there was a little something called instinct. It was there for you when nothing else was.
And it told me to stay far away from Derek.
A/N: I can't thank you guys enough for all the feedback you sent for the first chapter. It means so much to me and I'm really happy you guys are enjoying it so far so thank you so much!
I know there wasn't much Derek until the very middle, but don't worry there's LOTS of him in the next one! I want to take things slow between them but I don't want to overly prolong the romance because then that would be no fun. :D
Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it.
Let me know what you think? :) I hope I didn't disappoint.
Sorry if there's any typos.