Hey guys, so one of you requested longer chapters. I'll try to keep each one above 3,000 words. I try to split them up when I change scenes to keep it clear, but I'll work it out. If anyone else has any requests feel free to PM me or put it into your review. Thank you again for reading, reviewing, favoriting and following. I know my writing is a bit different with so much dialogue, but hopefully you all like that. I try to show the characters through their words instead of with descriptions. I do not own anything Teen Wolf related, I only own Max and the storyline. Enjoy!
I watched the afternoon sun on my ceiling fade away as the moon rose outside. How long had I been laying here? Words and images kept me busy for hours. I thought back to the first night. What if Scott hadn't come with me into the woods that night? What if I went alone? What if I were bitten instead of Scott? I seriously doubt Derek would like me any better… But maybe I wouldn't be so scrawny. Maybe I would have bulked up like Scott… I let my head turn sideways catching sight of myself in the mirror above the desk that once supported my computer. My pale face, big eyes and sticking up hair come into view. I push the hair back, but it only makes it worse. I groan before rolling onto my other side.
I should have killed the alphas. How did that not even cross my mind? I am sick of being the screw up of the group. I want them to value me as an asset not a disability. I think back to the night I could have taken the bite, I could have become one of them! Would my life be easier or just as hectic? Or maybe I should have just crashed the car. Let the werewolves walk away and dispose of the stupid human. I squeeze my eyes tight just as my door creaks open.
"You've been in here all day," dad says. I don't turn to him.
"I know," I say rolling my eyes, but he doesn't see.
"You sick?" he says and I roll my eyes again. He wasn't the gentlest man, not like mom was. I squeeze my eyes closed again trying to dispel the image of her.
"No, just tired," I fake a yawn.
"I made dinner," he says.
"Not hungry."
"It'll be in the fridge if you want it," he says then lets the door close again. I feel lonely and detached from all of my friends, is what I want to tell dad. Sure we share the secret, Scott and I, but really it's his. The only reason I know Derek, Peter and Isaac is because of Scott's secret, in my mind that means they are more Scott's friends then mine. The one person I have in my life, that isn't Scott's, is Lydia and I'm not sure if Lydia even thinks of me as a friend! Maybe Max was right; I do too much for others and never expect anything from them. Wait! I shoot up in my bed. I have Max. Suddenly I'm on my feet moving toward the door and down the stairs.
"Changed your mind?" dad calls from the kitchen his mouth full of the chicken thick on the air.
"Yeah," I call back shuffling through the coat rack looking for my sweatshirt. "But not about dinner." I think hard on the last place I saw my sweatshirt, kitchen, living room, school, car, Max. "I'll be back later!" I yell as I push open the front door and rush toward my car.
"Alrighty," I catch my dad call back as the door swings shut. The moment I get in the car my phone rings.
"Hello?" I answer as I start to back up onto the quiet, darkening street.
"Hey," Scott's voice vibrates through the phone.
"Oh hey," I say back.
"Are you doing ok? Your dad called me, said you were in bed all day," Scott says anxiously, but I can also hear a hint of embarrassment.
"Did he really? Jesus Christ. Sorry, no I'm fine. I'm in the car right now," I tell him shaking my head. "I admit Derek's comment the other night had me a little shaken up, but I'm totally fine."
"The one about you um…" he doesn't or can't say dying.
"Yeah," I don't want to say it either.
"Right… Well if you want to come over I was going to tuck into my savings and get a few classic monster movies. You could come watch. Keep my mind off you know who..." Scott says changing the subject and mood.
"No, uhh actually I'm going to see a different friend…" I stumble over what to say. I don't want to tell him it's Max because I don't know if I'll actually get to see her. "And I doubt watching movies about things your girlfriend kills for sport is going to make you forget her!" I yell into the receiver.
"She gave it up, remember?"
"Yeah, just like you gave up on her," I sigh.
"Well who are you seeing?" Scott huffs. "Someone I don't know?"
"Don't sound so shocked. I have other friends!" I yell into the phone.
"Like who? Please don't tell me its Lydia. I know Jackson is gone, but Stiles you have to drop it. Your obsession with her has gotten pretty bad lately…"
"It's not Lydia!" I yell.
"Then who?" he yells back.
"I have to go!" I yell again as I pull up in front of Derek's apartment.
"Will you just tell me who ya-" I hang up on him mid sentence as I get out. I stride quickly into the lobby of the old, brick, once upon a time factory building. I don't bother with the elevator buttons this time. I practically run down Derek's hallway to reach number 9. I wrap on the door three times before it swings open.
"Calm down Stiles what's the rush?" Isaac says laughing at my vigorous knocking.
"Derek here?" I ask straightening my t-shirt.
"Uhh… Yeah. Hey Derek?" Isaac calls into the bare apartment. "Stiles wants you," Isaac smiles back at me as I hear someone trump down the spiral stairs.
"Stiles?" Derek's brow furrows when he sees me. "What's wrong with Scott?"
"Nothing. Not everything is about Scott," I say laughing slightly.
"Then what do you want?" Derek asks aggressively.
"I want you to chill out," I mutter under my breath.
"What?" Derek asks leaning closer to my face.
"Do you know Max's address?" I ask impatiently.
"She's apartment three at 42 Grove Street," Derek huffs.
"Thank you," I say bowing slightly before running back toward the staircase.
"That's all you wanted?" Derek steps into the hall as he yells to me.
"Believe me I want as little from you as possible!" I smile before disappearing down the stairs. My legs pulse as I sprint back to the car. I rev the engine and am spinning down the street toward Grove Street in a matter of seconds. Max lied about it being right down the road it took me a good eight minutes by car. Finally I reach the apartment building not unlike Derek's, but slightly more rundown. I pull the jeep off to the side of the road and then spring from it like a jack in the box ready to be freed. I run up to the second floor where the board told me apartment three was located. I calm myself and inhale deeply before raising my hand to knock.
"Stiles?" Max says as the door swings open.
"How'd you know I was here? I didn't knock… Right? Or am I just that wound up that I missed knocking on your-"
"No!" she breaks in laughing. "I was just on my way out."
"Oh, is this a bad time then?" I ask taking a step back. "I just didn't have your number so I couldn't call, so I thought I'd come over-" she cuts me off again.
"Now today you are talking a lot," she says grabbing the sleeve of my faded t-shirt and pulling me into her brick apartment. It is smaller than Derek's and looks like it's only got one floor. The door opens up to a small wood and stainless steel kitchen and a beat up leather couch facing a large window. There is only one visible door hanging open exposing a silver fixture bathroom. The apartment looks fairly expensive, but its small and it looks like the only thing Max has brought in here is the beat up couch and a squat dresser.
"Nice place," I say spinning around as she closes the door.
"Not as nice as yours," she smiles as she moves over to the fridge. "I lived in a house just like yours when I was little."
"Oh yeah?" I ask as she pulls out two bottles of water.
"I moved out when my parents died," she smiles that sad nostalgic smile I know crosses my face when I mention my mom. I take the bottle from her and nod.
"I moved out of my childhood home when my mom passed," I feel the nostalgic smile fill my face. She nods and opens the bottle taking a sip. I appreciate her, she understands, she doesn't say I'm sorry, she doesn't say I'm sure you miss her, all she does is nod. In that way she reminds me of my mother, she always seems to know exactly what to do.
"Oh and…" she swallows as she puts her bottle down on the counter. "Don't worry about not calling, I don't have a phone."
"No phone?" I feel more surprised than I think I should.
"I know crazy right!" she says copying my surprised face.
"Well aren't you a special snowflake," I laugh crossing my arms.
"Hey, hey," she looks sideways at me with those imposing blue eyes. "I am no snowflake."
"You dress out of the norm, you have like one piece of furniture, you have a weird clunky buckle backpack and your best friend is a big black dog. I assume you have an impeccable taste in music too, but it's made up of only bands I've never heard of," I smirk as she crosses the room.
"I like mainstream pop and rock. Actually as mainstream as it comes. The dog came with the family, I told him to leave, but he keeps coming back. My backpack is practical, it's for my research. I have three pieces of furniture, dresser, couch and TV. Not because I'm simplistic, it's because I'm poor. I like to wear what I think looks good, so one day I'll wear this and the next day you'll see me in a polka dot dress. You my friend are the hipster between us," she says, her eyebrows raised. She is clearly happy with herself.
"I don't see a TV," I say looking around.
"It's small. It's hidden behind the couch," she says walking over toward the floor to ceiling window the couch is facing. "Come here," she waves me over so I can see the tiny TV in all its glory. Beside it are three stacks of DVDs and Xbox games.
"Xbox?" I say as I slump down into the couch. "That's pretty special snowflake of you. You play a lot of COD?" I ask sarcastically.
"No," she frowns at me. "I don't like first person shooters. I like third person open world games," she tells me as she flops down beside me.
"Like Assassin's Creed?" I ask skimming the titles I can see from where I'm sitting.
"And Grand Theft Auto and Skyrim and Fallout, LA Nior and Red Dead Redemption," she nods. I can't help but smile.
"I love Red Dead," I sigh.
"LA Nior is my favorite, but I could still kick your butt at Red Dead," she says smiling sweetly.
"Looks like someone's looking to get their ass handed to them," I say quickly before feeling silly talking to this girl who is currently dressed in jeans and a faded red t-shirt, a lot like mine, about some games that Scott doesn't even like. "Wait," I say looking closer at the shirt. "Do we have the same shirt on?" She looks down then crosses her arms over her chest.
"Boy's clothes are cute too!" she moans. "I didn't think I was going to see you…" I raise my eyebrows.
"You'd have worn something different if you knew you were going to see me?" I smirk at her and she rolls her eyes.
"Something much more unappealing," she says sarcastically as she lifts up my shirt by the collar pulling it over my head. "Speaking of unappealing," she says as she stands up and I pull my shirt back down. She walks into the bathroom. "Damnit!" I hear her scream before she comes back out with my sweatshirt. "I stubbed my toe," she frowns as she holds my sweatshirt out in front of her.
"Thanks, I thought I lost this earlier today," I laugh as I stand up to accept the blue sweatshirt.
"You forgot you gave it to me?" she asks as I slip it on.
"I kind of I lose stuff a lot so that was my first thought," I say.
"Right," she laughs slightly biting her bottom lip. Then my mind is overcome with images of my lips on hers I try to blink them away. "Not to be rude or anything, but why are you here?"
"Oh… Uhh…" I stammer for an excuse, anything Stiles! Literally anything.
"You are one funny kid, one second you can stop talking and the next you are at a complete loss of words," she laughs under her breath as she heads toward the door. "While you think of an excuse how about you come on a walk with me?"
"Sounds good," I nod running out the door after her. "Thanks for returning my sweatshirt, I'd have been cold without it."
"Sure thing," she says as she pulls on her own sweatshirt before locking her apartment door. "Sorry about the smell." She says not looking at me as she fiddles with her backpack.
"Smell?" I say inhaling a mix of deep, musty, almost man like perfume and the smell of fresh laundry. "You washed it?"
"I fell asleep in it," she pushes her arms through her backpack before cupping her hands over her face like she's embarrassed. We head down the stairs as she explains. "I felt bad. I felt like I had to wash it."
"You know guys like the thought of girls in bed with their clothes on," I smirk at her. "Even you."
"Ouch!" she yells as we get out onto the street. "I figured you could just slip it on right after the game tomorrow and you'd be all set, girl smell gone, smelly lacrosse boy returned."
"Good idea, only problem is I'd have to get one of the other guys to wear it because I don't get that sweaty after a game." I frown thinking about how I still haven't made first string even after the last game of last season and all my summer practice. I thought about just leaving the team for a while. Maybe play football. Like Clan McCall I was slightly under appreciated by Coach.
"You don't?" she asks quickly. "Are you super man?" she gasps sarcastically.
"I'm about as much of a superman as you," I raise my eyebrows at her as we step up the curb to enter the woods. We aren't too far from the Hale house. I'll make sure to miss that stop on this trip.
"Then you must be pretty fricken super," she says flexing her muscles. "I'm immortal."
"Oh yeah I could tell by the way you yelled about stubbing your toe earlier," I nod quickly.
"I pretend to be pained sometimes to fit in with the normals," she says proudly puffing out her chest as we march.
"You're doing a stellar job," I nod. "Should we go over all the things that make you a different again?"
"But it's the perfect cover! Most people are dense like you. They just think I'm a hipster!" She yells excitedly throwing her hands up in the air.
"Hey," I say looking around. "I just realized I haven't seen Puca."
"That loser is probably out here scaring the crap out of people," she huffs crossing her arms over the white word Harvard that spans her chest.
"Loser? That's how you talk about your dog?" I say shaking my head.
"Ha. Yeah. Dog," she says sarcastically before looking sideways at me. "He's a loser, trust me."
"Ok, forget Puca, tell me about this sweatshirt," I say pushing up against her back to pull her arms away from her chest. Even through the few layers of clothes I like feeling her body pressed to mine and I'm disappointed when she pulls away.
"My grandfather got it for me as a joke," she says looking back at me sticking her tongue out.
"So you aren't thinking of going there then?" I ask.
"Hell no." I'm not quite sure why I feel so relieved. "No, college for me. I have to finish the research. What about you?"
"College? I've always seen myself going, but I've never really thought about it," I rub my chin thinking of all the schools that have sent me pamphlets. "Clock's ticking! One year to go!" she says excitedly.
"Right. So… Tell me about your research," I say looking sideways at her.
"How come you get to ask all the questions?" she asks.
"Ok fine, ask away," I sigh.
"Why were you in the woods the other night?" she asks losing any joking tone from her voice.
"Alright wait, I asked you that question and you didn't give me an answer," I cross my arms as we stop in the middle of the seemingly endless trees.
"I said research!" she says exasperatedly.
"I mean when I asked you later for details," I say just as frustrated.
"You never asked that," she says quickly.
"Yes I did," I say just as fast.
"No you didn't," her brow furrows.
"Yes!" I say back.
"I don't remember that," she shakes her head.
"It happened."
"No."
"Yes."
"No! It happened in your dreams!" she screams. I review all of our conversations. Maybe I hadn't asked. Maybe I had just created the conversation so many times in my head I thought we'd already had it.
"Ok well I'm not giving details until you do," I cross my arms. She copies and then sticks her tongue out at me like a little kid before stalking away.
"You are the most absolutely frustrating person, besides Derek Hale, to ever walk this-" she sticks her arm out in front of me so I stop walking. "What?" I look at her and she points to a skinless body a few feet in front of us. "Oh my-" I feel like I'm going to gag. I step back and close my eyes. "I am not good with blood!" I yell rubbing my face.
"This is even worse than the other body. There has to be two of them…" she mutters.
"Ok this is not ok. Oh God, oh God. I'm calling my dad," I say trying to pull my phone from my pocket.
"No!" she yells and I open one eye to see her bent down over the body a notebook open. She is furiously drawing the body.
"What are you doing?!" I screech closing both eyes again. "I'm calling him, he needs to see this, he's the-"
"Don't call your dad!" She yells over me.
"He's the sheriff he needs to see-"
"Stiles!" she cuts through my rambling again.
"He's going to be so mad that I found the body. The computer, now the body-"
"Stiles! Stiles!" I open one eye again when her hand braces my elbow. "Please don't call your dad, please."
"Why? I don't-" I say shaking my head.
"This is it! This is why I was in the woods!" she shouts. "This is my research!"
"Dead people?" I yell. "Are you a necrophiliac or something?"
"No!" She screams. "I'm studying the creature that did-" the sounds and lights of my dad's squad car closing in cut her off.
"I swear to God I didn't call him," I say quickly throwing my hands up.
"Shut up and hide!" she yells pushing me down behind a granite boulder.
"Why are we hiding?"
"You said he'd be pissed if he found you with the body!" she furrows her brow and drops her voice to a whisper as the sound of cars stopping and car doors slamming waver over to us.
"I think it was really just rambling. I get sick and sweaty and rambly when I see a lot of blood and that was A LOT of blood!" I yell.
"Shhh!" she growls angrily.
"What?" I say standing up. "He won't be pissed, I promise," I say stepping out from behind the boulder.
"He'll be suspicious though when he finds me next to this body just like the last one!" she whisper screams just as dad yells my name.
"Stiles!" dad yells. "What in the Sam Hell are you doing here? You said you were leaving to see a friend!" dad says as he approaches the rock.
"I did, I mean I am," I say before looking back behind the rock. I somehow knew she'd be gone.
"What?" dad says looking behind the rock.
"Scott saw the lights and freaked," I lie.
"Oh," dad's brow furrows. "That's not like him."
"He's kind of jumpy lately, with the death you know. But what are you doing here?" I lie again.
"Another death, over there. Gary's got the light on it now," dad says trumping through the leaves toward the body. I again react physically to the sight of the skinless human. Death fills my airways and constricts my breathing. Its eyes are cocked and bones through muscle are clearly visible. It lays lifeless in a pool of it's own blood. I have to turn away.
"Oh my god," I say again bending in half feeling like I might vomit.
"It's sick what people will do," dad says angrily.
"Right," I say swallowing hard. "Sick what people will do."