The high from winning the first lacrosse game lasted all throughout the next week; so did Allison's excitement about her first kiss with Scott. She'd given me a full report on what had happened inside the locker room: Allison's horror flick moment in the dark, Scott's apology for his weird-ass behavior, her encouragement, and their extremely enjoyable kisses. Then, of course, Stiles had walked in and made everything a little awkward, but not enough to put a damper on Allison's mood. It had been a week, and she still hadn't stopped talking about it.

Allison and I talked about Scott when she came over to Lydia's house to study for chemistry. We talked about Scott to distract ourselves before we took the test. We talked about Scott when we went out to celebrate passing the test. And of course, we talked about Scott all the other times in between. The only time we weren't talking about Scott was when we were with Scott, and then, it was only because Scott and Allison were too busy staring at each other to talk to anyone else.

I was caught between playful amusement and pulling my hair out of my scalp in chunks. I didn't blame either of them, and I was happy they were so content, but it was beginning to get a little grating. And Allison was trying, at least for my benefit, but even when she intentionally started conversations about non-Scott topics, her mind always seemed to wander back to the same thing.

All in all, I was looking forward to a quiet weekend in. It was Saturday, and I fully intended on spending the entire day with my mom. Lydia and Natalie were both out on their own errands, which gave us full reign of the living room. We were going to watch movies and eat raw cookie dough until we felt sick.

At least, that had been the plan. Right up until I received a string of frantic texts from Allison.

"Hey Sadie! What's up?"

"Hey, do you have plans today?"

"I kind of need to talk to you about something."

"When you get the chance. Please?"

"Could you come over?"

"Emergency!"

I frowned, my brain already cycling through all the terrible possibilities, but sent back a simple reply.

"I was supposed to hang out with my mom, but I guess I can stop by. Is everything okay?"

I tucked the phone back in my pocket and knocked on the door to my mother's office before poking my head inside. It was a small cramped room on the first floor, made more cramped by the massive amount of paper that always seemed to be lying around, but its corner position meant that it had two huge windows that always let in the afternoon sun.

"Hey, Mom?"

"Hm?" She looked up from the middle of the mess, one hand on her laptop while the other fiddled with her reading glasses. "I swear, I'm almost finished with this report, honey. Give me twenty minutes…thirty minutes."

"It's fine," I assured her. "Actually, do you mind if I swing by Allison's for a bit? She just sent me a bunch of texts saying she needs to talk to me."

"Uh oh. Is everything okay?"

"I don't know. I mean, I guess. If it was really important, she probably would've called, but I figure I should still go. If you don't mind…?"

"No, no, that's fine. But I need the car for therapy later, so I'm gonna have to drop you off."

"Deal. Thank you!"

"You're welcome, but," she added, just before I could close the door, "don't think this lets you off the hook for movie night!"

"Wouldn't dream of it, Mom."

I closed the door again and left my mom to work in peace, jogging up the stairs to the bedroom. Halfway up, my phone went off with Allison's reply.

"Yeah, sorry! Didn't mean to scare you. Dress cute."

I frowned again. That certainly sent up a red flag. I couldn't think of anything urgent that would require the additional note "dress cute." Still, I sent back a snappy reply saying I always looked cute and turned to getting ready.

Ambiguity didn't give me a lot of options, but a summer of fashion advice from Lydia had essentially cemented my best friend's voice in my head. I let it guide me, pulling out a yellow tank top, high-waisted shorts, black stockings, and a black blazer to dress it up. And then, because I knew Lydia wouldn't be around, I put on yellow Converse to dress it down again.

We arrived at the Argents' house almost half an hour later. I thanked Mom with a quick kiss and a promise to text her as soon as I knew what was up with Allison. Mom was clearly concerned. She'd taken to Allison's polite and shy demeanor the first day I'd brought her by the house. It was one of the reasons she so easily agreed to letting me bail on her.

I knocked on the door, expecting to be greeted by a frantic Allison. Instead, I was suddenly face to face with Mrs. Argent.

"Sadie, you look lovely," she greeted, stepping aside to let her into the house.

"Oh, thank you, Mrs. Argent."

"Is that your mother outside?" She was peering at the minivan, still loitering in the driveway until I was safely inside. "I think I'll go say hello. I haven't gotten the chance to meet too many people in Beacon Hills, and it's so important to know about where your friends come from."

"Oh, um…okay. Well, I'm sure she'd be happy to meet you."

"Lovely. Well, Allison's up in her room. You two have fun."

Mrs. Argent smiled sharply before stepping out onto the porch. I watched as she walked up to the minivan, waving and talking to my mother through the open window. There wasn't anything weird about parents meeting each other, but I couldn't shake the anxious feeling in my chest. Maybe all parents were just weird.

I walked myself up the stairs and down the hall to Allison's room. I only had to knock once before the door was wrenched open from the inside.

"Oh thank God," Allison sighed in relief, snatching my wrist and dragging me into the room.

"Allison, what's going—wow."

The room was a certified disaster zone. Most of the boxes were gone now, their contents emptied and scattered around the room. Allison's entire closet had been regurgitated onto her bed, and she was sorting through the debris at random.

"I uh, I need your help," Allison said hesitantly. "With an outfit."

"For what?"

"…Scott."

The red flag I had raised earlier came swishing down, and I sagged on the spot.

"Allison, I get that you really, really like this kid, but if you emergency texted me just to talk about Scott again, I swear to God—"

"I know! I know, I'm seriously so sorry, but I promise, it's not just because I want to talk about him. I need a favor. I just need help with the outfit first."

Sensing that the danger hadn't quite passed, I folded my arms over my chest. "What's the favor?"

"I'll tell you in a sec. Could you just—"

"Allison."

Allison chewed on her lip and deflated, tossing the scarf she was holding back on top of the pile. Without it, she automatically began wringing her hands—another bad sign.

"Okay, well, Scott asked me to go out with him today."

"I know, Allison. You told me. About four times."

"Right, but—but when I went to go tell my parents—I mean, you saw how weird my dad was about the game. They've both been like weirdly protective ever since, and I don't know what it is, because they let me go to your party with him the first week of school, and they didn't even care that I didn't invite Scott inside, but now that Dad's met him he's being kind of controlling, and my mom's been on my back about the curfew and everything, and I didn't want them to say no, and I totally thought they were gonna say no—"

"Allison!" I shouted, cutting off her increasingly rapid rambling. "What did you do?"

"I might have told them you were coming with us…"

Allison screwed up her face in despair, prepared for the fight before I could even pull my face into a scowl. I sighed, walked over to Allison's bed, and fell face first into the mountain of clothes.

"Allisooon," I groaned into the fabric.

"I'm sorry!" The bed dipped as Allison knelt next to me on the mattress, rolling my body over onto my back. "I know, I'm sorry, but I panicked and I know my parents really like you, so I thought if I told them you'd be there then they'd let me go."

"Then just tell them I went and let me go home."

"I can't! They're gonna know I'm lying."

"Allison," I said irritably. "You know how I feel about being a third wheel."

"I know," said Allison, nodding dutifully, "which is why I called Scott, and I explained what happened, and told him to bring Stiles."

"Yeah, cause that solves everything…"

"Sadie, please? I'm begging you. It's just one afternoon, and I promise I will make it up to you. I'll pay for everything we do. Please?"

I huffed, trying to remain firm, but Allison was holding my hand and fixing me with a pleading pair of puppy dog eyes. Clearly, she'd already been spending too much time with Scott.

"Fine," I grumbled, "but you owe me literally so much for—"

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Allison tackled me with a hug, knocking the wind out of my lungs. "You're the best, and I owe you."

"Big time."

I was glaring at the ceiling, but unable to contain a laugh. My laugh made Allison laugh, and soon the two of us were both giggling a gasping for breath in a pile of Allison's clothes. We only stopped when Allison's phone went off somewhere on the floor, and she leapt to attention to find it.

"Oh my God, they're already on their way, and I'm not even dressed. What am I—"

"Here." I plucked a green dress out of the mound and passed it off with a pair of leggings. "I'll find you accessories, just go change."

"You're the best," she sighed again, hugging the clothes to her chest.

"Owe me," I reminded her in a sing-song voice.

Allison darted out into the hall to get ready in the bathroom, but was back a moment later, popping her head through the door with a mischievous smile.

"Unless you want to say I did you a favor and this is a double date…?"

"Don't. Push it."

"Right. Running."

Fifteen minutes later, we were standing at the end of Allison's driveway, waiting for the boys to pick us up. Now that she was dressed and out of the house, Allison seemed to have calmed down quite a bit. She just smiled and rocked back and forth on her feet, scanning both ends of the street so she'd be ready when the car appeared. I, on the other hand, was becoming inexplicably nervous. There was something gnawing at the back of my mind that wouldn't let me rest.

"Allison?" I asked abruptly. "You didn't…tell Scott that joke about this being a double date, right?"

"No!" Her head whipped around in surprise. "God, no! Of course not. Sadie, I'm—I'm just teasing you. Honestly, I'll try to stop making such a big deal out of it."

"Promise?" I asked meekly, and Allison smiled.

"Promise."

She reached for my hand to give it a gentle squeeze, just as a car rounded the corner and gave a short blast on the horn.

Driving toward them was Stiles's Jeep. While it wasn't in the best condition, it was obvious that he took care of it. The black hood and doors were clean and free of scratches, and the faded blue on the rest of the car was shining. All the same, I rolled my eyes as the car rolled to a stop in front of us, Stiles and Scott waving from inside.

"Great," I quipped. "The Stalkermobile."

Stiles's smile vanished and he reached over Scott to brandish a finger at my smug face. "Hey, respect the Jeep, okay? I don't have to drive you anywhere!"

"Actually, Stiles, you kind of do," Scott chuckled.

He slipped out of the car, greeting Allison with his customary goo-goo eyes and stealing a kiss. He seamlessly helped her climb over the front seat and into the back of the car, but when he turned back and offered his hand to me, I eyed him doubtfully.

"Doesn't the seat fold forward?"

"Uh…not right now…"

"Lever's broken," Stiles offered helpfully. "Waiting for a new part."

"The back's a lot more spacious than it looks," Scott assured me with a smile. "Or—or if you want, I can climb in the back, and you can sit up front?"

"No," Stiles and I said at the same time. I pulled a face at him and continued, "No, it's fine. Thanks, Scott."

I took his hand and climbed up into the Jeep. It was a bit of a contortionist act to get into the back; I was desperate not to get stuck halfway over the seat, and ended up tumbling into Allison in my haste. I also managed to hit my head on the wall, and groaned as I twisted myself into an upright position. The backseat was cramped, and I had to prop my knees up on the back of the driver's seat.

"I have way too much leg for this," I complained. "Next time, we take the minivan."

"Oh, sure," Stiles said with a derisive laugh. "So it's cool that you drive your mom's minivan, but you get to diss the car that I actually own?"

"Exactly. Glad you could keep up."

"Okay, kids, that's enough," Allison interrupted with a laugh. She clearly wasn't having any trouble navigating the narrow space, wrapping her arms around Scott's shoulders from behind. "So, where are we going?"

"Uh…you'll see," he offered, giving her a shy smile. "Stiles?"

"Right!" Stiles kicked the Jeep back into motion, pulling onto the road. "Yeah, my cue, sorry."

Scott's plan hadn't been all that elaborate. The mysterious, top-secret location ended up being a retro diner a couple towns over. It was a cute place; exactly the kind to end up on a Google search result of "first date locations," which I was willing to bet was how we'd ended up there in the first place.

The moment the car stopped, I was half over the front seat, batting at Scott's shoulder in an attempt to get out. He laughed but obliged, and I poured myself out of the car onto aching legs. I actually had to hold onto the side of the Jeep for balance as Scott helped Allison gracefully step down to the pavement.

"That sucked," I groaned, wincing as I tested my weight on one leg. "It's like everything from the knees down is asleep."

"Don't be such a baby," Stiles shot, locking the car behind him.

I replied with the most mature, dignified response she could think of: "Don't be such a baby!"

I stuck my tongue out at him, just to really drive the point home, and Stiles shook his head with a grin.

"You gonna be able to walk? Or are you so crippled that I have to roll you in?"

"Shut up, Stilinski."

"Hey, I'm just saying, if you're convincingly disabled I might be able to move into a handicapped spot."

We filed into the diner, Scott running ahead so he could hold the door open. When we ordered our food, he insisted on paying for both Allison and himself. He even offered to pay for me when he found out Allison had promised to pay for my meal, but I had to put my foot down. Scott and I both had our own jobs and our own money. He could save his chivalry for Allison.

We moved down the counter after ordering, waiting for the food, and Allison grabbed Scott's hand.

"Um, Scott and I will go find a table. Do you guys mind—"

"Scram, you two," I agreed, waving them off with my change purse. "Go get your date on."

Allison and Scott didn't need to be told twice. They immediately took off to the other side of the diner, sliding into a booth along the windows where they could talk together in low voices.

"Kids, today, huh?" Stiles said, shaking his head at their antics. "No respect."

I snorted, rearranging the small bills in my wallet so they were all in increasing order. Then I fiddled with the clasp for a few seconds longer than was strictly necessary.

"Hey," I added, in a voice way more tentative than I'd been going for, "you know I was totally kidding about the Jeep, right?"

"Hm? Oh, no, don't worry about it. I knew that. Well—at least, I was pretty sure I knew, but thanks for checking in anyway. No feelings wounded."

"Good, yeah. Honestly, I think the Jeep's pretty kickass."

"Yes!" Stiles beamed, glancing out the store window at his pride and joy. "Thank you! Yeah, I mean, I know he's kinda crap, but an awesome crap."

"Yeah, just not that awesome for groups of three plus."

"Okay, I'll give you that. Next time, you can drive."

I laughed, leaning back against the counter. "I want to say thank you? But also, I'd prefer not to chaperone Allison and Scott's dates from here on out."

"No!" Stiles amended, eyes wide. "Right. That is something I also definitely do not want."

"I mean, I love Allison, but sometimes I feel like all we're ever talking about is Scott."

"I want to say sorry?" Stiles said, mimicking my voice. "But also, I'm happy it's not just me."

Our food came out a couple minutes later, and we thanked the woman behind the counter. I stifled a laugh when I saw Stiles's tray, filled to the brim with more junk food than I'd probably be able to eat in a day.

"Hey," he said defensively, "I'm a growing teenage boy."

"Did I say anything?"

"Yes, okay? You said it with your eyes. Walk."

He tried to pick up both his tray and Scott's, which proved to be difficult. Between the burger and fries and wings and soda and milkshake, Stiles's tray was hard enough to balance on his own. I watched him struggle for a few more seconds before taking pity on him.

"Oh my God, just give it to me."

I picked up my own tray in my left hand, balanced Allison's on my forearm above it, and snatched Scott's from the counter with my right hand. Stiles looked on in awe as I easily walked away.

"You're uh—you're really good at that," he offered, tripping after me with his own food.

"Eh, practice from fooling around with my mom. She used to be a waitress."

We stopped to pick up straws and napkins, but paused before walking to the table. Allison and Scott were still wrapped up in each other, now holding hands on top of the table. It was revoltingly adorable.

"Should we, uh…let 'em be?" Stiles asked tentatively.

"Nope," I replied brightly.

"Uh…no?"

"Nope! We could've done anything with our Saturday. I was supposed to have a pajama day and hang out with my mom. But instead, we're here, because Allison and Scott needed training wheels for their first date. And you know what good training wheels do, Stiles?"

He stammered, unprepared for the metaphor. "They uh—help the big wheels learn to…balance on their own…?"

"They stayed screwed to the bike."

I glided over to the booth, dropping Scott's tray onto the table with a manic smile and watching as he and Allison rocketed apart. I distributed the rest of the food and took my rightful place next to Allison in the booth.

"Hey, guys! Lunch is served. We have one meal for Scott, one meal for Allison, one meal for me, and a small grocery store for Stiles."

"Ha ha," Stiles laughed sarcastically as he slid into the seat across from me.

"God, Sadie," Allison sighed, one hand on her heaving chest. "You um…scared us…"

"Just a reminder that we're here," I said with a wink. "So, hands above the table at all times, no making out, and try to keep it PG. As you were."

Allison elbowed me in the ribs, hard, but it was worth it to watch Scott's face turn tomato red.

Credit where credit is due: Allison and Scott did their best. For the first hour or so, it really did feel like a group outing. Stiles and Scott kept up a steady stream of questions, asking Allison and I about our lives in San Francisco and Menlo Park respectively, and what we liked most about Beacon Hills. The four of us talked about music, movies, and television, all the clubs we'd ever been in and everything we'd ever wanted to try. Occasionally Scott and Allison would drift off into their own little world, and Stiles or I would jolt them back with a particularly loud comment or the threat of an embarrassing story. But we were only delaying the inevitable.

The food dwindled, and Allison and Scott's hand gravitated to each other like magnets. I saw Stiles roll his eyes, but he finally decided to leave them at peace.

"So what were you supposed to do?" he asked, turning back to me.

"Hm?" I asked through a mouth full of fries.

"You said you were having a mother-daughter bonding day. What did you have on the docket?"

"Oh, just a girls' night in. We try and put some time aside to do it every month. We order pizza, she makes cookie dough from scratch, I show her whatever show I've been watching lately, or we compromise and watch movies. It's really nothing special."

"Are you kidding me?" he asked, smirking. "That literally sounds like heaven."

I laughed, and took a sip from my soda, chewing on the straw when I couldn't think of what to say. I wasn't entirely sure whether or not he was joking. His amber eyes seemed earned enough, but I knew Stiles was almost as sarcastic as I was.

"You sound like you're pretty close," he continued, as if he could sense my internal conflict.

I smiled, glad to have another direct question to answer.

"Yeah, we are. She works from home, so we've always spent a lot of time together. Well…a little less since we moved to Beacon Hills. I've been hanging out with Lydia, she's been with Natalie, but…I'm trying to fix that. I almost feel like it's my job, since…since the move's been so hard…"

I stopped talking abruptly, my hands reaching for my dog tags the way they always did when the conversation edged near the topic of my father. I could feel Stiles watching me, and I braced myself for the question, the same one everyone asked, the same one I'd been answering for more nearly four months…

"That's cool," he said, chomping down on his last chicken nugget.

I looked up in surprise, and was met with a pair of carefully disinterested eyes. He knew, either instinctually or because someone had told him. Either way, he sidestepped the subject with a grace I never would have expected from someone so spastic.

"I'm the same way with my dad," Stiles continued. "We look out for each other, you know? He keeps me from getting arrested, and I make sure he's eating right, staying away from fries and burgers and greasy stuff like that."

"He's your dad," I pointed out with a smirk. "Isn't he supposed to be the one telling you to curb the junk food?"

"That's what he says. But, come on, look at me! I'm in my prime! I can tear into a burger and live another day. Dad's doctors keep warning him about his cholesterol and blood pressure and stuff. Of course, he's usually working down at the station, so it's kind of up to me to make sure he eats right."

"Ha, I'm sure he loves that."

"Yeah," he said dryly, "keeps telling me I'm ruining his life. Real grateful."

"Well, I think it's sweet you feel responsible for him."

The moment it left my mouth, I worried the compliment had been too heavy handed. Stiles shrugged and shoved two wings in his mouth at the same time, two red splotches growing on his cheeks.

"Wha' were ya gon' watch?" he asked through a mouthful of buffalo sauce. "Wi' yer mom?"

"I don't know," I admitted with a shrug. "We never got around to deciding. She said she wanted to watch a classic, but that's—to her, a classic is West Side Story. To me, that's like—"

"The original Texas Chainsaw Massacre?" he finished with a playful glint in his eye.

"Not necessarily," I rebutted with a smirk. "I like old comedies—National Lampoon, Monty Python. And then there's your old school monster movies, even if they're kind of cheesy and simplistic. You know, Wolf Man, Dracula, Frankenstein—"

"Hold up! Woah, hold on!" Stiles waved his hands in front of him. "Did you seriously just—you did not just say the Wolf Man is a simplistic movie."

"Stiles, you know what I mean. It's an older movie, so compared to today's standards—"

"—it still holds up! By today's standards, it's still a crazy good film! I'm not gonna hear any slander against Lon Chaney Jr. Not in this house. No."

"I didn't say it was bad, just simple! When you compare it to modern movies with a meta-take, like American Werewolf in London—"

"Oh, get out of here! No! No! You did not just sat that!"

It was my party all over again. Stiles and I sank into a bitter debate about established versus self-aware horror films and which ones were, completely and objectively, better than the rest. More than once, I raised my voice a little too loud, or Stiles would slam his fist on the table with a little too much force, drawing stares from the staff and a few lingering patrons. It didn't deter us. In fact, nothing was able to interrupt our conversation until Allison's phone started blaring her ringtone from inside her jacket pocket.

"It's my mom," she groaned, checking the caller ID. "Sorry, I have to take this."

"Yeah, no, that's fine," Scott assured her.

I stood up to let her out of the booth, wishing her good luck as she rushed out the door to deal with her mother in private. At the same time, there was a loud gurgle from under the table, and Stiles grabbed his stomach.

"Yeah, that second order of chili fries was a bad idea. I'll be right back."

He sprang up and speed-walked to the opposite end of the diner, racing for the bathroom and leaving Scott and I alone. I realized too late that this had never happened before: Scott and I alone without Stiles or Allison to mediate. I sank back into my seat, ready to sit in awkward silence until the others returned, but Scott took me by surprise.

"Hey, Sadie?" he asked, wearing a small, puppy dog smile. "I just wanted to say, thank you for coming out with us today. I'm sorry you had to cancel your plans."

"Oh, don't worry about it," I replied sincerely. "Nothing that can't be rescheduled. Glad I could help, I guess."

"Are you having a nice time?" he prodded hopefully, and he was so obviously nervous that it made me smile.

"Yeah, I am. Thanks for bringing the forth wheel."

I jerked my head toward the bathroom, and Scott's smile widened. "Anytime."

"What about you?" I asked. "Are you having a good time with Allison?"

He didn't answer right away. His eyes darted out to the parking lot, then the booth upholstery, then hesitantly back to me. "I feel like I'm definitely not supposed to talk about that. I mean, you're Allison's friend."

"If this is gonna work, Scott, we're gonna have to be friends too. Didn't you ever listen to the Spice Girls?"

I'd only been teasing him, but quickly realized that the joke had not landed. Scott stared at me in confusion, so long that I felt like I had no other choice but to explain.

"Um…they're a band? They've got that song that's like, uh…if you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my friends…"

Scott was still staring at me. "Should I listen to it for Allison?"

"No! No, sorry, I just—I was joking. Ignore me."

I laughed awkwardly, deciding it would probably be safer to stare at my empty tray for the rest of the afternoon. Allison was gonna kill me. But then Scott's head rocketed up from where he'd been staring at the table.

"Oh!" he said in excitement, and then sang, "I tell you what I want, what I really, really want. So tell me what you want, what you really, really want. I wanna, wanna, wanna, zigga zig ah!"

I wish I could say that I got to appreciate the performance, but about two seconds after Scott opened his mouth I had burst into uncontrollable laughter, to the point that I was already wiping tears from my eyes. He watched me with a sheepish smile, waiting for me to calm down before he continued.

"So, you mean, if I want to date Allison, I need to be friends with you and Lydia?"

"I think it would help," I said, still giggling. "Well, with me, anyway. Lydia might take some time."

"Right. Well, then…" He chewed on his bottom lip, his eyes drifting out the window to watch Allison again, deliberating. "I can't believe she even wants to go out with me. I like her a lot. Ever since you guys walked into the school, it's like I can't get her out of my head. Like, I really, really like her."

"Hm, I see. The breathless, dizzy kind of like where she's all you can think about, you dream about her, and kind of forget everything else when you're around her."

"Yeah," he said with a small smile, full of wonder. "How'd you know?"

"You're pretty obvious about it," I informed him with a shrug. "Plus, you seem the type. And not to break the girl code or anything, but between you and me, Allison really likes you too."

"W-what kind of like?"

"You know. The kind where she talks about you incessantly, and gets all blushy, and her heart beats faster when she's around you. But I guess you already knew that."

"What?" Scott blanched. "Why—why would I know that?"

"…because she's not exactly subtle either? The only way you could miss the way she looks at you is if you were legally blind."

"Oh! Yeah!" His face flooded with relief, and he chuckled nervously. "I—I thought you meant that—that I could like hear her heartbeat or something, and I was like 'whaaat?' Ha, I got…confused…"

I narrowed my eyes at him. Scott was definitely weird. I trusted he was telling the truth about Allison, but that seemed to be where his honesty stopped. Everything else I'd ever asked him got me either a skittish excuse or a bald-faced lie. I still had a lot of questions, and since we were alone…

"Can I ask you something?"

Scott looked up from his empty plate. "Uh, yeah. Go for it."

"Are we ever gonna get an explanation about what happened at the party?"

"Oh…" His face fell. "Sadie, I am so sorry—"

"Yeah, Scott, I know you're sorry," I said, waving him off. "And I believe you, I really do. And I know that Allison has already forgiven you and she's ready to move on, I just—I want to know what was so terrible that you ran out sweating and groaning, left all your friends behind, and then didn't talk to anyone for two days. At least for Allison's sake."

"I promise, I—I had a really good reason," he said quietly, looking up at me through his eyelashes with his best set of puppy dog eyes. "Can you just trust me?"

"I don't know, Scott. Can I?"

We stared at each other in silence for what felt like an eternity. Part of me wanted to give in, to respect his privacy and tell him to forget about the party, but the part that won out was my protective stubbornness. I could still see that picture of Allison, sitting on her bed and giving me a thumbs up even though she'd clearly just been bawling her eyes out. Allison, who had spent all weekend in agony, wondering what she'd done wrong. Scott could keep his secrets, but if he was gonna pull a stunt like that again, I had to protect my friend.

"Yes," Scott said finally. "You can trust me."

I sighed. "Well, you gonna have to give me something. Like…Derek Hale."

Instantly, I saw the change in his demeanor. Scott's whole body tensed up, his jaw clenching and his hands balling into fists.

"What about Derek?"

"I know you said that he's not your friend—"

"He's not my friend," he emphasized, nearly growling.

"I know that," I assured him, more than a little freaked out by the sudden ferocity. I could see why Allison had been so worried. "But obviously you know him more than you want to admit. Why else would he drive Allison home? How else would he know about the pen you gave her on the first day of school?"

"He said what?"

Scott's posture changed again. He sat up rod straight, totally alert and, I realized, surprised. I frowned at him, just as taken aback.

"Did…did you and Allison talk about what happened after you left the party? Like, at all?"

"No," he answered immediately. "I know Derek drove her home, but she said they didn't talk much. Why? What he say to you?"

His voice was urgent and demanding, which almost scared me. But it didn't scare me any more than my concerns about Derek Hale.

"Well, he showed up saying he was a friend of yours, then described you a little. He said he'd helped you with lacrosse, your asthma gets bad this time of year, that you never stopped talking about Allison, which you don't, so obviously you do know this guy. No more lying."

Scott stared at his hands for a moment, which were clenching his tray so hard that his knuckles were white. I wouldn't have been surprised if he's left dents in the plastic.

"Derek and I aren't friends," he said slowly, choosing his words carefully. "I met him earlier in the year. He told me—I definitely got a few tricks from him for lacrosse, but we only talked a couple times. Mostly him talking to me."

"He said you wouldn't want to admit how close you were," I told him, "that you guys were like brothers or something."

"Yeah, I've heard that before," he sighed, looking legitimately annoyed. "Derek thinks I'm a lot like him. And I think…I think he drove Allison home because he wants me to trust him."

"So…he's not trying to hurt her?"

"No. No, if anything, he thinks I'm gonna hurt her."

That didn't exactly fill me with confidence, but at the moment, I was more worried about something else.

"Okay, so…what does that have to do with me?"

"Nothing," Scott answered, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. "Why?"

"You and Stiles haven't…you didn't mention me at all?"

"No, I promise. Sadie, what's going on?"

Now it was my turn to deliberate. I wasn't sure what kind of answer I'd been hoping for, but his blank confusion seemed like a bad sign. I wasn't sure if I could trust Scott, but on the other hand, maybe I couldn't afford not to.

"Derek showed up to the library during my shift," I revealed at last. "That wouldn't really be weird except for the fact that he doesn't really seem like a library guy. I had to make him a card and everything, and he checked out all the same books Stiles brought back, and…he knew my name…"

If Scott's confusion had seemed concerning, it was nothing compared to the dawning look of horror that was stretched across his face now. His jaw dropped, and he spluttered his way through a bunch of half-asked questions.

"Wha—wh—but—how would he—when?"

"Right after you took out Jackson's shoulder," I said shortly. "Scott, why does Derek care who I am?"

"I—I don't—why? Why wouldn't you tell me about this earlier?!"

"Excuse me?" I laughed derisively. "I shouldn't have to tell you anything. Right up until today, you were denying you even knew Derek!"

Scott huffed, looking frantically around the diner. I wasn't sure what he was looking for, but when he didn't find it, he banged his fists down on the table, making everything on it shake. I jumped back at his outburst, and he quickly reigned himself in.

"Sorry," he sighed, his head sinking into his hands. "Sorry, I'm just…"

"Scott," I said hesitantly. "Is Derek…? Is he dangerous?"

Slowly, Scott lifted his head to meet my eye. It looked like he was trying to come up with something to say, but couldn't decide on the right words. I figured that was answer enough.

"Wow!" Stiles's voice interrupted us as he returned from the bathroom, leaning casually on the back of the booth. "Okay, so eyes a little bigger than my stomach. Worth it! But remind me not to do that again."

Scott and I both looked at him, then nervously glanced at each other. It took Stiles a moment to pick up on the tension.

"What?" he asked, looking between our equally worried faces. "What's going on, guys?"

Scott opened his mouth to answer, but Allison returned first.

"Oh, God, I am so sorry about that," she laughed, hurrying back to the table. "My mom is, like, literally insane sometimes."

All three of us snapped to look at her, Scott the first one to recover.

"Oh, that's uh—don't worry about it. We were just talking about…dessert…"

Allison beamed at him, completely oblivious to the rest of the natural world, as usual. I could feel Stiles looking at me while I looked at Scott, completely in disbelief. Was he seriously not going to tell her?

"Unfortunately, I don't know if I can stay for dessert," Allison sighed. "According to my mom, we've been out forever already, and she and my dad are demanding that I come home. I'm so, so sorry guys."

"Oh, that's fine," Scott assured her. "Are you—uh—ready to go?"

"Yeah, if that's okay."

Scott hurriedly began cleaning up the table, and Stiles followed his lead. Allison reached across me to grab her purse, and I just sat there, still staring at Scott.

"Actually," I announced, "Scott just—"

"Promised you ice cream!" He practically shouted the excuse over me, eyes wide. "Yes, yeah, I—I know I promised you ice cream, which—which I will get for you right now. Why don't you guys go ahead? We'll meet you at the car."

Allison glanced between us suspiciously, but Stiles clearly knew that something was wrong. He ran with Scott's excuse, spinning the Jeep keys around his finger and wrapping an arm around Allison's shoulder so he could forcibly lead her out of the diner. I rounded on Scott as soon as they were out the door.

"You're seriously still gonna lie about this?"

"Sadie, I know it—"

"He knows where she lives, Scott! He knows where I work!"

"I know! I know, just…" He sighed, fixing me with a piercing look. "Look, I promise I'll explain in the car. Just one chance. That's all I'm asking."

I glared at him for all I was worth. As far as I was concerned, I'd already given Scott one chance by letting go of his stunt at the party. Even if you didn't count all the other weird stuff, like his erratic behavior or hospitalizing Jackson, this would be strike two. I briefly considering gouging the puppy dog eyes right out of his head, but they did their job. I deflated, picking up my tray and glowering at him.

"One chance. And I want chocolate ice cream."

It was quiet on the way back, Stiles doing his best to sweep the tension under the rug by playing some music off his phone, which was barely audible over the Jeep's engine. Allison had relaxed against the back of Scott's seat, one hand playing with his hair while the other held his hand over his shoulder, their fingers loosely intertwined. I kept to myself, eating my ice cream in silence and staring exclusively at the road, except for the few times I caught Stiles's eyes in the mirror.

When we pulled up to Allison's house, Scott jumped out first. Allison went to get up, but paused to look back at me. "Are you coming?"

"Oh, um…actually, I kinda want to get back to my mom. Stiles, would you be able to drive me home?"

"Yup, sure thing," he agreed, glancing at me in the mirror again.

Allison twisted back to hug me in the cramped space of the Jeep's backseat.

"Thank you so, so much for coming," she breathed, squeezing me tightly. "I promise I will make it up to you."

"I know you will," I said, mustering a grin.

She climbed gracefully out of the car, thanked Stiles for driving, and waved goodbye one last time. Then Scott took her hand again so he could hold it while he walked her to the front door.

"What happened back there?" Stiles asked me, even as we both watched our friends giggling on the front porch.

"Honestly? You're gonna have to tell me."

Scott and Allison exchanged a few more words, positively beaming at each other. Then, after a not-so-quick kiss, Allison slipped through her front door. Scott was visibly walking on air when he got back to the Jeep.

"She said yes!" he informed us breathlessly.

"To what?" I asked.

"Another shot at a date! One on one, this time. We're going out later this week."

"Well, that's great," Stiles cheered in a less than enthusiastic voice. "Dude, that's super. Fantastic. Now can someone tell me what the hell happened while I was in the bathroom?"

Scott sobered immediately, glancing at me in the back. I waved him off moodily, stretching my legs out so I could take full advantage of the extra room.

"Don't look at me. You've made it very clear I'm not allowed to speak."

"You're allowed to speak," he sighed. "With Allison, I just want to—"

"—to keep lying? To not say anything? Which is how you screwed up the first time?"

Scott deflated and banged his head on the window. He waited until Stiles had pulled onto the road, until the Argent house was out of sight, before turning in his seat so he could face Stiles and I more directly.

"Derek talked to Sadie."

"What?" Stiles went rigid in his seat and almost veered off the street. He turned from the road, to Scott, to me, back to Scott, and everything in between. "What do you mean he talked to her? He talked to you? About what? When?"

"The day you brought the books back to the library," I explained. "He came in right after you left and checked out everything you returned. And before you even try to say I should've said something, try to remember just how much you guys are not telling me."

Stiles promptly closed his mouth. Clearly, he'd been preparing to do just that.

"Sadie," Scott addressed me gravely. "What did he say to you while he was there?"

"I don't know! Just that he wanted to check out the books, so I set him up with an account. I had to take his license, which is from New York for whatever reason. I scanned everything out to him, thanked him for driving Allison home, pretty much told him that I knew he wasn't friends with you guys—"

"You did what?!" Stiles demanded.

"What? I wanted to see how he'd react, or if I'd get a better explanation out of him than the two of you."

"And how did he react?" Scott asked. "When you said he wasn't my friend?"

"I don't know, normal? That's when he told me you probably wouldn't want to admit how well you knew him, and that you were kind of like brothers or something. Then he took the books, said, 'I'm sure I'll see you around, Sadie,' and left."

"Creep," Stiles growled, staring at the road.

"Okay, but why would he come to you?" Scott asked me again, and I almost smacked him.

"You're seriously asking me? As if I have any idea what's going on? No, Scott, you tell me why he knows who I am. Is he dangerous? Is he some kind of criminal? Did you piss him off?"

"No, I—"

Stiles made a high pitched whine of disagreement, and Scott punched him in the shoulder, hard.

"Look," he sighed, turning further in his seat to face me. "Derek isn't going to hurt you."

"Are you sure?" I asked. "Or are you saying that in one of those stupid boy 'I can protect you' ways?"

"No! No, I'm just—kind of? No. You're confusing." Scott shook his head and tried again. "Look, Derek is creepy and super annoying, but I don't think he'd ever hurt you. He thinks that I'm gonna hurt someone."

"Why is he so worried that you're gonna hurt someone?"

Scott and Stiles exchanged another look in front of me, which was infuriating. So I pulled out the big guns.

"Look, if you don't tell me, I'm calling Allison."

"No!" Scott waved his hands hurriedly. "Look, you can't tell Allison about this."

"I am not going to lie for you."

"I don't want you to lie for me. I just want to tell her myself."

"Tell her what?"

Scott sighed, taking one last look at Stiles before he explained.

"Lately, I've…kinda been having some problems. Things like—like not sleeping, or having trouble focusing, or aggression—"

"Aggression?" I repeated warily.

"From his anxiety," Stiles added helpfully. "Aggression and irritability are totally normal side effects of anxiety. Nothing weird about it."

"Exactly!" Scott continued. "I'm—I'm trying to get a handle on it, but—but I feel weird telling people, and I don't want it to change the way Allison sees me, because things are really good right now, but I am totally gonna tell her, and I just want her to hear it from me."

"Hold on," I said, shaking my head. "I still don't understand how this has anything to do with Derek. What is he, a PI? Your anger management counselor or something?"

"Uh…well…"

"That is actually…" Stiles frowned at the steering wheel. "No, you know? That is actually a disturbingly good metaphor."

"Derek thinks he can help me," Scott sighed.

"And you don't want him to?" I asked. "Why not?"

"Why?" Scott asked incredulously. "Because—because he's old and creepy and doesn't respect personal boundaries!"

I sank back against the wall of the Jeep. I couldn't argue with that. Derek trying to be some kind of overbearing mentor fit with everything I'd learned so far. It was still creepy as hell that he was asking around about all of Scott's friends, tailing him to parties, investigating everyone he spoke to, hanging out around teenagers all the time, but at least I could table the idea that he was biding his time to turn me into a skin suit or something…hopefully…

"I'm sure it's nothing," Scott assured me, sensing my discomfort, "but I'll talk to Derek, tell him to back off."

"Woah," Stiles objected, "you can't just go talk to Derek! The guy's a huge freaking we—w—weeeirdo…"

Once again, Stiles glanced at me in the rearview mirror.

"I'm not gonna start anything," said Scott. "I just want to know what he knows about Sadie."

"And Allison," I reminded him. "And Stiles."

"Me?" Stiles choked out. "I haven't seen—why would he—"

"He checked out all the same books as you," I pointed out. "No way was that a coincidence."

"Right. That's just…so comforting…"

The Jeep was already pulling onto the final street. Stiles stopped on the curb in front of the house, and I didn't miss the longing look he cast over it, scanning the driveway for Lydia's car and the windows for a glimpse of strawberry blonde hair.

"Here, give me your phone," Scott offered. I fished it out of my bag and handed it over, letting him take it and start typing. "You haven't seen him since then, right?"

"No…"

"Okay. So I'll tell him to leave you alone, and if you see him, you can just call one of us."

He smiled when he handed the phone back, and I looked down to find that Scott McCall and Stiles Stilinski had been added to my contacts. I bit my lip, looking between the two boys in front of me.

"I should be worried, right?"

Stiles let out another high pitched whine, but Scott resolutely shook his head. "I promise that nothing's gonna happen to you."

"And I can trust you on that?"

"Yes."

Scott smiled bracingly and, stupid as it was, it made me feel a little better. I knew I wasn't going to get any more information, and it hadn't been everything that I wanted to hear, but it was more than I'd known yesterday. So for the moment, I let it go.

"Fine. Let me out of this death trap."

Stiles scoffed in disapproval, but still offered his hand to help me over the seat. Scott opened the door for me and let me hop down to the ground.

"Hey," he said, taking advantage of the pause while I shook out my legs. "Thanks for coming today, Sadie. And for listening."

"You are welcome," I said grudgingly, even though I meant it. "Thanks for the ice cream. Stiles, thank you for not making me a third wheel."

"Hey, same to you," he said with a nod. "Seriously, though, if you need me—you know, like if Derek's there, or—even if you just see him like standing broodily in the distance, you can—you can text me. And you should probably text me before that too, just so I have your number. Both of us. So we know to pick up if it's an emergency or something. Or not, you can just—"

"Later, Stilinski."

"Yes. Later, Bennet."

I walked up the driveway by myself, still mulling over all the new information in my head. It helped the pieces fit together a lot better than they had before. Scott suffering from anxiety was believable, especially with all the changes he'd been dealing with since school started. I didn't love the idea of Allison dating someone with anger issues, but Scott had only ever looked at Allison in pure adoration. If he said he was working on it, I had to take him at his word.

Benefit of the doubt.

"Hey, Sadie!" Stiles called across the lawn, just before I slipped through the front door. He and Scott were both back in the Jeep, waving out through the window. "Have fun with your mom! Wolf Man all the way!"

I gave them a salute, and stayed on the stoop to watch as they disappeared down the street, just the two boys and their trusty Stalkermobile. I shook my head and pushed the front door open. It had been a long day, and I was more than ready to shut my brain off, order some pizza, and watch werewolves run around with my mom.

A/N: Sorry this is a little late! I figured we'd start the new year off with a metric ton of fluff and Sadles development. Thank you all so much for reading and your well wishes. Happy 2022 to you all! Hope it's a howlin' one.

-Brittney