Hi again! Welcome back to another chapter. This is a little shorter than others and admittedly slightly filler, but I hope you enjoy! Please Review, Favorite, Follow, anything at all! It delights me and makes me want to keep writing!
Teen Wolf and Buffy aren't mine, I just love them.
'Note to self, Grace: No wearing shirts with pithy sayings about being caught in front of the sheriff of your new town.'
Sheriff Stilinski eyed the blonde girl standing on his doorstep. Grace watched him take in her ripped up jeans, her leather biker jacket, and the cut off t-shirt that proclaimed in bright blue and unmistakable letters: Remember, if we get caught, you're deaf and I don't speak English.
He crossed his arms over his uniform and smiled. It was a nice expression, but still suspicious. He was still pretty handsome for his age, Grace thought, with blue eyes and sandy colored hair. Grace supposed that Stiles probably looked a little more like his mother.
"Can I help you, Ms..?"
"Oh! Montgomery. Grace Montgomery. I go to school with Stiles, we were supposed to work on a Chemistry project today." Grace stuck her hand out and gave his a firm shake. Slowly, the sheriff relaxed and really smiled, standing aside to gesture into the house.
"Go on in. I have to get to work. Stiles is still sleeping but feel free to wake him up. It's about time anyway." Grace smiled and nodded, hefting her backpack over her shoulder.
"Good thing I brought a megaphone and a pack of party poppers." The sheriff chuckled good-naturedly and made his way over to the car in the driveway. Grace closed the door behind her and looked around. The house was nice, if messy. Papers were scattered all over the dining room table – newspaper clippings, pictures, what have you. Nothing looked case sensitive to Grace, though the sheriff had circled a couple newspaper headlines in red. They both looked to be about the murder.
Putting the paper back where she found it, Grace began to make her way upstairs.
"Stilinski! Hey, Stilinski!" She knocked on the first door she came to and upon hearing nothing, poked her head in. It was a bathroom and unless Stiles was sleeping behind the curtain, he probably wasn't in here. She tried the next one, rapping her knuckles against the wood.
"Yo! Stilinski! Get your ass up, we have work to do." She heard a slight groan and what faintly sounded like 'Go away' from the other side of the door, so Grace figured this was her best bet. Covering her eyes with a hand, she poked her head in.
"Stiles, if you're watching porn this would be a good time to stop." She didn't get a response, so she slowly cracked her fingers and peered through the gap. She spotted Stiles pretty immediately, curled up into a ball under his covers, muttering in his sleep. His room was an absolute tip. If the floor hadn't been scattered with papers it would probably be fairly normal – lots of blue, lots of posters on the wall, clothes tossed about. But bending down and plucking one of the papers from the floor, Grace found herself reading an article about werewolves of all things. She furrowed her brow and picked up another – wolfsbane. Another – silver. Either Stiles had an obsession with werewolves, or something freaky was going on.
Sighing softly, Grace put the papers down on the desk and walked over to the bed. She dropped down, sitting on the edge and reached over, nudging Stiles repeatedly.
"Hey, Stilinski…Stilinski!...STILES!" He jerked awake with a yelp, peering at her with confusion for a minute before gaping and yanking the covers up to cover his nipples. Grace snorted and rolled her eyes.
"W-what the hell?! Why are you in my room?!" He asked, scrambling away and looking her with confusion. He blinked, then leaned in conspiratorially, brown eyes wide. He flicked his tongue over his lips.
"Am I dreaming?"
Grace laughed and pushed him before standing up, tossing her jacket over his desk chair.
"No, dingus. We had a Chemistry project to do. I brought food." She hefted the large white and red paper bag she had been carrying, sending the smell of fast food wafting around the room. Stiles sleepily reached for it, but she tugged it out of his reach.
"Clothes first, food after. I don't need to see morning treating you so kindly." The blonde laughed as Stiles yelped again and looked down. He found nothing in particular looking back at him and glared at her as she left the room.
She spent a couple minutes in the hall playing with her phone while she listened to Stiles thump around in the room. Just as she was getting to another level in Reaper, he banged the door open, clad in a pair of jeans and a gray t-shirt with a House Stark emblem on the front. Grace scoffed.
"Oh please, Targaryen all the way, bitches. Three-headed dragon for life." Stiles' jaw flapped for a moment before he shook his head, letting her back into the bedroom.
"I don't think I have the patience to talk about your poor life choices. Food." Stiles sat down on his bed and smiled, sniffing deeply from the bag that she handed him.
"I figured burgers and fries would be a good bet." She said, sitting cross legged at the end of the bed and digging into her own bag. Stiles nodded eagerly and began to stuff his face with curly fries.
"Swo wha' do foo think fwe shoul' do?" He asked, munching loudly and for all appearances happily. Grace's brow wrinkled as she puzzled out what he had said.
"Oh. Well I was thinking water into wine, but I don't think Harris would like that. And then I thought we could blow something up but I think that would get us in trouble." Grace bit her lip as Stiles chuckled, forcefully swallowing his mouthful of fries. He hacked a little bit but recovered before she had to pound on his back.
"We could make fake snot." He suggested before taking a monstrous bite of his burger. Grace smiled and nodded.
"And gross out all the girly girls." They grinned at each other, partners in crime for just a moment, before Grace cleared her throat.
"So about the party…?" Was it just her imagination or did Stiles suddenly get very uncomfortable?
"Y-yeah?" He tried to hide the nervous twinge in his voice by taking another burger bite and leaning against the bedroom wall.
"What the hell was all that? Is Scott alright?" She asked, leaning back against the footboard and crossing her arms. Stiles bobbed his head.
"Oh, oh yeah he's fine. He just had an attack."
"Asthma?"
"Yeah! He, uh, couldn't find his inhaler so I said I'd go help him look."
"And ditch me at the party."
"Yeah! What?" Stiles coughed as Grace raised an eyebrow at him testily. He sighed and tossed away what little remained of his meal.
"Sorry about that. The whole 'leaving the party' thing." He said, looking genuinely contrite. Grace couldn't help but smile just a little bit.
"Hey it's cool. It's not like we were on a date or anything. You can make it up to me sometime. It's Allison and Scott I'm worried about." Stiles dipped his head and nodded, grimacing a little bit.
"Allison's going back and forth about being mad and being upset. She's already texted me like…a billion times. He's going to have to do some groveling for that fiasco to be made up." Stiles chuckled and shook his head, leaning into the headboard.
"Won't be a problem." Grace laughed slightly and bobbed her head, tossing some curly fries into her mouth.
"Oh yeah. I've never seen bigger moon eyes." They sat in comfortable silence for a few moments, before Stiles perked up, frowning at her.
"House Targaryen? Really?"
Grace rolled her eyes at him. "Yes, House T. Dany is a bad ass bitch, haven't you heard?" Stiles huffed and leaned in, putting his elbows on his knees.
"But like, the Starks." He said, waving his hands in the air spastically. "Winterfell is badass-"
"Was badass-"
"Okay yeah was. And the Starks are survivors."
Grace scoffed. "Funny for a house with nearly everyone dead."
What followed for the next few hours was one of the stranger and nerdier conversations of Grace's life. She was used to debating the merits of television show characters with her father, but once they branched into Batman, Superman, and how many horror movies they'd seen and if they were any good, Grace realized she was a little out of her depth. She didn't get a lot of time to sit down and read comics or watch movies that might freak her little siblings out, so when Stiles went into a stream of praise for The Wolfman, Grace had to stop him.
"Uh, sorry to burst your nerdy bubble Stilinski, but I've never seen that." Stiles looked at her, mouth agape.
"You've NEVER seen The Wolfman? How about Nosferatu? The Mummy? Frankenstein? Night of the Living Dead? Dracula?!" He asked, gesturing wildly in the air. Grace perked up.
"Oh that I've seen. Time and time again." She said, trailing off and shaking her head.
Stiles groaned dramatically, dropping his face into his hand. "This is so not okay."
"What do you propose we do about my apparently appalling lack of classic monster movie experience then, Stilinski?" She asked, crossing her arms and eyeing him.
Stiles lifted his face up and rolled his eyes before grabbing a piece of paper and writing things down. "You free on Friday?" Grace nodded. Stiles pointed at her almost violently with the pen.
"Good. You, here, 7 o clock. We'll start educating you. At least one of my friends needs to know about this stuff." He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as Grace giggled and saluted him.
"Aye aye Captain. Wait, friends?" She asked, tipping her head.
Stiles nodded at her slowly. "Yeah. You don't look at me like I'm crazy or you're confused when I talk about this stuff."
Grace grinned. "I'm a good actress."
Stiles rolled his eyes. "Gee, thanks. I must be a nut. "
"Nuttier than a fruitcake."
Stiles frowned, furrowing his brow. "You know, that doesn't make a lot of sense. I mean, does a fruitcake have nuts in it? Or is the fruit nut-like?"
Grace shrugged, taking her phone out as it buzzed. As Stiles went into a long vocal reasoning of the origin of that particular saying, Grace scrolled down to the new text from Allison.
'Hey, are you busy?'
'Not really. Just listening to Stiles talk about fruitcake.'
'Wait, what? You guys are hanging out? :)' Grace rolled her eyes and responded.
'We've got a Chemistry project to do but we got sidetracked and started talking about Batman and monster movies I haven't seen. But I think I'm free. Don't think we're gonna be doing anything productive.'
'Do you want to hang out tonight? Maybe sleep over? I could use some company.' Grace let out a humming noise in her throat, causing Stiles to stop in his tracks, his arms paused in the air from where they were waving wildly as he was debating the merits and faults of fruitcake and whether or not they were nutty.
"What?"
"It's Allison. She wanted to hang out tonight. And…" Grace quickly typed in a few things in Google before looking up. "Sometimes fruitcakes have nuts."
Stiles dropped his arms, looking a little put out. "Oh. Well but thank you to the internet for taking the mystery out shit." He sighed. Grace chuckled before checking the time. It was about four.
"Wow. That's a geeking out record for yours truly. I should get going." As she hopped up from the bed, Stiles deflated a little bit.
"I'll see you at school?" He asked, trailing after her as she walked down the stairs.
"You bet. And Friday, I'll be here." As they reached the front door, she held her fist up, which he readily bumped with his own. She stepped out into the afternoon sunshine, then turned back to look at him.
"And Stiles?" He paused in the process of closing the front door.
"Might want to check your furry obsession. Ta!" With a quick wave, Grace strode down the walkway, marching to the beat of Stiles' loud sigh.
When she got back home, no one was around. There was a note on the fridge from her father that proclaimed he was working late but that Annie and Michael were going to be staying at friend's houses. Grace expected as much, considering both of her siblings were about as sociable and precocious as a pod of dolphins, but the last part surprised her.
'There is a package on your bed that got dropped off while you were out.' A package? She hadn't ordered anything. Maybe it was an explosive. Or a weapon. Or something threatening from one of the undead Americans that had found out she was here.
Grabbing a can of Coke out of the fridge, Grace stomped her way upstairs and into her bedroom. It looked exactly as before, save for the large brown box sitting on her purple duvet. She dropped her backpack on the ground and walked over. It was kinda weird, bound with some hemp string in a cross pattern and it appeared to be made of wood. There was a note tucked under the string, which Grace popped open as she sat down on her bed.
It was a small handwritten note in clean, crisp writing.
'I think this will be helpful to you, and in light of recent developments, please come speak to me at your earliest convenience, Slayer.
- Deaton.'
Grace put the note down, her heart pounding. What did a vet know about what she was? How had he even found out? Dr. Deaton apparently was more than he seemed. But he wanted to help her, maybe. And considering all the little weird things slowly coming to light, she figured she could use it.
Slowly, she tugged apart the hemp and lifted the lid to the wooden box. Inside was a large old leather-bound tome with golden details and golden edged pages. In the front, in bold golden letters, was the word Vampyr.
Unlocking the sides and flipping it open, Grace was greeted with pages upon pages of lore about vampires, demons, creatures she had never imagined. The pictures were gruesome and the language was a slog, but she couldn't help but feel a little bit of awe. Here was what she was, all in these pictures, in these letters. Here was what she fought, what she defended against. She had pieced together some bits on her own after that day, the night she had had gruesome nightmares and woken up changed. But so much of it was hidden from her. She found her calling naturally over time on instinct. It had been instinct that had her kicking and punching when that vampire had jumped her on her way home one night after she had snuck out and gone to a party. It was instinct that had her grabbing a piece of wood – a discarded chair leg - and plunging it straight into his heart. Grace fought with her instinct now and not really any training other than what she picked up and mimicked in movies and videos on the internet.
But there was so much she didn't know, and if Deaton could help her, could teach her, even give her the tiniest bit of knowledge? Well, then she was all ears.
She quickly picked up her phone and sent Allison a quick text.
'How about you come get me at 8ish at my place? I have some things I have to do first.'
'Sure! I'll see you soon.' Putting the book back in the box and tucking it under her arm, Grace hurried out of the house, almost running down the street in her haste to realize her destiny.
The sign on the door said closed, but it was unlocked. The little bell dinged as she pushed the door open, striding into the waiting area. There wasn't anyone behind the desk.
"Dr. Deaton? Hello?" There was a shuffling sound from somewhere else in the building and within a few moments, Deaton revealed himself. He was dressed casually beneath his white coat and looked pleasantly surprised, his hands clasped behind his back.
"Ah, Ms. Montgomery. I was wondering when I would see you next." He smiled and lifted the countertop to the side, allowing her access to the back of the office. She smiled at him a little awkwardly as they came into what looked like an operating room. She set the big box down on the table and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
"So, you wanted me to come see you." She asked, glancing around the room.
Deaton nodded slowly, eyeing her. She fidgeted under his gaze, almost feeling as if she was being sized up.
"So, how does a veterinarian know about this stuff?" Grace asked. He smiled slightly and opened the box again, revealing the golden title.
"I'm only a veterinarian part of the time. I knew that a new Slayer would be coming to town soon but I did not know it was you until I did a little research." Grace furrowed her brow and crossed her arms. "You were looking into me?"
Deaton had the grace to smile. "With good reason. Strange things are beginning to happen around here and having an educated Slayer would be wise. How much exactly do you know about yourself, Ms. Montgomery?"
Grace hopped up on the table, sitting and kicking her feet. She watched her combat boots obscure and then reveal the clean white tile. "It's Grace. And not that much. I know my title. I know generally what I'm supposed to do. But no one was ever around to teach me. I had to pick up a lot on my own." Deaton nodded as if he had expected this.
"I do not perhaps have all the knowledge one usually has to train a Slayer, but I know a fair amount, and I can help train you in combat. I am not asking you to trust me, Grace, but I believe that preparing you would be wise not only for the oddities that are now cropping up in our town, but for the future as well. I do not expect you'll be living on Beacon Hills all your life and there is evil around every corner and in every dark alley."
Grace chuckled a little nervously. "That's quite the pep talk you have there." She hopped off the table and nodded.
"Alright, I'm in. So when do we start?" Dr. Deaton smiled at her with surprising warmth and sympathy, and then crooked his finger at her.
"Right now. Come with me, please. Bring the book." Hefting the heavy tome off the table, she followed him through a room filled with kitties – it was hard to resist stopping to pet them – and through another door that led to the basement. It was a fairly large, non-descript room, with some shelves that were mostly empty. If not for the equipment that looked fairly new, Grace would guess that people didn't come down here much.
"For the time being, out in the yard or down here is where I'll be helping you train." He gestured at the wooden post with various appendages, at the weight equipment, at the rack of weapons in the corner. Grace saw a sword on the far wall and perked up, walking over to it. She plucked it from the rack and unsheathed it, letting the fluorescent light play off the patterns in the metal. The hilt was wire wrapped, the pommel a simple golden metal round. It looked old, but well taken care of.
"Hello, beauty."
"For now, we'll stick to the basics of hand to hand and weaponry, I think. I'd like to gauge your natural ability first before we branch out."
Grace nodded, putting the beautiful sword away with some reluctance. "So what ne-" Her sentence was cut off with a yelp as she turned, finding Deaton swinging a quarter staff straight at her head. Grace lifted her arm to block it, ignoring the spike of pain in her forearm as she twisted her arm and spun, wrenching the staff from his grasp and pointing it at him.
Gasping slightly from the pain in her arm, Grace tossed the staff aside and glared at him. "What the hell?!"
Deaton clasped his hands behind his back again, as if that exchange had been completely normal. "You have good reflexes."
Grace huffed slightly, still wary for any sudden projectiles. "Thanks."
He gave her a slight smile, then stepped forwards and gently clasped her arm, causing her to wince.
"But that would have been better sidestepped. You'll have some bruising here tomorrow. It's a wonder the bone isn't broken." Grace flushed slightly and managed an embarrassed smile.
"You did swing pretty hard."
Dr. Deaton smiled and patted her on the shoulder. "We'll start your proper training soon. For now, please." He gestured at the dummy and Grace nodded. Her leather jacket was slung over a spare chair. As Grace cracked her neck and lifted her fists in preparation, Deaton stood beside her, looking her over. It made her uncomfortable to be sized up and judged like she knew he was doing, but she knew she needed this. She needed a teacher.
"Drop your shoulder just a little bit and turn more to the left. Minimize your target. Good." He gave her a quick smile, and then indicated the dummy.
"Begin."
Grace was frozen for a moment, trying to decide what to do. Unbidden, her very first fight came into her head. The night she had killed her first vampire.
It had been a little bit after one in the morning. Grace had been 14 and suffering from nightmares that had been keeping her up all night – gruesome things she didn't want to think about. She had snuck out to go to a party that night that a senior in her school had been holding in an effort to find something to stop the screaming in her dreams. She had left the party pretty buzzed and high, but too much to not notice someone following her. She'd tried to take a shortcut through an alley that would have delivered her almost to her doorstep, but just as she'd stepped into it, she felt a hand on her shoulder spin her around to pin her to the alley wall and a hand clamp over her mouth. She'd reacted blindly, jamming her knee upwards between her attacker's thighs, her right fist cracking as hard as she could into his jaw. The man had stumbled back, clutching his face, and when he looked back up, his monstrous visage had stolen the breath right out her.
His face was twisted, his teeth were massive and jagged, and his bloodshot yellow eyes looked at her with pure hatred and hunger. Grace had never been so terrified in her entire life. He came at her again and she struck out, jamming a fist into his stomach and landing another kick into his shin, but it barely deterred the creature. He slammed into her, pinning her against the ground. As she struggled to keep him from biting down on her with one arm, Grace's other hand searched around for something, anything, and had found something entirely innocuous – an old chair leg. First she cracked him hard with it, causing the leg to splinter, but doing the job. He yowled and rolled, taking her with him. In the split second where she found herself on top before he could pin her again, she screamed and stabbed wildly downwards. The broken chair leg plunged right into his heart and Grace found herself panting and crying in a pool of dust.
Standing in the basement, Grace felt that fear anew, and punched forwards, cracking the dummy hard in the middle pole. A series of blocks splintered a few of the arms and with each hit, Grace felt some of that fear uncoil in her stomach and pour out, empowering her hits. She would never tell anyone, never show anyone, but she was afraid and deathly so. Of herself, of what she could do, of what she apparently had to do. And she didn't even know how. She knew how to hit hard, how to hunt down a vampire, how to save a life or two, but the idea of doing it all alone with no one to help her was frightening. She could never tell her father or her siblings or any of her friends because Grace would never put them in danger. So she was all alone, up against vampires and cults and demons and god knew what else.
She felt a hand on her shoulder, causing her to start.
"I think that's enough, Grace." She was brought back to the present by Deaton's voice, soft but commanding. Before her were the ruins of a wooden dummy. Grace looked down at her hands and found the skin a little cracked and bloody, splinters sticking out at odd angles. She hadn't even noticed the pain.
Deaton patted her gently on the shoulder before gesturing back up at the stairwell.
"Come on. We'll get those splinters out before you go."
Feeling dazed and vaguely afraid of something she didn't understand, she followed him up the stairs.
Grace made her way home, her hands shoved in her pockets and her head hanging. Her headphones were in her ears, but she barely noticed the thudding beats. She felt strange, like doing something as simple as punching that dummy had opened up something she had been ignoring for awhile. Remembering her first fight felt like it had happened to someone else, like she had just been watching. Grace had been able to distance herself from that event, to soldier on like nothing happened. She had to, for the sake of her family.
But it was almost as if Deaton knew exactly what he was doing when he had her stop and analyze. When Grace fought, she didn't think. She just let her body lead, her mind going into an empty space. Everything was dull and quiet. When she dropped a vampire, she felt nothing except pleasure with the fact she had lived another night.
But now she felt like her fear was painted in technicolor and she felt painfully awake.
With a sigh, she stopped, dropping down to a bench and resting her head in her hands. Her hair cascaded around her face like a blanket.
'Just don't think about it right now. Think about anything else. Your mom leaving – no, not that. The last thing I need to think about is her. Stiles. Think about Stiles. He's funny, right? He wants to hang out with you. He's totally into another girl but he wants to hang out. Having friends is nice, right Grace?'
But even thinking about the fun she had had earlier with her new friend wasn't helping. She just felt guilty. What if she and Stiles got close and became good friends and her destiny got him hurt or even killed? She wouldn't be able to live with herself. What if it happened to Allison? She really liked Allison. Grace didn't think she'd ever met a gentler and kinder person in her entire life and not being able to see that anymore would hurt. Even though she had only known Allison a little over a week now, Grace was already attached. Allison and Stiles were just starting out with their lives, but Grace felt like she herself was already so much older than them. They had potential, and Grace would be fighting on the front lines in a war she would never be able to tell them about.
Grace was drawn from her introspection by a loud honk. She leapt up from the bench to find Allison pulling up in her car. The window rolled down and the brunette pushed open the passenger side door with a concerned expression.
"Hey, is everything okay?" She asked, waiting until Grace had gotten in and buckled before continuing down the road. Grace nodded, managing to wrestle up a smile.
"Yeah, it's just a headache. No big. I need to get back to my place first and get some things together, but then we can go."
Allison gave her a long look like she wanted to ask her more, but she eventually smiled and nodded, relenting. "I already asked my parents and they're fine with it. I think they're thrilled that I'm making new friends so quickly."
Grace chuckled, tucking her headphones out of the way. She looked down at her shirt, her eyes finding a couple of spots of blood on the white fabric – she must have put her bloody hands against it earlier. She pulled her leather jacket a little closer to her body, hoping Allison hadn't seen.
"Maybe I should change, then. I don't think they'd let me back in the house if they saw me like this."
Allison chuckled a little bit and flipped on the radio, seeming to sense the fact that Grace felt off and Grace loved her for it. She managed to collect herself to the sound of Santigold coming in through the speakers.
I'm fighting when you fall back; I'm shooting arrows at the sky.
Slowly, Grace relaxed, leaning back into the car seat and staring up through the sunroof. The stars whizzed by in little points of light as they drove, Allison singing softly under her breath.
"So what did you and Stiles do?" The brunette eventually asked, gently taking a left turn. Grace looked up and smiled.
"Just, you know. Hung out. Talked about stuff. He chastised me for not seeing as many classic monster movies as he has."
Allison smiled, sending her a sideways glance. Grace picked up on the subtext immediately and rolled her eyes. "No, Allison. I just like talking to him. And he's into Lydia. No sparking here."
Allison furrowed her brow as she pulled into Grace's driveway. "Really?" She turned the car off and both of the girls hopped out, making their way into the house. Grace bobbed her head.
"Oh yeah, big time. Can't blame him though. I'd do her silly. Dad! Are you here?"
As Allison laughed a little bit, her father poked his head out of the den, adjusting his glasses as he came out. He looked like he had been preoccupied, but when he saw his smiling daughter and her friend, he looked pleased and fully focused. He extended his hand to Allison and smiled warmly.
"Jason Montgomery. You must be Allison Argent. Grace speaks highly of you."
Allison blushed prettily and shook his hand. "She does?"
Grace's father beamed and playfully nudged his daughter. "Oh yes, and I for one am pleased she has managed to make a friend with someone lacking neck tattoos."
Grace rolled her eyes and started to usher Allison up the stairs. "Okay dad! That's enough! Come on, let's go pack before he whips out the baby pictures." Allison laughed.
"Aw, I bet you were cute as a baby, Grace."
"Don't push it, lady."
"I don't get it, Allison."
"Don't get what?"
Grace gestured with the hand currently not clasping strands of Allison's dark hair. After packing up a few things from Grace's room and clearing it with her dad, the girls had made their way over to the Argent's. Her parents had been as coolly courteous as before, and Grace had made sure to keep her jacket zipped up until they made it to Allison's bedroom, where they had changed into pajamas and curled up with snacks and popcorn. Grace was sporting a pair of black boy shorts and a cutoff Rolling Stones tee, though Allison was of course cuter in her floral nightie. They'd painted each other's nails, talked about boys for a little bit, and were now snuggled up under the covers, admiring the good looks of Gregory Peck in Roman Holiday.
"You haven't said a word about Scott yet." Grace said, twining Allison's pretty dark hair into braids. Allison dipped her head thoughtfully and sighed.
"I'm mad at him, but also not. I should totally hate him. It was a jerk thing to do. He disappeared and abandoned me there."
"But you don't hate him."
Allison shook her head and sighed deeply, leaning into Grace's hands as the blonde plaited her hair into an elaborate braided style. They sat quietly for a few moments, watching the movie, until Allison broke the silence again.
"He was really sweet before everything happened. What do you think I should do?"
Grace shrugged, tying off the end of her hair. "I think you should give him another chance. He's totally into you, it's obvious. And you'll never know if you don't talk to him."
Allison looked at her inquisitively before resting her head on Grace's arm. "You say that like you've had to deal with guys doing stuff like this before."
Grace laughed, shoving a few sour gummi worms into her mouth and rolling her eyes. "Oh, many times. Guys are weird, strange little creatures and we must give them the benefit of the doubt sometimes."
Allison let out an unlady-like snort before she dissolved into giggles, burrowing her face in the blankets. Grace shook her head.
"It wasn't that funny, weirdo." Allison popped her head back up and bit her lip.
"It's just...worms were hanging out of your mouth, and I couldn't help thinking you were kind of the pot calling the kettle black."
Grace rolled her eyes again with fake exasperation, bumping her forehead against Allison's shoulder.
"Shutup."
