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"Everything that I can't say will fade away, and no-one knows what we were. Or what we could've been...

...What if we could go back to the beginning: where we went wrong? We went wrong and I, I've never been so cold. I've never been so alone. It's getting colder and colder.

Scream at the top of my lungs, tell you that we were wrong from the start. I'd say 'take back everything you said that you didn't mean; which was everything.'"

-To Be Juliet's Secret, Wrong From The Start.

I teach through my three hip hop classes with my mind fixed on Derek, and our unwanted run–in this morning. Most of them are freshman girls. The last class I have is my only couples' dancing class—which Stiles is in.

"Hi, Ms. Duchannes. I'm Stiles Stilinski." he says with a smile. I smile back, trying not to laugh.

"Hello, Stiles." I replied coolly. A messy black-haired boy beside him looks over at me with a wild, curious gaze. He's a Beta. Bitten by the Alpha.

"You must be Scott McCall. Finstock let me know that you would be with Stiles." He nods, giving me the same hot-for-teacher look I get when the rest of the males in the class trail in with lead feet.

One looks particularly cocky. The boy appraises me with the same regard Kate gave Derek. Like meat.

"Alright! You all need to sit down," I call over their voices. The boys instantly do as I ask obediently. The girls politely follow. Except for meat boy.

"Sit," I nod.

"What, are you going to punish me if I don't?" He replies in a suggestive and arrogant tone, openly looking at my chest.

"Shut up, Jackson!" Stiles bellows.

"Okay. One, eyes up here, Jackson. And two, you wish I would punish you you cocky little shit." The teens burst into shocked laughter at my words, "Now sit the hell down, or I'll make sure you don't play in your lacrosse game tonight."

He does, grumbling.

"Okay. First rule of my class is I don't want to be called 'Ms Duchannes.' That's my mother and my sister, not me. Call me Makaylah. Rule two; I won't take any of your shit. Jackson demonstrated my point five seconds ago. You respect me, I'll respect you. Understand?"

"Yes," they chorus.

"Third rule; I don't do paper assignments. All of them are participation. If you're absent, I expect you to come in during intervention in the morning and catch up on the steps you missed.

Here's my last rule; Follow basic school rules; phones, bullying, all that. Got it? Good. Okay. Right now, I want you to stand up when I read your name off of role. If you try to play me, I'll know. I have two younger twin brothers that are around your age."

I pick up my clipboard to read off the names. Only fourteen kids; 8 girls and 6 boys.

"Allison Ar–" I stiffen at the first last name on my list, "Allison Argent. Jennifer Arthur. Jenna Baker. Jason Balvin. Lisa Briggs. Jade Chambers. Mackenzie Griffin. Stephanie Jones. Danny Mahealani. Lydia Martin. Scott McCall. Shawn Nelson. Stiles Stilinski. And Jackson Whittemore." They're all standing patiently.

"Okay. I want you to stand with the person you'd like as your partner for this Quarter." Allison stands next to Scott, Lydia next to Jackson, Danny blushes but stands with a human girl, and then Stiles is left alone.

"Take a long, good look because you won't be dancing with this person for 9 more weeks. Which one of you boys want to be my partner?" 6 hands shoot up.

I smirk as I re-arrange couples. I pair the Argent with Jackson. Stiles with Lydia.

"Scott, you're stuck with me." I smile. The boys all groan unhappily.

"I'm going to teach you the first six steps of a swing routine. Does anyone have any idea how to swing dance, a general idea?"

Stiles raises his hand.

"Alright, Stiles. Get over here." I tease, bending down to switch on the music. He takes both hands, the way I taught him back when I babysat him, and dances right on timing with me–throwing spins in.

When we stop, the class claps.

I laugh at the terrified look on Scott's face. Teaching them is easy—most of them pick it up quickly. The bell rings, and I finally relax.

"Thanks for being such an easy class," I say at the end.

They trickle out and I walk out of the building, only to find him leaning up against a sleek black sportscar, waiting for me. My lips press into a hard line and I turn to walk past him. His long fingers close around my wrist and I crash into his chest.

"Please just leave me alone, Derek." I whisper, not trusting my voice. My pulse jumps erratically, my blood pounding and boiling through my veins.

"No. I've left you alone for eight years. Isn't that long enough?" He whispers in response. I look away from him, glancing at the cement.

"Makaylah, please talk to me." he begs in the same pained tone of voice that made me give in to him that night. One hand moves to the small of my back to pull me tighter against him. I whimper.

"Fine." I growl, "I'll go with you." Derek smirks at me before releasing my arm. I walk around the car and climb into the passenger seat.

We drive for God knows how long into the trees. I trace him with my eyes, taking in every inch of him within eyesight. My eyes stop on his bicep again, watching the muscle stretch and flex with steering the car.

"Why didn't you ever talk to me?" He growls.

"What?" I break free from my dazed ogling. It takes a moment to realize we've stopped.

"When Laura called you, you refused to talk to me. It killed me when you did that to me!" He doesn't waste time starting the conversation I prayed wouldn't happen.

"You wanna talk about being hurt? You used me for sex and then let me wake up alone!" I shout, turning in my seat to face him.

"You think I came to your house just for sex? I–I didn't. I just needed to be close to you and things got out of hand."

"Yeah, I know. You didn't have a condom and I ended up paying for it."

"What are you talking about? 'You had to pay for it'?"

"I...I can't." I can't say it. I've never said it aloud before. My eyes burn with the threat of tears.

"Did you get an STD?"

"No. Nothing like that." I tuck my hair behind my ear. He reaches forward and sets his large hand on my cheek. I shudder, jerking away. He flinches.

"Makaylah, I care about you. I always have."

"I. Don't. Believe. You." I reply through gritted teeth, "You chose Kate over me. I was in love with you, Derek. I had sex with you because I loved you."

"You used to love me or you still do?" He challenges. I meet his dark teal gaze. He's moved closer to me, close enough I can almost feel his heart pounding through both our clothes. His breath washes over my lips.

"Makaylah, answer me. Are. You. Still. In. Love. With. Me?" His lips brush mine as he asks me again. I set both hands on his chest and push him away from me.

"Stop it." I breathe, the tears blurring my vision now. I choke them back, open the door, and get out of his car. I knew this was wrong.

He follows me, this time, backing me into a tree. Derek's lower body crushes mine.

"I didn't mean to upset you. I just...I missed you." He reaches up to run his finger along my jaw. I swallow heavily, ignoring the desire to pull him down to my level and kiss the hell out of him.

"Derek..." I trail off, "You scare the hell out of me." I shove him away from me once again. Without another word, I turn on my heels and walk into the woods.

I call the Sheriff and let him know I'll be staying with my sister for the night. Tomorrow is PT conference and I'm not required because of my limited amount of teaching time. Myra lives in a house in a small city 30 minutes from Beacon Hills called Blackfoot.

Myra opens the door seconds before I reach the handle. Her pregnant belly is rounded and large. I fling myself into her arms and hug her tightly.

"I missed you so much," she tells me. I smile.

"I missed you too. So, when's your due date?" I ask as we walk inside her home. Her arm rests lightly on my shoulders. Her husband, another Beta named Anthony, kisses me on the cheek.

"Hey, Tony. How are you?" I reply with a smile.

"Wonderful. Waiting for Little Laura to come." I look over at my sister at the name.

"Laura Christine Greyson." She nods. Naming my niece after our best friend.

"Speaking of the Hales..." I start, "I saw Derek."

She stiffens immediately. Anger drifts from her in waves.

"He–He's here? In Beacon Hills?"

"Yeah." I sit across from her at her kitchen table, turning an orange over in my fingers.

"Did you kick his ass?"

"No. We fought about what happened."

"And did you tell him?" She replies sourly. I don't have time to answer, my 15 year old twin brothers run into the room and each hug me with spinning me around in circles. I burst out giggling.

"When did you get so tall?" I tease, looking up at them. Ethan and Aiden both were born with the Beta gene, thankfully.

"While you were off being a dance big-shot at USC." Ethan teases, as Aiden sets me on his shoulders, my legs on either side. I laugh even harder.

"Put me down!" I flip gracefully from his back, landing on the balls of my feet. They look similar to my sister and I with our sepia brown hair, dark eyes, and tanned skin.

I don't say any more about Derek. Or the secret I'm so desperate to keep from him; the fact that I got pregnant the night of the fire and miscarried our baby.