I cut the engine and slammed the door. So what if his dad was home. Allison gave me a pointed look, sure, I was acting like a seven year old, and I didn't really give a damn. What the hell happened? Why was Erica there? Why did Scott and Stiles completely ditch us? I wanted to yell at her, ask her so many questions, but the tired look she had in her eye gave me a sense of clarity. She had no idea.

I sighed while walking over and rubbing her arm. Sure it was out of character, but I had been for a while, after all. Allison smiled then, one of those real, adorable smiles. I did too, and walked with her back to my car that was parked on the side of the road. We drove to her house in silence, the whole way there letting the radio hum some tunes that neither of us cared much for.

It was something Stiles would have liked, an indie band, I think. Stiles. Anger washed through me. He just left me there. He is so lucky that my dad had taught me to drive stick a year ago. But he must have known that. Wasn't his dad teaching him too? I let my head rest on my knuckles as I drove, the same knuckles he stroked with his surprisingly soft hand earlier. That whole moment was perfect. Why the hell did Erica Reyes have to go and ruin it? It had to have been what she wanted. I pulled into Allison's semi circle driveway and put the car in park. We sat in more silence. She was playing with her hands, something that I have learned over these past few months that calms her.

"I can't go in there like this." She whispered.

"They'd ask too many questions." I nodded.

She sighed, a long drawn out breath.

"Are you okay?" I asked, knowing damn well she wasn't.

"Sure, Lydia. I just hate when he does that."

"Scott?" She nodded.

I licked my lips, she told me to be patient, she told me she'd tell me everything. Was this the time?

"Anyway" She smiled, her eyes still glassy. "I'll see you on Monday."

This obviously wasn't the time.

I nodded.

"Goodnight, Allison."

"Night, Lydia."

Then she was gone. The large front door closed behind her.

I drove home still listening to that indie station.

I spent all Monday analyzing Issac Lahey.

Not stalking, just monitoring.

I really don't remember much of him, I know that he had an extremely hot older brother, he worked at the pool when I was a junior life guard. I know that he is Jackson's neighbor, he was on the lacrosse team and that he was pretty much an outcast. He did hang around a lot with Erica now. So did that mean he hung around Scott and Stiles? I rubbed my temple while I watched practice today from the bleachers. The breeze was chilly and it helped some with my mental clarity. Championships were coming up soon and the team was working over time. Issac had something to do with all my friends lying. He had to, Erica too. They all fit into this puzzle that I was piecing together all wrong. Issac had a complete makeover as well, and sure he was good looking, all sharp angles and strong jaw, but there was something different there too, not just physical, he seemed, I don't know, dangerous.

Stiles had spotted me, waved and clambered his way over. I smiled, feeling my pulse rise.

"Hey, Lydia. What are you doing here?" Stalking.

"Nothing, just felt like watching practice." I shrugged lamely.

He sat next to me, bulky from the padding.

"Coach said I might get to actually play in the championship."

I nodded, watching as Issac walked the opposite way of the locker room, towards the woods.

"That's nice." I mumbled absentmindedly. What the hell was he doing?

"So, about Friday night-" He started.

"Don't worry about it." I shrugged.

"No, you deserve an explanation."

Oh, is he actually going to give me one?

I looked up at him, sweat trickled down the side of his face, perspiration damping his upper lip.

"I'm sorry that I had to leave, and that I made you drive my jeep, and that we were- interrupted."

He wasn't looking at me, he was fooling around with his gloves.

I smirked, glad he wasn't just going to pretend it didn't almost happen. Though I had no doubt that he kept the memory on a loop in his mind, like I had. Against my better judgment, of course.

I heard her before I saw her.

"Like we are being right now." I heard him growl. No longer looking at his glove but towards the blonde in front of us.

"Sorry if I'm intruding, I just really need to talk to you, Stiles."

"Perfect timing." I sneered at her. "I was just leaving anyway."

I gave Stiles a look and he was screaming sorry with his eyes.

I walked off the bleachers and back towards school.

I turned quickly ready to tell Stiles to call me later, you know, so I could ask him a few questions about Derek and Issac and why he was lying and why he was rushed out of the roller rink, and maybe just a little to get the satisfaction of seeing Erica's face. But the comment died in my throat, as I turned to see Erica wrapped in Stiles' arms, she was pressed so close to him I swear I couldn't breathe for him. Was she crying? I turned again, and practically ran back into the school.

I could care less if Erica and Stiles hugged. I mean, please, I wasn't in seventh grade. This was innocent and just stupid of me to act like a child. What the hell was this feeling? Stupid. It was just stupid. I groaned and headed towards my locker, needing my things before I drove home. I mean honestly, Jackson taking Allison to Formal didn't even feel like this. That was different, that was real. This wasn't real. Stiles Stilinski and Erica Reyes didn't matter. I'd come to my senses soon, I prayed. As I turned the corner, searching my bag for my phone I slammed right into someone. I looked up, ready to yell, when I saw the look in those green blue eyes.

"Jackson?" I breathed. "Are you okay?"

He looked terrible. I mean I have never seen this boy look even remotely sick before, but this, this was a sight. He was sweating, but he wasn't at practice, his eyes were bloodshot, his hand trembled as it wiped at the beads of sweat on his forehead. I gulped a bit, taking a step back.

"Do you need the nurse? She may still be here."

"No." He snapped. "I don't need the nurse."

"Can I get you water, or an Advil, I think I have one in my purse."

I went for my bag, to rummage through it when his tight hold took my wrist. I gasped in panic.

"Jackson, let go." I shook my arm free.

He blinked and stepped further back.

"S-Sorry." He was panting.

"I-I gotta go."

And then he stormed off.

Could he be any weirder?

I sighed, trying to shake this sense of danger overcoming me and headed to my locker, after grabbing my books I shut the door and was faced with someone I never thought I'd ever actually meet.

"Lydia Martin, correct?"

I nodded quickly.

"Hi, I'm-"

"Derek Hale." I whispered, my pupils had to have been dilating.

He was rugged and dangerous, cloaked in leather and scruff.

He was sexy, mysterious, and threat-less green eyes.

"I am looking for Jackson, have you seen him."

What, did everyone replace me with this guy?

I shook my head, because I didn't think he was coming to chum it up with Jackson.

"Sorry, haven't seen him." I smiled.

"Hm." He looked at me, jaw set. Like he knew I was lying.

"If you do see him, do me a favor-" He smiled at me.

I swear his eyes were telling me to run.

"Call Scott or Stiles."

I nodded, a bit breathless.

He started to walk away, back down the hall where I assumed he came from.

"Hey, Derek?"

He turned.
"How's your uncle, Peter?"

His threat-less eyes, they turned cold.

"Why do you ask?"

I shrugged."Saw him the other day."

Derek stiffened, and I knew I had made a mistake.

Well, so much for being perfect.

"You must have the wrong guy, Lydia. He's dead."

Then he was gone. Then I panicked.