A/N: Um, so, guess this is the part where I put apologies for the delay on this chapter... Sorry... It's been done for a while, I just didn't really have the time to post it until now. Any and all free time has been going towards two big bangs and an exchange fic (hysterical laughter as I descend into madness) so this fic was put on the back burner since there's no real deadline on it or anything. Whoops. Sorry. And while I'm apologizing, sorry for the delay on the next chapter. No clue when it'll be written. Sorry. Again.

The next few days passed by without incident.

Derek managed to get the bookshelves up to his attic room alone, his books arranged neatly. He spent practically all his time by himself, either researching places to shift or colleges back east, reading every now and then when his eyes were tired of the laptop screen.

Scott was hardly ever home, spending more time over at Stiles' house—judging by the scent he always wore when he came home—or with his new group of friends, becoming more and more dopey each time he was around Allison. Who he never shut up about. Ever. He also continued constantly glaring at his older brother, his own attitude towards the other Alpha becoming frostier than ever. The two barely exchanged words and more than once Derek had heard a muttered "fucking asshole" whenever he left a room Scott was in. Derek just let it roll off his back, ignoring the sharp spice of anger and indignation that accompanied Scott's scent more often.

Melissa got a job at Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital in the ER, a position much like her old one back in New York. She was also back to the irregular schedule, sometimes being gone for over a day with only a mass text saying she was sleeping there as a sign she was alive and okay. Her time off was spent sleeping or eating, going out with old high school friends once on a group lunch. Derek hadn't liked the hint of Stilinski's scent on her clothes when she came back, but knew there wasn't really anything he could do about it. Not without getting himself into further shit anyway.

Maria also kept to herself a lot, going out to bridge club or bingo nights, tending to the gardens she had out back and in the front yard. She'd recruited Derek's help several times, using him to help cut down tree limbs that had gotten too low, to trim hedges that had grown too high, having him mow the lawn and trim the edges with the weed-whacker. She never spoke to him though, simply hummed along with the Spanish language station she played on the radio she'd set on the back deck or front steps, depending on where she was working that day.

And Stiles? Well, Derek just flat out hadn't seen the guy since he'd given him shit in the basement a few days prior. The Alpha would catch a hint of his scent when taking out the trash, thought he smelled a stronger version of it along with that aroused note while mowing, but whenever he looked, the Omega was nowhere to be seen.

Derek had no idea if that was a good thing or not.

Because not seeing Stiles had been exactly what he'd wanted. He'd wanted the little shit gone, out of his hair—and his nose—no longer tormenting him or torturing him with possibilities of what he could have if he'd just let someone in, just form an attachment to someone of some sort.

But his wolf was hating it. It missed that sweet scent, the sugary smell that made him high and giddy and tingly all over. It missed those whiskey eyes that were countless different shades of brown and gold all swirled together. It missed that smooth expanse of pale skin dotted by random moles and freckles. It missed that voice that somehow managed to be smooth yet harsh at the same time and managed to calm him. It missed Stiles.

And the human side of him did, too.

Yet he refused to give in, refused to go to the Stilinskis' to see or touch or smell or have anything to do with Stiles. But shit, was it hard. Because he passed that house several times every morning on his runs, and without fail, on his final cool down lap, he'd stop at the end of their path and fight the urge to walk up it, to knock on that door, to apologize to the Omega for being a dick and a douche and whatever else he'd been called behind his back, and please, just forgive him, he needed Stiles in his life.

Not happening.

He was refusing.

And so far, he was winning.

If having a miserable, morose, whining, howling, agitated wolf constantly clawing at his insides and driving him insane was winning. Yep, total champ right there.

Fuck his life.

The first day of school seemed to sneak up outta nowhere, despite Melissa's constant reminders that it was coming up soon and the fact that she literally dumped a box of random school supplies on Derek's bed two days before the actual date. She didn't even wait for any sort of acknowledgment or thank you, simply emptied the contents then walked off. Derek figured he should just be grateful she even remembered to get the shit, only to remember that it didn't matter how he felt about her, she was still his mother and was still going to act as such.

Hence him still being on dish duty and trash duty and "I don't care what you're reading or researching or whatever, just go help your abuela in the yard and quit complaining" duty.

Whatever. At least it wasn't dusting. The spray polish irritated his nose terribly.

Derek went through his usual morning routine: up at five-thirty, morning run, then shower, before shoving a couple notebooks and some pens in his backpack. If he needed anything else, he'd just bring it the next day. For the time being, that would suffice.

Melissa was there for breakfast, Scott scarfing down his cereal while she sat quietly drinking her coffee in a set of purple scrubs, curly hair pulled back in a ponytail. Conversation was non-existent, save for her announcing she was headed to work after they left and most likely wouldn't be home when they returned from school, and Scott declaring he had a ride to and from and that more than likely, he'd be hanging out with friends elsewhere. He'd glared at his older brother on the last word but Derek refused to respond, simply keeping his eyes and his focus on his own breakfast.

Derek arrived at school earlier than he'd normally need to, knowing he had to meet with the guidance counselor. Countless heads had turned when he'd parked his Camaro, curious whispers washing over him like the wind as gossip ran rampant, questions as to who he was, where he'd come from, why he was in Beacon Hills and not half-naked in an underwear ad on a Times Square billboard.

He'd admittedly frowned at that, thinking it was a bit excessive. Objectively he could admit he was attractive, but not to that degree. And certainly not to the point where the hints of aroused scents seemed to hit his nose as he walked through the halls towards his destination made any sort of sense to him.

Miss Morell's office was as stereotypical as he could imagine, a single desk she sat behind, two chairs in front, countless motivational posters scattered on white brick walls. A tall bookshelf was located to the right of her, filled with countless books on psychology, child psychology, adolescent psychology, case studies for this disorder and that affliction, behavioral patterns and studies and guidelines, along with random wolf-centric statuettes.

He refused to think about the inkblot test cards he caught sight of on the corner of her desk. Hopefully he'd never have to suffer through her holding them up and asking him what he saw. He wouldn't be able to handle the look she'd give him when he told her they all looked like bloodstains, either on Melissa's scrubs or at the scene of a murder.

Or a car wreck.

Not that he thought Morell's face was capable of holding any sort of expression other than impassive boredom. It was his second time seeing her and her features were still arranged in the same flat way they had been the first time he'd sat down in that room, in that very same chair.

Her skin was the same light brown tone as before, like coffee with too much creamer, her long black hair stick straight once again. Full lips covered in nude colored gloss, brown eyes appearing free of any make-up, although a slight hint of a powdery scent meant she was wearing something. Her frame was covered in red silk, hands folded neatly on top of the desk as she kept her steady gaze on him, not offering any clue as to what she was thinking through facial expression or scent. Just a mild twitch of a manicured eyebrow that possibly could've been imagined when he finished reading what she'd given him.

His new class schedule.

Folding the sheet of paper, he let it settle on his lap, keeping his own features flat as he met her steely gaze with one of his own. She leaned forward over her desk, voice steady and with a soothing timber that suited her profession.

"Any questions?"

Derek wanted to say "no" and just get the fuck outta there, but unfortunately for him, it wasn't possible. Not when there was a huge glaring abnormality in his list of classes.

"Why do I have two lit courses?" he inquired, trying to keep his own tone even and steady and not make it seem as though he was demanding or ungrateful, but still not allowing any amount of joy or positivity to leak in.

Mostly because he wasn't feeling any of it. Really, the only good thing about the first day of school meant there was now only a hundred and seventy-nine more to go before he graduated and was out of Beacon Hills.

"Your old school in New York didn't offer Shakespearean Lit, which is what seniors here at BHL take," she explained in the same placid tone she always used. "And while seniors back at Queens Alpha-Beta Lyncanthropic are taking American Lit, our juniors take that course. Both are required for graduation, so you need to take both this year, taking away your free period."

Derek nodded, staring down at his schedule, barely seeing the black text printed on white paper. He honestly didn't mind losing a free period, not when he didn't really know anyone to shoot the shit with or have anywhere to go. A free hour would just result in him being bored. Plus two lit courses wasn't too bad. He happened to like lit and reading—as much as Kate made fun of him over it, calling him a bookworm dork and laughing whenever she caught him reading for fun. Dealing with two hours of that subject was no biggie to him. Two hours of math or science on the other hand...

"Any other issues?" Morell prompted, managing to sound concerned and wholly disinterested at the same time.

He shook his head, folding up the schedule and map he'd been given and shoving both in the pocket of his jeans. "Can I go now?" he questioned, grabbing a strap of his backpack as it sat on the ground between his splayed legs.

The guidance counselor sat back, pressing her lips into a hard line while nodding. "Just know that if you ever need to talk about anything, whether it's school or about your dad, my door is always open and my ears always listening."

The Alpha clenched his fist around his strap, stiffly rising to his feet. The mention of his dad had come completely unprompted and was totally unappreciated, especially from a stranger. His father's death was a sacred thing that should remain untouched by everyone, never to be discussed. Hell, it wasn't even mentioned in his own house anymore. This random person having the balls to bring him up like that rubbed Derek's fur the wrong way and he found his eyes narrowing at her.

His thankfully still human eyes.

"I don't wanna talk," he gritted out. "About anything."

Morell simply kept her eyes locked on him, looking completely unphased. If she noticed his trembling from trying to keep control of his emotions and rein in his wolf, she didn't show it, features as flat as always. "If you ever change your mind—" she spoke, ending the statement there, allowing him to fill in the rest from her previous offer.

"I won't," he responded tersely, leaving the room without another word. Having already memorized the map and his schedule, he slung his backpack over his shoulder and made his way across campus to his first period World History class, ready to just get the day over and done with.

Hundred seventy-nine to go.

Because the universe wasn't done making Derek its bitch, his first two classes were on complete opposite sides of the school. On different floors. So he narrowly made it to his Calculus class before the bell rang, which led to a false sense of things looking up for him.

Which, really, he should've known better.

Because luck decided to shit on him once again by leaving him only one available desk.

Right behind Stiles.

Derek stood in the doorway staring at the Omega, who was busy leaning over and chatting with a redheaded female who was rolling green eyes and pursing painted pink lips at whatever he was yammering about at that moment. Shock had the Alpha rooted to the spot, his eyes wide, brows raised as he took in the male he hadn't seen for nearly a week, his scent overruling all those of the other students in the room. Stiles was there. He was really there. In all his pale skinned, tawny haired, mole dotted, sweet smelling glory.

His wolf started barking, clawing, demanding Derek walk right over and claim him in front of everyone, that he scent-mark him and bite him and stake his claim right then and there, making sure every other wolf at that school knew who the Omega belonged to.

Although now that he thought about it...

What the hell was an Omega doing at a school full of Alphas and Betas?

A throat was angrily cleared beside him and he snapped out of it, seeing an olive-toned female with straight black hair standing there, arms folded over her dark blue blouse, tight black jeans completing the look. Miss Kali, if he remembered his schedule right.

"Mind taking a seat so I can start class?" she inquired with a raised eyebrow, dark eyes daring him to object, like she wanted nothing more than to put this punk kid in his place with an audience watching her do it.

Clearly an Alpha then.

Derek just grit his jaw, nodding tightly once, before making his way down the side of the classroom and across three rows, to the lone available seat in the very back. Stiles tensed up with his every step, turning to face the front of the room, the redhead he'd been chatting with glancing back and forth between him and Derek with inquisitive eyes and lips twisted in thought. Kate had a friend back in New York who frequently wore a similar look, almost always followed by her digging into someone's business to figure out if her theories regarding their behavior was correct.

Meaning this redhead was gonna badger Stiles after class to try and see why the Omega had gotten so quiet and still upon the Alpha's approach.

Derek mentally snorted. Good luck with that.

Slumping down with a huff, he allowed his backpack to slip off his shoulder and fall onto the floor just as the teacher turned and wrote on the chalkboard, black painted claws on full display. Derek grabbed a pencil and notebook to copy down what she was telling them, barely able to focus, mostly unaware of anything that wasn't Stiles sitting directly in front of him. Everything about the kid was distracting, from the way his leg was shaking under the desk, to the moles on the back of his neck, to the scent wafting off him as he leaned back in his chair.

Derek smeared a hand over his face, trying to rein in his wolf, trying to tamp down the animal's reactions to the object of its affections being right there. It wasn't what he needed, not on the first day of school, not on any day of school. Yet it was happening anyway, Stiles removing his flannel overshirt and fanning his scent towards the Alpha even more.

His wolf really lost its shit at that, forcing Derek to crank his hand down around the edge of the desk, nearly splitting his pencil in two as his fingers tightened into a white knuckled fist. He focused on his breathing, inhaling that sugary sweet smell with each breath. He thought about his anchor, only to realize he didn't have it anymore.

In a somewhat risky move, he released his hold on the desk and curled his fingers into another fist, extending his claws and digging them into his palms. The pain helped to center him and cleared his head, allowing him to focus on something other than the Omega taunting him directing in front.

And with a clear head, he was more aware of everything else happening in the classroom: the gentle scrape of the chalk on the board, the low hum of the A/C unit, the rustle of papers and scratches of pencils.

The feeling of being stared at.

His eyes flicked to the redhead Stiles had been talking to, finding her completely absorbed in the lesson, nude heel hanging off the toes of a crossed leg. Surreptitiously, he peeked to his right, discovering a curvy female with big blonde curls glancing at him out the side of her black-lined eyes. Her pencil frequently found its way between her painted red lips, eraser chewed on thoughtfully as she seemed to analyze him.

Right. Because he didn't have enough to deal with in that class, he now had to add creepy possible stalker to his list of shit.

Sighing to himself, Derek slumped further in his seat, realizing his school year had just gotten even longer.

Third period Shakespearean Lit proved to be the kind of uneventful bullshit Derek needed after his Calc class, the only things standing out being the summer reading list he hadn't been given and the fact that his teacher—a guy who insisted be called just "Ennis"—looked like he belonged on a defensive line in the NFL.

Fourth period was an art class he signed up for in order to get an easy A, already having enough foreign language credits in order to graduate. Plus they didn't offer Italian like his school in New York so he figured he'd doodle for an hour or so. The redhead from his Calc class was in there, this time chatting with a brunette with pale skin and dimples straight out of a Disney princess flick. And, also like his second period, he was stared at by another student, this time by a curly haired guy with angelic features that put him in the same movie as the brunette.

Lunch was a free for all, the entire school filling the cafeteria at the same time. Derek grabbed a couple slices of pizza before making his way to an empty table, putting his backpack on the chair next to him before anyone got the idea to do some stupid like sit next to him. He managed to get through a slice before his space was invaded, the blonde from his Calc class seating herself across from him, the curly haired guy from his art class sitting down on her left, a large dark-skinned male standing on her right.

"I'm Erica," she introduced without prompting, red lips stretched to reveal perfect white teeth. "This is Isaac," she continued, pointing to the curly haired one who waved, then the giant. "And Boyd."

Derek didn't say anything, didn't respond in any way, simply bit into his pizza as he glared. He'd just wanted to eat in peace, didn't need any social interaction. It was what he'd been hoping to avoid really, preferring to just get through the school year by himself, no new friends of any sort. He'd had plenty in New York and while he hadn't really talked to them since his dad's death, he wasn't about to replace any of them. He was doing fine all alone.

A tiny part of him scoffed at that, but he ignored it, just like he ignored the hopeful thump of his wolf's tail.

Erica—as he now knew her to be—didn't seem undeterred by his lack of response, simply folding her arms over the table and leaning forward, putting an ample chest on display—not that her corseted top wasn't already doing that for her. "You're an Alpha, right?" she questioned, head tilting to the side in a move that was more inquisitive than submissive.

This time, Derek did respond, not holding back the snort that wanted out. "Good job not living up to the stereotypes surrounding your hair color," he snarked, noticing how the one named Boyd narrowed his eyes and clenched his fists in a purely protective manner. Judging by how mingled their scents were, Derek figured they were an item of some description, most likely just dating, since mates were pretty rare in high school.

The lone female didn't seem as offended by his implication, rolling her eyes like she'd heard every dumb blonde joke ever created multiple times and was frankly just bored with them. "Whatever," she muttered, flicking long curls behind her shoulder. "We need an Alpha," she stated bluntly, getting straight to the point. Chocolate eyes locked onto green ones, face all business, and Derek got the impression she was used to getting her way. "One who isn't a pissant annoying little junior." She nodded her head behind her and to the left, obviously motioning to something in that direction.

Unable to stop himself, Derek glanced over where she'd alluded to, seeing the group of juniors she'd been referring to. Scott was sitting between Stiles and the brunette from Derek's art class, dopey grin on his face. The redhead was across from Stiles, a bored looking blond male model next to her, then a tan dimpled male who was laughing at whatever ridiculous thing was coming out Stiles' mouth at that moment. The redhead reached over and put her hand over the Omega's, smiling widely, he returning the expression with a wink.

Lydia. Derek wasn't sure how he hadn't figured it out before, but that was definitely her. Although Stiles had stated he was over her and now had feelings for someone else, but that didn't mean much considering the touches and the way the two of them were huddled close over the table, heads nearly pressed together as they grinned at one another.

The Alpha glared, tearing his gaze away before his vision went red. Appetite lost, he tossed the remnants of his pizza down onto his tray, gritting his jaw once more as he focused his angry stare down at his lunch. Even if Stiles wasn't into Lydia as he claimed, he was into someone else, maybe that blond guy or the dimpled one or someone else who wasn't at their table. And even if by some miracle those feelings had been for Derek, he'd pretty much blown any chance of something happening there, had destroyed whatever crush might've been there and guaranteed it wouldn't grow into something more.

Which was what he wanted.

Really, truly had wanted.

Despite the nausea in his stomach and the tightness in his chest and the whimpers his wolf let out, it was what he'd wanted.

"Uh, Derek?"

He looked up at his name, seeing the way Erica had an eyebrow cocked in confusion, seeing how Isaac looked concerned yet afraid to say anything, seeing how Boyd just stared with still narrowed eyes that were now more analytical than angry. Clearly they noticed something was up with him, but there was no fucking way he was telling them anything, not about feelings he wasn't even admitting to himself. So instead, he spoke the first lie that came to mind.

"Just surprised you guys allow Omegas at your school," he muttered, internally grimacing at the way he sounded like a total discriminatory bastard.

Isaac really did wince, leaning back an inch or two. Boyd actually flinched, a muscle in his jaw ticking. Erica's lips twisted, mulling the Alpha's words over before deciding on her own reaction.

"It's a small town," Isaac reminded him, speaking for the first time in a low voice, almost like he wasn't sure if he was even allowed to have any input. Judging by the gentle smile and agreeing nod Erica was giving him, it wasn't anything she had done to make him feel that way. Derek found himself a little curious about the guy's home life, only to push all those thoughts aside, scrubbing at the back of his neck instead.

"We're lucky to have a lycan school at all," the curly-haired one concluded, shrugging a slender shoulder under his cardigan.

"Plus Omegas are practically non-existent here," Erica chimed in, backing up what her friend had been saying. "It would be a waste of money to give them a separate school."

Derek bobbed his eyebrows, conceding the point. Beacon Hills was nowhere near the metropolis New York was. Hell, his year alone back in the city far outnumbered the entire student body of Beacon Hills Lycanthropic High. And so far, he'd only encountered one Omega.

An Omega he was forced to sit behind in Calc because his teacher had decided they should keep the same seats the entire year.

An Omega he lived next door to and ran past his house every morning.

An Omega who was best friends with his younger brother and whose scent transferred into their home despite not having been in it for days.

An Omega who still managed to torment his mind and emotions without even being around.

"Speaking of rare," Erica interrupted his mental spiral, leaning forward across the table. Glee danced in her eyes, making the brown orbs sparkle, wicked grin on her face. She was clearly up to something and if the conspiring smirk Isaac wore was any sort of clue, Derek wasn't gonna like what was about to come out her mouth. "Back to the Alpha thing."

Yep. He was right.

Grabbing his tray and his backpack, he rose to his feet, glaring down at her and only barely managing to keep his eyes green. "Not interested," he damn near growled out before turning and stomping over to the trashcan to dump what was left of his lunch.

He caught sight of the three of them still at the table when he left the cafeteria, Erica watching him, mischievous smirk still on her face as Isaac and Boyd chatted. Clearly leaving wasn't the end of that conversation. Derek really should've known that shit wouldn't be that easy for him.

It took less than five minutes for Derek to decide he hated his Physics class.

For starters, his teacher, Mr Harris, was the kind of pompous Alpha asshole that gave the rest of them a bad reputation. He spoke like he had much better things to do and that addressing high schoolers was so far beneath him, he couldn't even begin to describe it. He turned his nose up at anyone who dared to raise their hand and demeaned those who spoke, using large multi-syllabic words Derek only knew from his SAT prep courses the year before.

But as godawful as Harris was proving to be as a person, the worst part had been when he announced that whomever you were seated beside at your respective station was your lab partner for the year.

And Isaac had sat down beside Derek before the bell had rung, smirk on his face and twinkle in his brown eyes.

Derek mentally swore at Erica, already having no doubt that she was somehow behind it. Not that she'd purposely put he and Isaac in the same class, that was clearly a stroke of luck. But having the curly-haired one specifically sit with the Alpha was definitely her doing. Chances were she'd instructed both guys she hung around to speak to Derek at every possible opportunity in the hopes of wearing him down on the whole "be our Alpha" thing.

Still wasn't gonna happen though.

After Harris had finished droning on, wrapping up his speech with a heavy sigh, Isaac fully turned to his table-mate, twirling his pen between his fingers, eyes locked onto the Alpha on his left. Derek did his best to ignore the stares, focusing on the notes he'd just taken, writing his name inside the textbook he'd been given. It would only be a matter of time before one of them cracked and broke the silence, but there was no way in hell he'd be the one to do it. Hell, he'd gone six weeks without uttering a single word to his family and he'd been around them damn near twenty-four/seven. He could handle another ten minutes with another guy staring at him like a creeper.

And, as he figured would happen, Isaac ended up speaking first, a simple utterance of "I have a question."

Fuck.

Derek hung his head, letting out a low sigh, eyes closing while he wished himself away. He felt his body tensing as he braced himself for the inevitable.

"How old are you?"

That had his head lifting, eyebrow cocked as he turned to look at the other male, wordlessly asking if he was serious.

Isaac looked dumbfounded, eyes wide, lips parted, head shaking as though he had no idea why what he'd just said was so strange or out there. "What?"

"Seriously?"

"Yeah." He dropped his pen, settling for drawing random lines on his page. "I was just curious, 'cause you seem like a fully mature werewolf, but you're still in high school."

The eyebrow stayed raised for another long moment, waiting for the bullshit to stop and the younger male to fess up that it was really just a roundabout way to inquire about the whole Alpha thing. But when Isaac stayed silent and continued to keep his curious gaze locked on him, not making any sign that he was letting anything go or that he was changing the subject to anything else.

Leaning back in his seat, Derek tapped the end of his pencil against his notebook repeatedly, staring down at the paper as he spoke flatly. "The school system back in New York required that all new kindergarteners be five by mid-October. My birthday is the end of December, so I had to start a year late, making me currently eighteen and still in school."

Isaac nodded, taking the new info in, before tilting his head in curiosity, frowning. "So you can be our Alpha." Statement, not a question, and the older man really should've known that was coming.

Wait. He kinda did know.

"Yeah, I can be," Derek admitted, gathering his things as the bell rang and shoving them into his backpack. "But I'm not going to be." Effectively ending that convo a second time, he got up and left Isaac behind, ignoring the whimpers from his wolf and the belief that the subject still wasn't fully dropped and that the discussion was gonna be brought up again later.

Whatever. He'd deal with that shit when it would happen—and it would definitely happen again. But for the time being, he was gonna concentrate on his next class, his second Lit course of the day.

The room was already half full by the time he got there, but he barely noticed anyone's faces or any details about anything. Hard to when his wolf was clawing at him and howling its head off, when his entire world had zeroed down to one thing.

That fucking scent.

With deliberate steps, he headed to the corner on the same side as the door, dropping into a free chair and forcing himself to stare straight ahead.

He failed.

At the opposite corner was Scott, turned around and chatting with the brunette from Derek's art class. And if the younger Alpha's dopey grin was anything to go by, the girl was clearly Allison, Disney dimples on display at something he said, hand coyly running through long brown curls.

Derek kinda felt like puking. He had half a second of freaking out over whether or not he and Kate had been that sickening, only to realize there was nothing about her that had been coy or demure. Not only that, but there was no way he'd ever felt that dopey over any person he'd been in a relationship with, not even with his first love Paige.

Leave it to someone as oblivious and out of touch as Scott to behave that way over a crush.

Flicking his eyes away, he stared at the front of the classroom, watching the slender brunette teacher write her name on the chalkboard—Miss Blake—feeling that same earlier sensation of being watched. Unable to help it, his eyes switched back over to Scott and Allison, only this time, he ignored the lovey-dovey antics of the pseudo-couple. Instead, his gaze was drawn to Stiles as he sat on Scott's left, pen between his teeth, leg shaking up and down, eyes staring right back at Derek.

Shit.

Derek tore his eyes away immediately, facing the front. He felt the tips of his ears heat up at being caught staring, felt his heart pounding—although he wasn't sure if it was from adrenaline at being busted or from seeing Stiles again. His wolf was whimpering, scratching at him, clearly demanding Derek walk over and sit with the Omega, especially now that they'd been noticed. For his wolf, Stiles staring at him was a clear sign that he wanted the Alpha to join him so they can be together and happy and all can be right with the world.

Yeah right.

The bell rang, Miss Blake calling for everyone's attention, and Derek settled in to focus, spending the entire period ignoring Stiles and his staring.

His last class of the day was PE, and while Derek would've much rather had weightlifting like back in New York, it was only available to those actually on a school team. And since Derek was done with sports completely, he was stuck in Phys Ed.

Coach Finstock was loud and abrasive and everything his old coaches back east had been and Derek immediately respected the fuck outta the guy, despite the fact that he had it in for some kid named Greenberg. There was a brief moment where shit hit the fan when Finstock had paused during roll call to ask if Derek was the nationally ranked lacrosse player Derek McHale, blue eyes gleaming in wicked delight, grin practically manic in its appearance. Derek had told him not anymore, cutting off any objections by questioning if he achieved that spiky hair look by sticking a fork in the toaster or a socket. Finstock just stared before moving on down the list of student names.

Boyd had been in the class with him, but had remained the same silent stoic giant he'd been during lunch. Derek decided he liked the guy for that alone, although that didn't mean he actually wanted to get to know the guy or befriend him.

After class, Derek showered and changed quickly, ending up being the first person to leave the locker room. But unfortunately for him, he wasn't the first to leave the school, finding two uninvited nuisances by his Camaro.

Erica wore her usual up-to-no-good smirk as she sat on the hood of the sports car, ankles crossed, hands resting behind her. She looked like a pin-up and if Derek were in more of a social mood—and if her scent didn't carry such a strong undercurrent of Boyd—he'd actually enjoy the image. But instead, he just found it aggravating, especially when accompanied by the visual of Isaac leaning against the front bumper, smirk of his own on his face, arms folded over his chest.

Derek kinda wanted to smack their light haired heads together and hope they finally got the memo.

Sighing harshly, he scuffed his way over, pausing before them, arms crossed and eyes narrowed. "What are you doing?"

"Waiting for you," Erica answered, shrugging a shoulder, saccharine smile on her face. She looked the picture of innocence, batting long lashes at him, and if it hadn't been for their earlier convo during lunch, he honestly wouldn't have thought she had any other ulterior motives.

Too bad for her he knew better.

He cocked an eyebrow momentarily, features flat in order to show just how completely unamused he was by her act. "How'd you find my car?"

"We scented it."

The eyebrow went back up, this time to stay. He wasn't sure if he believed her or not, but it still seemed somewhat far-fetched that the two of them had gone around the lot sniffing cars or had trailed after his scent through the entire school before he made it out of PE.

Isaac sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he hung his head, only to tilt it to the left in submission. "It was the only car in the lot we didn't recognize and we figured it was probably yours."

Erica slapped his chest, glaring as she let out a small growl. "Don't make us look incompetent in front of our potential Alpha."

The Alpha in question let out a harsh sigh of his own, pinching the bridge of his nose to stave off a headache. Honestly at that point, he would much rather be forced into another uncomfortable dinner with Melissa and John, complete with Maria trash talking werewolves, Scott making goo-goo eyes at Allison, and Stiles...well, Stiles just being there and having that scent. All that would be much better than dealing with Blondie and Curly loitering on his car and demanding something he didn't wanna give.

"I'm not being your Alpha," he stated calmly and succinctly, trying to keep his breaths even and not lose his shit in the parking lot of his new high school on day one.

A noise of protest left Erica, she sliding down the hood of his Camaro as she scooted closer. Her scent was colored with desperation and upset and he could just tell she was pouting without having to see it. "You won't even listen to our proposal? Or give us a shot of any kind?"

"No," he grunted, dropping his hand to level the full force of his glare on her. "I'm not being anyone's Alpha. Ever."

Red lips twisted angrily, black shadowed eyes narrowing, arms folded under an ample chest with a huff. Definitely pouting. "So you're going against every instinct you have and are seriously gonna do the lone wolf thing?"

Fucking finally! It was getting through her head and not a moment too soon. "Yes." He crossed his arms over his own chest, still glaring, switching the angry stare back and forth between the twosome on his Camaro. "Now get off my car before I rip your throats out. With my teeth."

The threat worked, both of them quickly jumping out the way and scampering off to the side. Derek resumed his now usual habit of ignoring their stares as he got behind the wheel, backpack on the passenger seat, immediately starting the engine.

One down. Hundred seventy-nine to go.

And if they all went down the way that one did, he wasn't entirely sure he'd make it to graduation.