"You ready?" Scott asked as I began to descend the stairs, dressed in a pair of shorts and a tank top, pulling Scott's lacrosse sweatshirt over my head. It was a wonder how I didn't trip and fall down the stairs considering I couldn't see where I was going for half of my descent.
"Yep," I said as I managed to get my head through the hole in the top, thinking that I probably looked like Ace Ventura when he had to make an emergency exit out of the back of a mechanical rhino: elegant as ever. I reached the bottom of the stairs and practically skipped to the doorway where Scott was. I was so happy to get out of the house, and technically it could be considered a date night for Scott and I, even though Allison, Isaac, Stiles, and Lydia would be there with us.
Scott and I laced our fingers together upon being within arm's reach of each other, an involuntary reflex. I mean, I didn't mean to do it most of the time, it just happened on its own. I grinned at him and we filed through the doorway out to the driveway, where my old blue truck was still sitting there, unfixed. It was probably better to just scrap it, but I was too attached to send it to the scrap yard and too broke to send it to the mechanic's. As soon as I saved up enough money to take it to a garage and figure out what the hell was wrong with it, I would, but I didn't see that happening anytime in the near future.
"You know," Scott said all of a sudden, taking my other hand and intertwining those fingers with his, turning around so he back was facing the doorway back into the house. "I think I might want to just stay in. Keep you to myself." He began to attempt at dragging me back into the house, but I wasn't having any of that.
"Nope, we are definitely going bowling," I said, dragging him back down the driveway to his bike, "even if it kills me. Even if it kills you. Even if it kills half of Beacon Hills, we are going bowling."
.
"Scott, why didn't you tell me you were bad at bowling?" I asked as we walked across the parking lot to the bowling alley. I spotted Stiles' jeep and Lydia's car as we had arrived, so I knew that everyone else was already here, probably waiting for us so we could start out first game.
"Because it didn't seem important then! And I mean, I can't get any worse at it, can I?"
"Well, we'll find out soon enough. And just a warning, if you only get one whole strike the whole time I am going to call you One-Bowl Wonder for the rest of the night."
"One-Bowl Wonder?" Scott asked, pulling the door open.
"Yes, One-Bowl Wonder. When I used to go bowling with my parents, my dad was always the One-Bowl Wonder; he could only get one strike whenever we were bowling, no matter how hard he tried." I smiled at the thought, thinking of my mom out-bowling my dad every game (she had been in a bowling league, so you couldn't blame her), and sometimes even I would, even without lane bumpers.
"You never talk about your dad," Scott said softly.
"Um," I said, suddenly looking down at my feet. "He died when I was six. He had the same lung thing I did, only it took longer for it to affect him."
"Oh. I'm sorry."
"It's okay, he -"
"SCOTTY AND NATTLES ARE HERE!" Stiles yelled, cutting me off. He was a few rows down and I saw Isaac and Allison talking, Lydia looking for a bowling ball. Their heads all looked in our direction before going back to what they were doing, Stiles hopping off his chair and running across the alley to meet us at the doorway, tripping over a chair and running into someone on his way.
"We can talk about it later," I mumbled to Scott, Stiles finally making it over to us. "Nattles?" I asked Stiles, arching an eyebrow.
"Yeah, Nattles. I couldn't just call you Nat, that would be boring," Stiles scoffed. "Okay, since you two are here now, we can start. We ordered some pizza, so that should hold us over for a while. Any drink preferences for the pitchers?"
We both just shrugged, Scott saying, "just get whatever."
"Okay, great, that totally helps," Stiles said, producing two sarcastic thumbs-ups.
"While you decide on what drinks to get, we're going to get shoes," I said, dragging Scott over to a counter that was decorated with pins and bowling balls, a girl in her early-twenties standing behind the counter.
"Sizes?" the girl asked when.
"Nine and..?" Scott said, glancing over at me.
"Seven and a half," I finished. The girl nodded and looked around behind and below her, pulling shoes our sizes from their cubbyholes on the wall behind her and under the counter, placing them on the counter in front of us. "Thank you," I said, grabbing my shoes and Scott grabbing his. We walked further into the building to the alleys that whoever had arrived first had claimed for us, sitting down at a table to take off our shoes and put the ones we had received on. After our feet were suited up in some very decorative red and blue shoes, we joined the rest of the gang (excluding Stiles, who was ordering us beverage pitchers) on the lower level of the bowling alley. Hugs and jokes were exchanged, many of them consisting of the rumor of me having mono going around the school. Stiles joined us a few minutes later, setting down two pitchers, one filled with a dark brown liquid and the other an electric green.
"I hope you guys don't mind Pepsi and Mountain Dew," Stiles said, trotting down the stairs to join us. "Now that everyone's here, how are we going to do this? Teams, a free-for-all? Five against one? Humans against werewolves?"
"How about doing guys versus girls?" Lydia asked, hands hovering above the key pad that was situated in between the two lanes we were occupying.
"Oh, definitely," I said, grinning and Allison nodded. Before any of the guys could protest Lydia began entering our names, girls on the left lane, boys on the right.
"O-ho-ho," Stiles said, "the game is on."
.
Seven strikes later, the girls were in the lead. Stiles had given up, telling Isaac and Scott to bowl for him while he ate away his body weight in terrible bowling alley pizza.
"Let me help you," Scott said, stepping behind me and snaking his arm around my waist.
"No, nope, you are terrible at bowling and this is most definitely an attempt at sabotage," I said, swivelling my head to look at Scott, then over his shoulder at Stiles, who unsuccessfully tried to duck his head down behind the giant plastic couch (that really look like you had just melted them all together at the sides) that sat a few feet from the end of the lanes. I glanced back at Scott. "He knows I can hear him right?"
"I think he forgets sometimes," Scott said, face crinkling in the most adorable way possible.
"Well, since we're ahead by so far, I guess one terrible bowl won't throw us off by much."
We hobbled up to the line together. He stood to the left of my so I wouldn't hit him with the bowling ball, but kept his hand over mine. I gently pulled my hand back and threw it down the lane, careful not to put all of my possible strength in it; I didn't need to go breaking things. The electric pink bowling ball rolled down the middle of the lane, making contact with the first pin and causing a domino effect with all of the other except one. I turned around and grinned at Scott.
"Hey Scott!" Stiles shouted and we both looked at him, "you're like the worst at sabotage. Ever."
.
"Be right back," I said, pushing myself up from the plastic couch where I was situated between Scott and Lydia, watching Isaac bowl for Stiles.
"Woah, woah, woah, where are you going?" Scott asked, getting ready to stand up.
"The bathroom," I said, like it was obvious. "I'm pretty sure I've downed a whole pitcher of Pepsi just by myself." I went to take a step away but he stood up, blocking my path.
"Being someone with you." He looked over to Allison, who pointed to the lane.
"I'm up," she said, getting up and high-fiving Isaac for getting a strike as she walked over to pick up the bowling ball she had chosen. Scott shifted his gaze from Allison to Lydia, who was about to speak before I talked over her.
"Hey, you. already made sure that none of his pack was here; you did that when we walked in. I would literally feel you scanning the place. Am I wrong?"
"No..."
"And did you smell anyone?"
"No, I didn't, but -"
"There's the ever-slim chance that one of them might be here. Go ahead, check again. My bladder can wait." He sighed and I saw him turn on his alpha-vision, scanning across the room and breathing in deeply. He looked back at me, turning off his high beams. "Anything?"
"No."
"So the coast is clear. I'll be right back, promise," I said, placing a kiss on Scott's lips before I hopped up the stairs and walked in the direction of he bathroom.
When I entered it I found it surprisingly clean; you think bowling alley bathrooms would be at least a little bit grimy. There were even little soaps in the shape of bowling balls and pins. Well, deformed little bowling balls and pins, since people had used them. They were classy, nonetheless. I went into an open stall and did my business, feeling relieved afterwards. After I flushed I went to unlock my stall, but it didn't budge. Stupid sticky lock. I cranked up my strength just a little to get it open, which worked to get it unlocked. Ahh, the perks of being a werewolf; not having to crawl out under the stall door because you couldn't get it open. I swung the door open and turned my head back to see if any toilet paper had gotten stuck to my shoe. You'd be surprised how many times I'd actually had that happen to me. When I turned my head back, something covered my mouth and nose and an arm wrapped around my chest. I panicked, claws and fangs shooting out on their own.
I tried to suck in a breath and I knew in an instant that that was a mistake. One breath in and my mind felt a little hazy. Shit, shit, shit. Okay, this person had a cloth or something over my mouth. Uh, what was the thing kidnappers always used? Think, Natalie, think. Chloroform. I was being chloroformed. Shit. Okay, don't breathe. The more you breathe the more you get into your system. So I held my breath, all whole trying to fight back against this person. I pushed myself back, trying to launch the person into the sinks. They were low enough to cause lower back damage if hit hard enough. But we didn't go as far as I thought we would, and my brain was screaming for oxygen. But I couldn't breathe. I couldn't breathe because my life depended on it.
I tried so hard not to breathe but my willpower gave out and I sucked in a breath, my mind starting to feel fuzzy and my vision becoming blurry at the edge. Shit. Well, this was it. If I was going to be kidnapped, I might as well put up a fight. I began scratching at the person's arm, trying to get them to let go of me. If I could get them off of me and at least make it to the door, I'd be safe. But this person wasn't giving up, and my scratch wasn't nearly as deep enough as I wanted it to be.
Another breath, and my vision was totally blurry and I felt like my entire body was numb. Another scratch, completely useless. My body was now completely doing whatever the hell it wanted, breathing like a normal person and not listening to what my brain was telling it to do. I still tried to fight though, but I probably looked like a drunk person picking a fight with a lamppost.
"Don't fight it..." a voice said, sounding very far away. I blinked, and things were starting to go dark. Shit, shit, shit. "...just breathe."
Shit.
TO BE CONTINUED...
A/N: All I have to say is sorry not sorry.
There will be a sequel, called Hold Your Breath (which in a few days - a week at most - to give everyone time to think about what just happened and complain about how they want to read what happens next already).
To be clear, my original intention for this fanfiction was to do a two-parter, with a cliffhanger ending in the first part, since about One Big Mean Girls Reference (I had trouble deciding where exactly to split it, but I firmly decided around that chapter). It was also where I officially decided that Mason was going to be the big bad of this story, the douche.
So was this ending cliffhanger-y enough for you? Hopefully.