Chapter 15 - A Long Expected Party
"Okay, so they wouldn't tell me what kind of dress she got. Like, I wasn't even allowed to know what color it was, so you have to make sure you try to talk to Sadie so you can get something that matches."
"Uh huh."
"Actually, you don't even have a suit. I don't know if we have time for that. You know what? We definitely don't have time for that. Just get black. That's what she told me to do. Black goes with everything."
"Sure."
"You should still find out what color she's wearing though, so you can get her flowers that match."
"Oh, I wasn't gonna get her flowers."
I immediately looked up from my meal, glaring at my supposedly best friend. We were sitting in the cafeteria, going over our plans for the winter formal later that night. Or really, Scott was being supremely unhelpful and quiet while I went over our plans… Okay, so I was really just going over his plans for him, but I already knew what I was supposed to do. Scott didn't. I'd finally gotten him to agree to take Sadie to the dance, since I was suddenly going with Lydia. After the big reveal that morning, Sadie had obviously agreed to go with him, which of course I definitely wasn't the slightest bit bitter about at all. I may not have been able to been able to make her happy myself, but I would still do everything I could to make sure she got the date she wanted. I got her the guy she actually liked, and there was no way in hell I was gonna let Scott mess everything up.
"Uh, yes you are," I corrected him emphatically. He simply scrunched up his nose in slight confusion.
"Why do I have to get her flowers?"
"Because you're her date, Scott," I growled, stabbing my fork through one of the chicken tenders on my plate. The fork squeaked against the plate, making me wince and reminding me to ease off the force. I tried to take a deep breath as I chomped on the food, closing my eyes for a moment. "Seriously," I began, still chewing. "Have you stopped to think of all of the shit Sadie's done for us? For you? The least you can do is pick her up some flowers. We owe her that much."
"Then why don't you get her flowers?" he pressed. I'd expected more a whine, something that made him sound like the annoying-as-hell child he was acting like, but he sounded more frustrated than anything else. I opened my mouth, ready to remind him that it was his responsibility as her date, and that Sadie wouldn't want flowers from me anyway, but ended up simply shaking my head.
"Just, no. Okay? You're getting her flowers. I—I will even go out and buy them for you if I have to, since you're obviously incapable of doing any of this shit on your own."
"Fine," Scott relented, slumping back in his chair and rolling his eyes slightly. I watched him for a few seconds, waiting for some sort of change—a grin, a question, any sign of interest at all. Instead, he just stared glumly down at his plate, completely disinterested in the conversation. I felt the anger building up in the pit of my stomach, until I finally tossed my fork down onto the table with a clang.
"Dude, can you pretend like you actually care for like two seconds?" I spat. Scott looked up from his plate quickly, eyebrows rising up to hide under his hair.
"About what?" I narrowed my eyes at him, barely managing to keep myself from slamming my hands down on the table.
"About Sadie!" I hissed, glaring at him. "This—This is really important to her, and I'm not gonna let you ruin her night because you're not excited! She deserves to have a good time. So maybe you don't care…"
"Stiles, of course I care about her," Scott cut me off, looking like he was caught somewhere between astonishment and exasperation. "But we're just going as friends. I still wish I was going with Allison, and Sadie doesn't really want to go with me either." My mouth actually dropped open slightly in incredulity, eyes narrowing even further.
"Scott, do you listen to anything I say? Ever?" He shook his head slightly, knowing where the conversation was going, but I kept talking anyway. "I've told you like a hundred times. I know Sadie wants to go with you. She really, really, really wants to go with you. So you can at least give her the chance she deserves, okay?"
"Why are you so hung up on this?" he asked, leaning back in his chair. He seemed genuinely curious, underneath all of the annoyance. "I mean, what makes you think she wants to go with me so badly?"
"Because she told me, okay?!" I burst. Scott's eyes widened fractionally, and I immediately clamped my mouth shut.
Great. There I went again with my big mouth. I was trying to be such a great friend by getting Sadie a shot with the guy she wanted, and I decided to go right ahead and tell him that she liked him. Some friend I was turning out to be.
"What do you mean she told you?" Scott asked, skeptical now that he was over the initial shock.
I chewed on my bottom lip for a few seconds, debating whether or not I should go on. I'd already done enough damage by telling him that Sadie had admitted to liking him. Did I really want to deepen my grave by giving him the details of her whole speech? Then again, now I finally seemed to have his attention. Scott had only been half listening to my instructions all day, but now he actually seemed to care what was going on. Sadie probably wouldn't want me to tell him what she'd said. But I didn't have to tell him everything. I could be vague. And if that's what it took for Scott to give her a chance as more than just a platonic date, make her happy in the long run, I was willing to deal with the consequences.
"Look," I sighed, giving in. "A couple days ago at lunch, Sadie and I were talking about formal and whatever. I was talking about Lydia for a bit, and then she went on this whole spiel about how she liked this guy that liked someone else. And she just kept talking about she just wished the guy'd notice her as more than a friend, and that the girl he was hung up on really wasn't good for him, and then you sat down and she took off." Scott's eyes widened slightly again.
"Stiles…"
"And if that's not you and Allison to a tee then I don't know what is," I continued, waving him off before he could continue. "We probably should have noticed earlier. I mean, she pretty much dies getting attacked by a werewolf, and then she finds out you're one too and suddenly she's all gung ho to help? You guys weren't exactly close enough for it to make sense that she was willing to risk her life to hang out with you. And she spent all that time comforting you and trying to help you get over Allison. And then she happens to free herself up for the formal by setting me up with Lydia? I mean, don't get me wrong, she's awesome for doing it, but then you both suddenly don't have dates. She's always wanted to go with you." I let out a long breath as I finished, only just aware of how fast I'd been speaking. Scott just stared at me quietly for a minute, watching as I stabbed another chicken tender with my fork.
"Why do you have to be such an idiot?" he sighed, shaking his head. My face scrunched up at the accusation. After that big explanation, Scott should have been kicking himself for missing the obvious signs. He should have been jumping at the chance to go to the dance with Sadie, or at least feel sad because he didn't feel like he could like her like that. He was supposed to be angry at himself, shocked at the sudden realization of everything that'd been happening. What he was not supposed to be doing was staring at me with some mixture of frustration, anger and pity.
"I'm not an idiot," I huffed defensively. "You're just oblivious."
I took another large bite out of my chicken, glancing around the lunchroom to make sure there weren't any bystanders who'd overheard us. I didn't need to deal with anyone giving us weird looks for talking about werewolves, and just because I'd had to tell Scott about Sadie's crush on him didn't mean anyone else was allowed to know. Especially Sadie. But that brought up another thought. I sat up a little straighter, turning in my chair to look around the whole room.
"Speaking of Sadie, where the hell is she?" I asked, scanning up and down every table for her chocolaty brown hair. Scott shrugged, pausing mid-bite of potatoes.
"It's Friday," he offered simply. "That's when she sits with Allison and Lydia."
"Yeah, except she's not," I disputed, glancing back to the lunch table where Lydia and Allison were conversing in low voices. Lydia seemed a little worked up, Allison calmly pleading with her about something, but Sadie was nowhere in sight. "Seriously, I mean, she was fine in chem right?"
"Think so," Scott agreed, also looking around the room. He paused for a moment, closing his eyes and concentrating. After a second, he perked up, relaxing a bit as his eyes opened again, the wolfy gold fading away. "Yeah, she's fine. Over there." He waved a hand casually somewhere to my left, and I scrambled to follow his gaze.
Sadie was sitting at a table on the outskirts of the cafeteria, her back slightly toward us and a curtain of hair blocking most of her face. She had one hand placed on the table, marking her place in a book she'd stopped reading. Instead, she was talking to the table's only other occupant, sitting opposite her and a few seats over. She tucked her hair behind one of her ears, revealing the bright smile she had on her face.
"Boyd?" I asked, and it came out more accusatory than confused. "Why the hell is she sitting with Boyd? Why does she know Boyd?"
"Uh, I don't know," Scott answered, clearly just as confused but not nearly as worried. "Maybe she just felt bad cause he was sitting by himself?"
"Of course he was sitting by himself," I replied quickly, much more quickly than I'd intended to. "It's Boyd. He's always sitting by himself. Why decided to sit with him today?"
"Stiles, chill," Scott advised, an exasperated smile growing on his stupid face. "I'm sure everything's fine."
"No, Scott," I argued, turning back to him and leaning forward over the table. "Everything is clearly not fine. If everything was fine, Sadie would be sitting here gushing to you about all the details of your date like a normal excited girl before she goes on a date. Then I wouldn't have to be doing all of the planning for you."
I twisted in my chair again, turning over my shoulder to steal another look at the couple. Sadie's hand had left the book, her spot completely forgotten as she turned all of her attention to the boy in front of her. I narrowed my eyes and forced myself to face forward.
"You know, she's probably just nervous," I reasoned, hardly noticing the anxious rhythm my thumb was tapping out on the table. "Excited nervous, like she's afraid she's gonna scare you off if she gets too excited or something. I mean, that's why I'm not sitting with Lydia."
"Stiles, you're not sitting with Lydia because you're not actually friends with Lydia," Scott corrected with a pointed look. I tilted my head in agreement and was halfway through chewing a mouthful of fries when I paused.
Scott's comment hadn't fazed me at all, which was weird. Usually any reality check that reminded me just how distant I was from Lydia made me really angry, or at the very least annoyed. But for some reason, Scott's statement that I still wasn't friends with Lydia after ten years felt like just that—a simple, true statement. So why didn't I feel bitter about it? In fact, I realized with a slight jolt of surprise, I wasn't even upset that I wasn't sitting with Lydia. And it wasn't because I was afraid of looking like an idiot if I pestered her with questions about the date. I just suddenly noticed that I had almost no desire to go sit with her. She was still the same Lydia Martin—gorgeous, smart and sassy as she'd been the day I realized I had a crush on her—but something just felt off. It made me shift uncomfortably in my seat, knowing something was wrong but not being able to figure out what it was. Scott didn't seem to notice my odd behavior though, since he just kept eating, eyes focused on his food.
I chanced a glance behind me at Lydia and Allison's table. They were still talking quietly, though Lydia seemed more concerned now than annoyed. I followed her line of sight across the room, back to the table where Sadie was sitting with Boyd. Apparently I wasn't the only one concerned about the seating arrangements. She looked content enough, but as my eyes roamed over her back I couldn't help but wonder if I'd done something wrong. Was she mad at me? Or was she just embarrassed to be around Scott? That didn't seem likely, considering we'd all been fine during lunch yesterday. So what was it? I tried to ignore the heavy feeling growing in my stomach. There was no proof yet that this was my fault.
"Stiles," Scott sighed, breaking me out of my thoughts. I ripped my eyes away from Sadie, turning back towards the table and trying to look as innocent as possible. How long had I even been watching her? But Scott simply shook his head slightly, his fork pushing his food around the plate. "Dude, just…don't push this, okay? Sadie hasn't… I mean, I don't think she's been feeling that great lately, so uh… Just leave it." I was almost shocked by the pleading tone in his voice. He sounded so sincere that, if I hadn't been listening to what he was actually saying, I probably would have backed off completely. Instead, that weird feeling in my stomach started to swell, quickly turning into straight up anger.
"No!" I replied firmly. "Scott, do—do you even hear yourself right now?! She's upset, so you want to just ignore her until the problem goes away?!"
"That's not what I meant," Scott defended weakly. I narrowed my eyes.
"If Sadie's really upset then—then she needs us!" I cut him off. "She needs to know that we want to help! That we care enough to notice she's not okay and we want to know what's wrong!"
"Stiles," he begged, still infuriatingly calm, "please don't push her. It's just gonna make things worse."
"Worse?" I repeated angrily. "Letting her know that I want her to be happy is gonna make everything worse?"
"Honestly? Yeah," he answered, shaking his head slightly. "It probably will." I glared at him in silence for a few seconds, my mouth handing open. He just wanted me to ignore her, to pretend like I hadn't noticed anything was off. How was I supposed to do that? Why was I supposed to do that? I didn't want her to think I didn't care if she was unhappy, or that I was too stupid to tell the difference. She was in trouble, dealing with something, and that was one problem I couldn't ignore.
"You know, I don't get it," I laughed bitterly, the anger from my stomach rising up into my chest.
"Get what?" Scott asked. He sounded almost cautious, like he could hear the tension in my voice. Or maybe he could actually smell it, with all his stupid wolf powers.
"Why she likes you," I snapped before I could stop myself. "I mean, Allison, Lydia and Sadie?" I saw his face soften with pity, and rushed on before he could try and make some stupid comment. "And I mean, she knows you. She knows what you are and who you like and all the stuff you do. If anyone was gonna not like you, it should be her."
"Wow, thanks," he muttered, shoulders tensing slightly. I felt my eyes narrow even further, now practically slits.
"Dude, this isn't about you," I spat. "This is about her." Scott looked up again, raising an eyebrow, but I was already so worked up that I barely noticed. "Okay? All the shit she's gone through for us, risking her life and everything, and spending time with us even when she doesn't have to, and still managing to have—to have perfect grades and have a social life and be funny and beautiful and everything! She deserves better!"
"Like what?" he asked. He was almost eerily calm now, something I didn't catch onto. In retrospect, telling him that he wasn't good enough for Sadie probably should have offended him, even if he didn't like her. But instead he just seemed intrigued, sitting up a little straighter and leaning forward on the table to watch as I quickly unraveled.
"Someone who actually likes her, for one thing!" I scoffed, as if it were actually Scott's fault that he liked Allison. "Someone who's gonna pay attention to her and listen to her and help her with her problems instead of just staying away until she works it out herself! Someone who actually understands what she's going through, or at least cares enough to try! Who—Who cares enough to do the same shit for her that she does for us and tries to keep her safe and happy even though there's all this shit happening and—and tries to make her feel like there's not, like she's normal. Who's actually going to put in the effort to give her what she wants even if it's something stupid like—like getting her flowers and a suit that matches her dress and getting her food and driving her places so she doesn't have to! I mean, you can't do that! You don't even have a fucking car!"
"You mean like you have the Jeep?" he offered, voice even as his eyebrows climbed higher.
"Yes!" I exclaimed. A couple people looked in our direction, reminding me to lower my voice. "Yeah, I have the Jeep."
"So, you're saying that she'd be better off with you?"
"Well at least she would get the date she deserves," I replied stubbornly. "She shouldn't have to drive herself to formal, or drive both of you. You're the guy, so it's your job."
"So you'd rather Sadie was going to formal with you instead of me?" he prompted. I opened my mouth to reply, and then quickly choked back my answer.
"Well, ye—I mean, you know, it's—no, I mean if she thinks you'll—if you make her happy then fine. I'm just saying that if you aren't going to step up your game, then she deserves to go with someone else who might treat her better."
"Oh, right," Scott agreed, nodding emphatically and leaning forward on the table. "So, like who?"
"Wha…? I don't—I don't know," I stammered with a shrug, resisting the urge to look over my shoulder again to check that Sadie was still sitting in the same place.
"What about Isaac?" Scott suggested, and my face immediately scrunched up. "She was going to ask him this morning, right?"
"Lahey?" I asked, practically snarling. "Are you joking? The guy's bike is twice as shitty as yours, and if you don't have a suit, he definitely doesn't. Besides, he's too quiet and awkward. They can't know each other that well. He'd have no idea what to talk about. It'd be a wreck."
"Jackson?"
"One, she fucking hates him," I dismissed, "because she actually has a brain. Two, she'd never do that to Lydia. Jackson'd treat her like shit anyway. Any of the lacrosse boys would, like—like she was a piece of meat or something."
"Danny wouldn't," Scott argued, and I rolled my eyes.
"Yeah, because Sadie doesn't have a dick. But he's just one of her friends, like her token back up for not getting an actual date like she deserves."
"Mhm," Scott hummed, nodding again. A smile was slowly growing over his face, something I was just beginning to notice as he turned back to me. "So, just to clarify, what you're saying is that Sadie deserves an awesome, real date to formal with a guy who knows her, likes her, and is going to treat her right, and you don't trust anyone to do that but yourself."
"Yes!" And then my brain finally caught up the rest of my body, which had been on an uncontrolled, emotional tirade up to that point. My mouth fell open as I replayed my own answer, and I furiously tried to backpedal. "Wait, wait, wait. No. I meant no. I mean, yes I think Sadie deserves those things, obviously, but I—I mean, I'm sure someone could do that for her, ideally."
"And you'd be okay with it if she had a date with a guy that did all that stuff for her?" he asked.
"No, I wouldn't be okay with it," a voice said firmly in my brain. I squeezed my eyes shut, shaking my head back and forth.
"Yeah, of course," I answered, but even I could tell that my voice was higher than it usually was. "I mean, I can't think of anyone right now…"
"So as of this moment, the person who's closest to being perfect for her is you?" Scott pushed. I opened and closed my mouth once or twice before wincing and running a hand over my hair.
"Scott, can you just—can you not? I'm going to the dance with Lydia."
"Yeah, I know," he conceded lightly. "I'm just saying, hypothetically speaking, you're the best person for her?"
"Oh my God, can you stop?" I begged, running my hands over my face and pressing my fingers against my eyes.
"What kind of flowers are you getting Lydia?" Scott asked abruptly. My hands fell away from my face as I looked up, completely thrown by the change of subject.
"What?"
"What kind of flowers are you getting Lydia?" he repeated without explanation. I blinked, trying to think back to my own date, which I hadn't discussed all that much that day.
"Um…uh, I don't know. Not sure yet."
"You're not sure?" Scott echoed. "So you know exactly what kind of flowers I should buy for Sadie, but you haven't stopped to think about the flowers you're getting for your date? I thought that was your job?"
"I…! No! I mean, it is! I just—I've been helping you because you—you obviously don't know how to make these decisions and I do, so I can make them later for myself so I'm helping you first."
"First? Stiles, you haven't stopped talking about my 'date' with Sadie all day. When were you going to start planning yours?"
"Wha…? I…I don't know, I mean…maybe—maybe after…" I spluttered for a few seconds before the sentence finally fell away.
He was right. Here I was preaching to Scott about all the things he should be doing to make sure he was the perfect date, and I had barely spared a thought for Lydia all day. I was supposed to be going on a date with a girl I'd had a crush on since I was eight years old, and I hadn't even decided what kind of flowers I was getting her yet. Instead, I'd been thinking about what would be best for Sadie. Something meaningful, not cheesy, but wouldn't clash with the unknown color of her dress. I'd been instructing Scott for hours, and the only thing I'd been focused on was what to do to give Sadie the perfect date, everything from a winter formal mix CD for her car to ideal after party suggestions—assuming our werewolf troubles held off long enough that we got to celebrate with after party suggestions. I tried to think for a moment where I would take Lydia if she agreed to stay around after the dance. But my mind just came up blank. Eight years having a crush on Lydia fucking Martin and I didn't even know where I wanted to take her on a date. But Sadie? I'd given Scott at least twenty ideas. Go bowling, go to the movies, go to the elementary school and play on the playground, and do it all without either of you changing out of your formal clothes. They were cute ideas, but I couldn't see myself doing any of them with Lydia. They were perfect for Sadie, and I realized with a sudden conviction that I didn't want her to do any of those things with Scott. Every single suggestion had come from an image that had already existed in my head—me holding Sadie's shoes because she'd decided she couldn't bowl in heels, or Sadie in a dress with a huge skirt that covered three theater seats and I had to lay over my lap to sit next to her, or Sadie's skirt swaying back and forth with that huge, blinding smile of hers on her face as I pushed her on the swing. Those thoughts had popped up instantly, and I didn't want to picture her doing them with Scott. I couldn't even picture myself doing them with Lydia. Those were my thoughts, things I wanted to do with Sadie for myself. And that thought made my whole body freeze up, because if I wanted to do all those things with Sadie, and I couldn't handle the thought of her doing them with anyone else…
"Stiles? You okay?" Scott was prodding, leaning his forearms on the table. But I barely heard him. His voice was like background noise and I just stared down at the table, my eyes going wide and my jaw dropping.
"Oh my God. Oh my God."
"Dude, what is it?"
"Shit. Oh my God. Fuck!"
"Stiles! What's wrong?!"
"I…I like Sadie…"
"What?"
"I like Sadie," I repeated, still staring at the same small spot on the table. "I—I really, really like Sadie. I totally like her." I vaguely registered Scott's face breaking into a wide smile, and he might have said something along the lines of "finally," but the most part I was too shocked to acknowledge him. "I'm not supposed to, though!" I rambled on.
"Dude, who cares?" Scott cut me off, still grinning.
"She does!" I piped. "Or I mean, probably. I mean, I'm supposed to like Lydia and now I like her best friend and I'm friends with Sadie so I said I was never gonna do this because I don't want to fuck up our friendship but then I went ahead and did it anyway and now I like her! Shit!" I let my head fall into my hands, elbows propped up on the table. "Now I really like her, goddamnit."
"Stiles, why do you sound so upset about this?" Scott asked, pushing his plate away from him so he could focus on the conversation. "This isn't a bad thing." I raised my eyebrows incredulously, head snapping around to glance at Sadie's back before I turned back to him.
"W-Why am I upset? Not a bad thing? Scott this is a hugely bad thing!" I groaned, mirroring his position and leaning forward on the table.
"Why?"
"How about the fact that she's one of my best friends?" I offered in frustration. "I mean, if there's one girl who could possibly be more unavailable than Lydia, it'd be Sadie. She's friends with us, she sees us all the time, and I have about a snowball's chance in the fieriest section of hell of climbing out of the friendzone. How many times do I have to go over that with you? Hot girls just do not date their guy friends."
"Can you stop that?" Scott almost growled. "You didn't see a problem with Sadie dating a friend when you thought she was into me."
It felt like all of the organs in my chest had decided to slide down to crush my stomach. I'd momentarily forgotten about everything that was happening in the world around me. Yeah, it was huge that I'd somehow managed to subconsciously get over Lydia Martin and developed a new, potentially even more debilitating crush without realizing it. But Sadie wasn't just one of my friends. She was a friend who was very clearly in love with my best friend. So the fact that I'd finally come to terms with my feelings for her meant jack shit.
"Fuck," I groaned, head falling into my hands, "she is into you. She's my friend and she's already into you. Just…fuck! I can never fucking…!" I banged my fist down on the table, unable to actually finish the sentence. I just couldn't catch a fucking break. As if one reason wasn't enough, the universe had to slam me with two reasons I'd never get her attention. She was already too used to seeing me as a friend, and she was totally blinded by Scott and all his stupid dangerous, wolf-y glory. Scott, who was currently looking way too calm for the situation, almost smiling.
"Stiles! Calm down. I promise you, Sadie doesn't like me."
"Are you a fucking idiot?!" I snapped. "Yeah, she does. She gave this whole speech about…!"
"Yeah, I know, some guy she likes," Scott interrupted. "But can't you think of anyone else she's friends with who's spent pretty much his whole life pining over someone who doesn't like him?" I opened my mouth to retort, but nothing came out. Instead, I just sat there with my mouth open for a few seconds, trying and failing to process the words. I closed my mouth, then opened it again. Closed. Open.
"What?" I asked finally, making Scott roll his eyes with a dangerous amount of exasperation.
"Another guy," he repeated, giving me a pointed look, "who likes one of Sadie's friends that doesn't pay him any attention. Someone she's friends with and spends a lot of time with, besides me." I could feel my eyebrows slowly climbing higher and higher up my forehead as he spoke, but still couldn't speak. After a minute, Scott's hopeful face snapped back to anger, and he looked about two seconds away from having his eyes flash yellow and shredding me with his claws. "Stiles, think about everything she's done for us since she found out about me. Besides me, who else did she have to spend an insane amount of time with?" He glared at me, like he was trying to say, "If you don't say the right thing right now, I swear I'm gonna kill you."
"W-What?" I repeated, my eyes probably about to fall out of my face at that point. "What, Derek?"
"And you think I'm oblivious," he shot, taking an almost vicious sip from his water bottle.
"What? It's not like it's me," I scoffed. But Scott didn't respond. Instead, he just raised his eyebrows and stared at me pointedly for another few seconds. I shifted uncomfortably in my chair, but he didn't let up. "Come on, dude, seriously. I mean, if she did—which is totally and completely out of the question anyway—why would she set me up to go with Lydia?"
"If you like Sadie, why'd you set her up to go with me?" he countered, and I clamped my mouth shut. I was about to go on a rant about how I hadn't realized I'd liked her until a couple minutes ago, and I'd only set her up to go with Scott because I thought it was what she wanted, her dream date.
And then it hit me so hard I felt like my head was spinning. I'd thought Sadie liked Scott, so I had set them up because I wanted to see her happy, even if that meant not going with me. Had Sadie been doing the same thing? I'd said we were going as friends, and had probably been acting like a complete asshole since Lydia became single. What if she had just done what she thought would make me happy? Was that even possible?
I glanced over my shoulder, watching the way her hair swayed as she shifted in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. It seemed stupid to think that she could have her pick of guys in the school and then choose me. But then again, I reminded myself, that wasn't really the way relationships worked. I hadn't chosen to like Sadie. She'd basically fallen into my lap—almost literally—and I'd fought it ever step of the way. It was hard to believe that at the beginning of the year, I hadn't even wanted to be her friend. And if I had accidentally fallen for Sadie, was it possible that she'd accidentally begun to like me? About ninety-eight percent of my consciousness was going with no. I was too weird, too weak, too unimportant. Why like me when we were consistently hanging out with guys who pretty much had superpowers? But then there was the two percent, that little glimmer of hope that I'd talked to Sadie about, that was impossible to suppress. Only now it wasn't a hope that Lydia would turn around and miraculously see me as worthy of her time. Now it was a hope that Sadie had gotten to know some decent side of me that could make her consider me as more than a friend, all while I wasn't even looking.
"You think she likes me?" I demanded, wheeling back around in my chair to narrow my eyes at Scott. He pressed his mouth into a tight line and shrugged. "Oh, come on, dude!"
"I can't say."
"Can you not say because you don't know or can you not say because she told you not to say?" I interrogated, almost out of my chair I was leaning so far over the table. Scott opened his mouth and then shut it again.
"Can't say," he repeated. "All I'm saying is that you might want to think about why she's done everything that she has for us if she's not doing it for me."
So I paused, and I did. I replayed everything about Sadie in my head, from the moment I'd noticed she was the new occupant in the Martin house. Sadie recognizing me from my drive-bys over the summer. Sadie inviting me to her Welcome-to-Beacon-Hills party even though she knew I'd basically staked out her house. Sadie listening to me rant about how much I liked Lydia while Jackson was in the hospital. Sadie arguing with me about movies as we chaperoned Scott and Allison's first date. Sadie texting me at the lunch table during the set-up for bowling disaster. Sadie and I making subtle jokes during lunch when Scott and Allison had their first study date. Sadie standing up for my dad when Jackson yelled at him at the video store, even though she was hurt and bandaged up. Sadie grilling me for information about the murders, and actually believing me when I told her it was werewolves. Sadie coming over to visit my dad after that car hit him, and not choosing sides in my fight with Scott. Sadie talking about comic books. Sadie refusing to let us lure out the Alpha on our own, and risking her life to come to the school with us. Sadie and I talking about our parents while we were locked in the chemistry room. Sadie coming over to play video games with me and Scott, after Allison dumped him. Sadie agreeing to go to formal with me. Sadie keeping me company while we watched over Scott on the full moon. Sadie enthusiastically dragging us along on Halloween, making me uncomfortably hormonal for the entire day. Sadie helping in the search for a cure, talking us out of major trouble with Dr. Fenris. Sadie agreeing to go with Derek to the hospital to look for the Alpha, getting attacked again and almost dying all because she wanted me to get a chance to play in a lacrosse game. Sadie talking to me about unrequited love. Sadie and I crashing the Jeep and pretending to be on a date. Sadie convincing Lydia to be my date to the winter formal, and trying to keep me company as they dragged me along on their shopping trip. Sure, she'd stayed by Scott's side, and I had no doubt that they'd gotten closer. But everything Sadie had done since she'd arrived in Beacon Hills had also brought us closer. She was practically a lifeline for me, and it seemed stupid, impossible that I hadn't noticed it sooner.
I liked Sadie Bennet. And I had royally fucked up.
"Oh my God," I groaned again. "Because I asked… And then she… And then Lydia and Jackson… And I just… And then Sadie thought… I mean even I thought… And now I'm going… And she's…"
"Yeah, pretty much," Scott summed up, nodding smugly as I wiped a hand down my face.
"I mean, how did I not notice this sooner?!" I cried, mentally and repeatedly kicking myself. Scott shrugged.
"I don't know, man. I mean, I think you kinda just got sucked into the routine of liking Lydia. You didn't think you'd ever like anyone else."
"Yeah, but I've—I've been terrible," I realized, pushing myself forward to the edge of my seat. "I mean, first it was just maybe we could talk so I could be around Lydia, and then it was try not to be her friend, at least try not to be attracted to her, try not to like her, and look how that ended up! And we're—we're always calling each other by our last names and stuff, and texting and taking care of each other through all the wolf stuff! And I hate when she talks to Derek—like even talks about Derek, and I didn't want her to go to the dance with Isaac and I don't like that she's sitting with Boyd. I know I don't really have a surplus of girl friends, but seriously, how did I think that being that protective of someone was platonic?!"
"I don't know," Scott repeated in amusement.
"I mean, I tried to kiss her!"
"Woah, woah, woah!" Scott jumped, waving his hands in front of him as he practically jumped out of his seat. "You what?!"
"Yeah!" I affirmed, still shaking my head at my own obliviousness. "When—When we crashed into your mom's car she asked us where we were going and—and without even thinking about it I just said that we were on a date."
"You what?!"
"And Peter was there and there were roadhead jokes and handjob jokes and it was—God it was so bad. And then I drove her home and—and we were talking about the dance and your mom was watching us and I just—I just asked her if she thought we should kiss to make it more convincing."
"You what?!" Scott echoed for the third time, now getting to the point where he was almost annoying. Almost.
"I know!" I screeched, waving my hands in front of me. "And then your mom was lecturing me and I was thinking, 'Huh that was weird why would I want to kiss her?' And now it's like, 'Oh hey, fucking idiot, it's because you like her!'" I groaned, wiping a hand across my forehead again. "I mean, what am I supposed to do now?"
"You take her to the dance," Scott supplied simply. I rested my elbows on the table, turning my attention back to him.
"But I'm supposed to go with Lydia."
"Stiles, who cares?!" he cried. "It's Lydia, she'll be fine!"
"It's Lydia, and she'll be alone," I countered. "I can't just drop her like that. Besides, she's making it up to Allison." Scott ran a frustrated hand through his hair, exasperated with my valid point.
"Fine, I'll take her," he offered, and I scoffed.
"Right, after you made out with her at lacrosse? That will really make it up to Allison." It was amazing how referencing their kiss seemed so easy now. I still felt annoyed, angered that my best friend had betrayed me and lied to me, but it didn't seem as terribly painful as it once had. Just acknowledging my feelings for Sadie, however long I'd had them, seemed to make everything feel so much easier. Scott nodded morosely at my point, clearly not as comforted. "And if I go with Sadie," I continued, "you have no one to go with."
"I'll figure something out," he dismissed. "Just go with her!"
"Scott, Sadie wouldn't want to do that to you either," I pointed out. "You've gotta be there. Not just for the whole forbidden-teenage-romance thing, but because if Peter shows up, we're all screwed." Scott glared, but kept his mouth shut, thinking the statement over and trying to come up with some other excuse. But we both knew that I was right.
"So that's it?" he asked bitterly. "You finally realize that you're totally crazy about Sadie and you're gonna let her go to the formal with me?"
"I have to," I sighed, resting my head in my hands again. "I want to take her but I just…I'm such a fucking idiot." I let my elbows slip to the sides, my head falling down to collide painfully with the tabletop. I groaned, but couldn't find the energy to move. I finally realize I have feelings for an amazing girl I might actually have a shot with, and Scott's werewolfitude and a shitload of other furry problems make sure that I can't do a single goddamn thing about it.
"Hey, it's okay," Scott consoled, reaching over the table to pat me on the shoulder. "You don't have to be her date to spend time with her. We'll think of something." I nodded into the table in reply, pressing my nose into the fake, printed wood.
"Just do me a favor," I sighed, lifting my head so my chin was resting on the tabletop.
"Yeah?"
"Don't…Don't get her any flowers…"
A/N: It never ceases to amaze me that this whole scene was about a paragraph in the actual chapter. And here? This is ten pages. I feel like, by the time I go back to writing from Sadie's point of view, everything is going to be like twelve times longer. This could be a chapter on its own, and it's one conversation. I don't even know what I'm doing anymore. But it was heavily requested and it's up. I hope you guys liked it. I was afraid it got really repetitive and sappy, but I physically NEED to publish so I can work on other things. So let me know.
In other news, I explained myself poorly in the last chapter. What I intended was to ask for 10 Sadles headcanons, either in a review or a message. And instead, you all seemed to read that as a review OR a headcanon. I'm sorry I was unclear. I don't know. I just really like hearing from you guys.
Anyway, let me know what you think!
-Brittney
