word count: 10,660
polyvore: username is 'sarcasticfina' - check under Collections for one named after this story to see all of Malia's fashion choices
episodes: 1x02 - second chance at first line | 1x03 - pack mentality

VIII

After getting changed at her place, Malia caught a ride over to Danny's to help him set up. He had a few friends out picking up more alcohol than seemed necessary, but seeing as this was only her second party, she could hardly judge. Ahead of time, she'd helped him put away anything valuable, lock doors to any room he wanted people to stay out of, and moved the furniture around for better lounging. A few tables were set up with drinks and snacks and one, in particular, for beer pong. The music was Danny's favorite; he spent a good hour going over what constituted a party playlist, adding and removing songs based on what kind of mood he wanted to set.

"You do this every time?"

He nodded. "Adds a personal touch."

"Sure." She nodded. "Something to jam to when you're vomiting in the bushes."

"Maybe at the neighbors. Nobody pukes in my mom's prize-winning roses. Heads will roll."

"I'm not sure drunk people have much concept of 'aim.'"

He grinned. "You'd be surprised."

Shaking her head, she muttered, "The neighbors must hate you."

"They do, but it's probably the gay thing and the vomit is just a side benefit."

Frowning, she looked back at him from her seat lounging in an arm chair that was so ridiculously comfortable, she could almost take a nap. "Seriously?"

He grimaced. "Most people are fine with it. Coach Finstock brings it up a lot. I think it's his way of supporting me, but it has a bit of an othering effect."

"I get that." She nodded. "But the neighbors? What's their problem?"

"Ignorance, mostly." He shrugged. "It happens. You can't please everyone."

"You shouldn't have to." Brow furrowed, she turned in her seat and laid her legs over one of the arms. "Are your parents cool about it?"

Danny leaned back and stacked his hands atop his head. "My mom cried a lot when she found out. I'm her only son and I guess she had an idea of how things would go. My dad, though… He was really good about it."

"Yeah?"

He smiled. "Yeah, he keeps trying to set me up with his boss's son. He's pretty cute, actually."

"So, why not go for it?"

"I don't know. It'd be weird, don't you think?" He frowned. "My dad basically picking my boyfriend."

"He didn't pick him, he just created an opportunity. If you guys click, cool. If not, then at least you know."

"I guess." He shrugged. "What about you?"

She fiddled with her necklace, pressing her thumb against the intricate metal until it left an imprint behind. "What about me?"

"Is there anyone you like besides McCall?"

She scrunched her nose up. "No. I like to think I avoid crushes. I've built up an immunity to them."

"Except for Scott?"

She sighed. "I mean, I've liked other people before." Begrudgingly. "But, Scott was different… Maybe it was because we were friends first. I don't know. It just felt more… intense."

Danny hummed. "He seems pretty into Allison."

"Yeah, well, I wasn't holding my breath… Or I didn't mean to, anyway. And now I'm definitely not."

He stared at her a long beat, brow furrowed. "I could introduce you to someone if you're interested. There are a few guys on the team that aren't complete jackasses."

"Thank you, but I think I'll just wing it. I'm mostly here to unwind anyway. I'm not looking to find someone."

Danny shrugged. "If you change your mind…"

"I'll find you."

…

The party was loud. An hour into it and Malia was kind of regretting not shadowing Danny. Without Scott or Stiles or even Allison there to act as a buffer, she felt a little like she'd been tossed into the deep end of the pool and suddenly forgot how to swim. She recognized people, but not enough to go out of her way to talk to them. Malia didn't hate socializing, she just wasn't sure she was very good at it.

Lingering by the drinks table, she grabbed up a can of beer and walked around aimlessly, tapping her finger against the lid and awkwardly casting her gaze around for anyone just as lonely and uncomfortable as she was. Someone bumped into her from behind, sending her stumbling forward, and she glared over her shoulder. "Watch it, Greenberg."

With a goofy grin, Greenberg nodded at her, tucking his shaggy blond hair behinds his ears. "Sorry, Tate. My bad."

"It's fine," she muttered.

Saluting her, he walked off to join a few of his lacrosse buddies, only to bump a pyramid of red cups as he went. As it teetered and fell, a chorus of angry voices shouted, "Greenberg!"

Rolling her eyes, Malia turned around, wondering if Danny was anywhere nearby. Last she saw of him, he was dancing with a cute boy she didn't recognize.

"What are you doing here?"

With a sigh, Malia looked to her left, where Lydia stood, eyeing her. "Danny invited me."

Lydia scoffed. "Really?"

"Yeah, really." Malia raised an eyebrow. "What's with the face, Lydia? Shouldn't you be over the moon? The team won, even if it wasn't Jackson who got us there."

Lydia pursed her lips. "Jackson scored the first three goals all by himself."

"Yeah, well, if he'd learn to share the ball maybe the rest of the team could enjoy a taste of that, too."

"Winners don't share."

"No, of course not, they just take cortisone shots before big games. Because that's never seriously debilitated anyone's career..."

Lydia's eyes widened in surprise, but before she could snap back, a flash caught their attention.

Frowning, Malia looked to her right to find a boy with a camera, half-smiling at them. "Yearbook," he said.

"Erase that," Lydia demanded, taking a threatening step toward him. "The last thing I want is myself immortalized in a yearbook talking to her." With that, Lydia flipped her hair over her shoulder and marched away.

Malia rolled her eyes before looking back at the boy. "I'm pretty sure you'd get a few people in some serious shit if you were taking pictures of underage drinking and putting them in the yearbook."

He snorted. "You'd be right… You might call this more of a personal project. Sort of a time capsule. So, don't worry, you and Lydia Martin won't be immortalized in anything."

"Good." She tucked her hands in her pockets. "Does Danny know you're taking pictures?"

"Danny doesn't mind. Nobody else even seems to notice. That's kind of what happens when you're the photographer; you exist on the fringes."

Having spent most of the night feeling like she was doing exactly that, Malia nodded. "I know the feeling."

He juggled his camera into one hand and held the other out to her. "I'm Matt."

Malia took his hand and gave it a quick shake, reminded of when her dad introduced her to his coworkers. "Malia."

"You're a sophomore, right?"

"Yeah. You?"

"Same." He nodded. "Danny invited everybody from our photography club, but I think I'm the only one that showed…"

"There's a photography club?"

He shrugged. "Not all of us can be track stars."

Malia cocked her head, brow furrowed, but then Matt was looking at someone over her shoulder.

"Sorry, I see someone I know. But, it was nice talking to you." As he walked past her, Malia watched him go. He pivoted on his heel and snapped another picture of her, smiling before he left.

Weird.

"Malia!"

She turned to see Danny waving her over, a ping pong ball in hand and a long table with ten red cups and one blue cup at either end. She smirked at the challenge and cut toward him.

"You're on my side." He motioned to the other end of table, where Jackson and Bodhi stood.

"Seriously, you wanna play with her?" Jackson snorted. "She's gonna tap out after two beers."

"Keep talking, Jackson." She crossed her arms. "Maybe all that hot air will help carry the ball to this end of the table."

He smirked and shook his head. "You're on, Tate."

Danny held the ping pong ball out to her. "You want first?"

"Sure." Malia eyed the cups at the end, weighed the ball in her hand, and then flicked her wrist to give her an idea of how well it would throw.

Jackson stared, brows raised impatiently. "You wanna test the direction the wind is going, too?"

Malia ignored him and let the ball sail. It landed perfectly inside the topmost cup of the pyramid.

With a sigh, Jackson picked it up, and raised it at her in cheers.

Malia smirked; she knew she'd be good at this.

…

Okay, so she was good at beer pong, but so was Jackson. For the record, she won, it was just very close. Which meant Malia was pleasantly buzzed and had traded in the beer pong table for the dance floor. She'd started out dancing with Danny, but he'd been stolen away by the cute boy from earlier, leaving Malia on her own. She didn't mind. She'd left her leather jacket on a chair somewhere and was happy to close her eyes and lose herself in the beat, arms stretched above her head. The longer the party went on, the drunker people became. There were more than a few passed out, or on their way there, and those that weren't were just as buzzed as she was.

Jackson and Lydia were sloppily making out in a corner. She was pretty sure Matt had taken off at some point; she hadn't seen him since earlier. Greenberg was asleep in an arm chair with a bunch of dicks drawn on his face. Bodhi was hitting on two girls at the same time— girls Malia was pretty sure were together so he wasn't having much luck.

A layer of sweat covered Malia's skin when she finally left the dance floor in search of something to drink. Pushing through the swinging door of the kitchen, she bee-lined for the sink and filled a glass with water, leaning against the counter as she chugged it. For a moment, she just closed her eyes and tried to calm down. The music from the other room was muted now, muffled and distant.

"I don't think I know you."

Opening her eyes, she looked to the doorway, where a boy stood, smiling at her curiously.

"That makes two of us." Wiping at her mouth with her wrist, she put the glass in the sink.

"You know Danny?"

"This is his house, isn't it?" An open bag of Doritos called her name and Malia grabbed out a handful, popping one in her mouth.

"I saw you at the game tonight…" The boy nodded. "You're friends with McCall, right?"

She eyed him curiously. "Yeah. So?"

"He played a good game." He wandered closer, reaching over to steal a chip from her hand, grinning as she frowned. "I prefer basketball, but school pride and all that…"

Malia snorted. "My school pride goes about as far as I can throw it."

He ducked his head as he chuckled, his hair falling into his eyes. He was handsome, with high cheekbones and hazel eyes, an athletic build, and something tempting about the tilt of his mouth. "I like you."

She rolled her eyes. "You don't even know me."

"But I want to." He searched her face. "Twenty minutes. We talk, that's it. If you totally hate me, I'll walk away, never talk to you again."

"And if I don't?"

He shrugged. "Let's find out."

Malia took a deep breath and let it out on a sigh. "What's your name?"

"Cole. I'm a senior. I'm guessing you're a sophomore…?"

She nodded. "Malia."

"Malia," he repeated. "Okay."

"Well, Cole, what do you want to talk about for the next nineteen minutes?"

He hopped up onto the counter and rested his back against a cupboard, hands dangling between his legs. "You come to a lot of these parties?"

"No." She shook her head. "Parties aren't really my thing. But, Danny asked and I was having a shitty night, so…"

"Why?"

She stared up at him. "It's complicated."

"Most things are."

"Yeah, but this is a whole new level of complicated…" The guy seemed nice enough, but she wasn't about to tell him how strange her life had become these last few weeks. He was a complete stranger. Picking at her chips, she said, "Anyway, Danny asked me to come and I wanted to blow off some steam."

"You feel any better?"

She took a moment to answer, considering the last few hours. It hadn't started off great; she'd been awkward and unsure and had no idea who to talk to. Slowly, however, she'd found her footing. Beer pong with Jackson hadn't been the worst. Dancing had helped lighten the weight of everything. And now… Well, at the very least, Cole was nice to look at. "It hasn't really changed anything, but I feel better, yeah."

"Temporary fix then?"

"I guess." She finished her chips and dusted off her hands. The orange residue still clung to her skin so she turned to the sink, washing them under shockingly cold water. "What about you? Are you a regular at these things?"

"Since I was a freshman…" He nodded. "Doesn't feel as temporary if you're doing it every weekend."

Malia's brow furrowed. "What about the five days in between?"

Cole half-smiled. "You find ways to cope, I guess."

"School or family?"

"Little of both." He shrugged. "Basketball helps. Gives me something to do after school, something to focus on."

She nodded. "I run track."

"Yeah?" He grinned. "Maybe I'll come cheer you on someday."

She raised an eyebrow. "Who says we'll ever talk again?"

"A guy can hope."

Malia shook her head, a reluctant smile pulling at her mouth. "You've still got fifteen minutes, give or take."

He hummed and then hopped off the counter. "I propose a change of scenery."

Her eyes narrowed. "To…?"

"Out there." He nodded his head toward the door. "I like this song."

Her brows hiked. "You want to dance…?"

"If you do."

She considered it and then nodded. "Okay. Sure."

Malia followed him out of the kitchen and through the house. The farther they walked, the louder the music was, until they'd reached the center of it all. It was loud enough here that it blotted everything else out.

When they started dancing, there was a comfortable amount of distance between them. It was fun and friendly but nothing serious. As the music went on, though, they moved closer together. His hands found her hips and hers landed on his shoulders. She told herself this wasn't some kind of 'revenge' against Scott. But a part of her wondered if that was the root of her motivation. The closer she got to Cole, a relative unknown, the farther she could be from Scott and the feelings that wouldn't let up.

She closed her eyes and rocked into the beat, letting her body swim along with the tune. Stretching a hand back, she pulled her hair to one side and hung it across her shoulder. Cole's fingers brushed the bare half of her neck and her eyes opened, searching his out. She was attracted to him, that was easy enough to admit. It wasn't serious. He seemed nice enough, had a few problems of his own, but probably nothing on the level of werewolves. He was just a hot guy looking for someone to hang out with at a party. And Malia… She was tired of missing someone even when he was right next to her. It was like Danny said, and Melissa too, she couldn't force herself not to care, but she could find ways to distant herself from her feelings.

Malia initiated the kiss. She leaned forward and slanted her mouth over Cole's, her hand tucked behind his neck. He had nice lips, soft and warm. And he wasn't sloppy or handsy or aggressive. He took his time, teeth lightly scraping over her mouth, his hand leaving her hip to slide around to the small of her back, drawing her forward. They met, chest to chest, and she let herself fall into it. In a fog of heat and want and have, she pushed everything else away. There was just his fingers stroking down her shoulder and his mouth leaving hers to trail along her jaw. It had a dizzying effect. Her head tilted back and her teeth dug into her bottom lip. Their hips rocked together along with the music, circling and swaying. His teeth scraped against her neck, followed by his tongue, and Malia was glad for how loud the music was, since it swept away the groan she made. She could feel him smiling though, proud of himself.

Vaguely, she wondered if this was what Scott felt, or if it was deeper than this. It had to be, didn't it? He had real feelings for Allison. It was probably tender and sweet and hopeful, his heart pounding a little too hard in his chest. She could just imagine the gooey, lovestruck look on his face when they broke apart. Malia's fingers tangled in Cole's hair, pulling him back so she could catch his mouth again, a little harder this time, searching for something. Release or distraction or healing.

His hand swept up her back, the fabric of her shirt rising at the motion. They stumbled a little and broke apart, laughing. He grinned at her, his eyes a little glazed.

"You like me yet?"

She shook her head, but she was smiling. "You're growing on me."

"I can work with that."

They moved again, until her back was against a wall. It was cool against her bare shoulders, a nice contrast to her warm skin.

Cole reached up, tucking a strand of hair away from her face and letting his knuckles trail over her cheek. As his fingers fell lower, they traced the length of her necklace, pausing at the dipped neckline of her top. "How much time do I have left?"

He'd more than used up the original twenty during the time they'd danced. But she didn't feel like walking away, so she told him, "I lost track. I guess we'll have to start over."

A slow smile upturned his mouth and Malia matched it.

…

It was almost two in the morning and Malia was sitting on the diving board overlooking Danny's pool, staring up at a starry sky.

She and Cole had parted ways an hour ago; he had her phone number if he ever felt like 'talking' again. It was a Band-Aid on a still bleeding wound, she knew, but it felt good.

"Hey."

Malia turned her head to find Danny standing nearby. "Hey."

He walked closer. "Having fun?"

She shrugged. "It wasn't the worst."

He half-grinned teasingly. "Pretty sure Cole James is gonna say it was one of the best nights of his life."

Snorting, she rolled her eyes. "He'll forget my name by Monday."

"Yeah, I doubt that…" Danny tucked his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "So, you socialized and the world didn't end. That's a good sign."

"Is that your subtle way of saying I should come to more of your parties?"

"Only if you want to… It looked like you were having fun, though. Eventually."

"It wasn't the worst experience of my life." Leaning back, she tucked her feet under her and stood, making her way down the diving board. He held a hand out to help her down and she took it. As she landed on the dry pavement, he lifted her hand and twirled her. Malia laughed as she swung under his arm. "You might have a point, about getting out and experiencing life a little more. I'm not saying I'll come to every party, but I'll try to hang out more. Meet new people… Kiss a few boys. See what happens."

"Good." He nodded. "On that note, it's late. I've had a few drinks so I'm not super comfortable with driving you home. But I have a spare room, if you wanna stay over."

Malia shook her head. "Thanks, but I can walk."

He frowned. "Are you sure? You're not exactly close."

"I'll be fine." They made their way inside the house and her brows hiked at the mess. "You have a maid or something, right?" If the neighborhood was anything to go by, Danny's parents were like Lydia's— loaded.

"I hire a service, it's fine." He waved a dismissive hand and led her toward the front door. There were a few people still passed out on various pieces of furniture, including one curled up in the foetal position on top of the coffee table. "They usually wake up in the middle of the night and wander home. If not, I kick them out in the morning."

"As long as you have a routine…" Malia stepped out onto the front steps and pivoted to face him. "Thanks for inviting me… I needed it."

Danny nodded. "Thanks for coming. And hey… text me when you get home."

"I will." Turning on her heel, she walked down the stairs to the driveway below. Malia heard the door click closed behind her and dug her phone out of the pocket of her jacket to find a litter of missed calls and a bunch of texts from Stiles.

—'hey, where'd you go? i was supposed to give you a ride home…'

—'scott said he saw you hanging out with danny. i'm gonna try not to take that personally and chalk it up to emotional distress over the whole scott and allison… thing.'

—'can you just call me so i know you're okay?'

—'okay i'm trying really hard to trust that you aren't dead in a ditch somewhere and you're just upset. i meant what i said before though. if you ever want to talk or anything…'

—'look I kinda wanted to mention this to you in person but since you're not picking up and it's serious i'm just gonna tell you… my dad heard back from the medical examiner and they looked at the other half of the body. they determined the killer was an animal, NOT human. since derek's human, as far as they know anyway, they let him out of jail! And that's not the best part! worst part? anyway, they know who the girl is!'

For drama's sake, if nothing else, he added the name in a separate text.

—'laura hale. it's derek's sister!'

Malia's chest squeezed. She stumbled to a stop and stared so hard at the words they blurred before her eyes. Then she read Stiles' last and most recent text.

—'just be careful, okay? he's out and he's probably pissed at us.'

When Malia looked up, it was to find Derek standing at the end of the driveway, leaning against his Camaro, hands tucked in the pockets of his leather jacket. She wasn't even surprised. It was just her luck. He pushed off the car, opened the passenger door, and then looked at her expectantly. As he circled around to the driver's side, Malia crossed the last of the driveway and shook her head. Maybe she wasn't as sober as she thought she was.

Climbing into the car, she pulled the door closed on her fate and turned to face him.

Derek turned the ignition and pulled away from the driveway aggressively, wheels squealing before they were darting forward enough that she was jarred in her seat.

"You don't look surprised to see me," he said.

Malia rested her head against the seat and turned her gaze in his direction. "Maybe I'm getting used to this lurking thing you do."

"Or maybe your friend Stiles used his ties to the Sheriff's department to find out I'd been released."

"It's a toss up."

Derek sighed through his nose, his mouth pursed. "Scott played."

"Yup."

"And he shifted."

Malia hesitated, before saying, "You'll notice nobody died though…"

He turned a look on her that made her feel like a child that had been reprimanded. It was strange just how much he could pack into a stare. "Just because he handled it this time doesn't mean he always will."

"He's working on it. If he focuses on his friends and his family, he can keep from losing himself completely… Mostly…" She crossed her arms. "Does he remember anything when he's shifted? I mean, do you?"

"I don't shift unless I want to shift." He turned narrowed eyes back to the road. "And he might remember bits and pieces, but not everything… Not until he has it under control."

Malia hummed thoughtfully.

"What were you doing at that party tonight?"

She frowned. "I'm sorry, dad, am I supposed to give up any and all fun just because my best friend has a furry problem?"

"That's not what I meant…" His hands flexed on the steering wheel. "I can smell things. We call them chemosignals. They're chemical signals that communicate emotion. Just our sweat can give off anger, anxiety, fear— they all have a distinct smell. You were worried at the game, but it changed later. Something happened in the school. Something that made you sad… and hurt."

"You can smell pain?"

"Yes. But, what you were feeling was different."

Malia stared at the side of his face. "Are you saying 'heartache' has a smell...?" Could Scott smell these things? Could he smell her feelings for him and he was just being polite? Or maybe he could but didn't know what it was he was smelling… She was really hoping for the latter.

Derek grimaced, as if it pained him to discuss the topic at all.

"You brought it up," she sniped.

"I know. I just… can't believe I'm having this conversation right now." He glowered. "Heartache has a smell. So does attraction and desire and… love. But if you're worried Scott can smell it, you shouldn't be. He doesn't know enough about what's happening to him to figure it out."

She let out a breath of relief, but paused. "But he will?"

"Yeah, eventually. Once he starts paying real attention to it." He shook his head. "He can't keep avoiding what's happening and neither can you. Scott is a werewolf, nothing is going to change that. Not pretending it isn't real and not sending me to jail."

Malia winced. "Stiles said it was your sister… I'm sorry."

"Sorry you had me arrested for it or sorry she's dead?"

"Mostly sorry she's dead." She shrugged. "People don't usually bury their siblings in the backyard. And also, she was a wolf. I have a lot of questions about that."

"You think I owe you answers?" His voice raised incredulously. "After everything you guys did?"

Malia rolled her eyes. "Okay, I get that you're pissed, but try to look at this from our point of view. You're this angry, aggressive stranger that we know is a werewolf and you pick and choose what you want to tell us. Scott gets bit after finding a severed body in the woods and then we find out you've buried half a body in your yard. I think we had a pretty good reason to think you were a killer."

"And yet, you still got in my car."

"Yeah, well, I had a little bit to drink tonight…"

"I noticed."

Turning to glare at him, she waved a hand. "This is what I'm talking about. Why can't you just talk to people like a normal person? Is it a werewolf thing? Because watching people from shadowy corners is frowned upon."

Derek rolled his eyes. "It's not a werewolf thing; it's a 'trying to stay under the radar' thing. Which I was doing just fine until you guys got me arrested and basically announced to the local hunter population that I was back."

"The hunters know you're a werewolf?" She stared at him curiously. "How?"

"I was born this way. Everyone in my family was. The Hales are well known in our community, which means that the hunters know about us, too…"

"And they don't like you?"

"They don't like any shifter." He sighed, sounding and looking exhausted. "That's why they're hunters."

"So, what, they just kill anything that isn't human…? How does that make them any better?"

"No, they have a code." He clenched his jaw, a muscle ticking. "One they're supposed to follow, strictly."

"I'm getting the feeling they don't…"

He sent a withering look in her direction. "No. They don't."

"Okay, so, now that they know you're here what are you going to do?"

He shook his head. "Survive."

Malia frowned. "That's it? That's your plan?"

"I had a better plan before I was exposed. But I can't just pack up and leave, I have things to do."

"What kind of things?"

He sighed. "You ask a lot of questions, you know that?"

Malia snorted. "Two weeks ago, I didn't know werewolves were real, let alone that my best friend would turn into one. Of course I have questions."

Derek didn't respond, instead he took the turn off that led down the road to her house. "What I'm dealing with is dangerous. Too dangerous for a group of teenagers to start nosing around in it. And definitely too dangerous for you to be walking home at night at two in the morning."

Shifting in her seat, Malia faced him, her brow furrowed. "Scott thinks you keep reaching out to me to threaten him. That you do all these things, showing up like you do, your cryptic talk, warning him through me, because you want to know how easy it is for you to get to me."

Derek looked at her, any expression carefully masked. "What do you think?"

"As much as you need to work on your social skills and quit with the bread crumb hints… I think you're genuinely worried he'll hurt someone. Which doesn't really fit with the killer theory."

He hummed, but neither agreed nor disagreed.

"Why me, though? Why not Stiles? Or just go to Scott directly, without the violent threats?"

Derek pulled up to her house and cut the headlights. "Because Scott isn't willing to hear me and Stiles is the Sheriff's son."

"Is that the only reason?"

He frowned, his brow furrowed in a knot. "No. But I don't have a clear answer why yet."

"Yet?"

Sighing, he turned an exasperated look on her. "Contrary to what Scott thinks, I'm not here to hurt any of you. And if I did, I'm sorry…" His gaze fell to her arm meaningfully. "It's no excuse, but I was frustrated and I guess I held on too hard."

Malia shrugged. "It's fine. Doesn't even hurt."

"Still." He cast his gaze ahead, expression muted once more. "You're more fragile than you think."

"I'm pretty sure that was an insult…"

What could almost pass for a smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. "An observation."

"Yeah, well, if they keep going in that direction, you can keep them." Malia reached for the door handle. "If you want some advice, talk to Scott… He's just as afraid he's going to hurt someone as you are."

"If he was, he wouldn't have played."

"That's really easy to say when you grew up in a family that could teach you how to control that part of you. Scott was thrown into this and the only person who seems to know what's happening is a shady stranger he thought was a murderer." She looked back at him. "I can't always be your buffer. I'm doing what I can to help him, but I'm not a werewolf."

He stared at her a long beat before saying, "No. You aren't." His tone was strange and Malia was starting to feel the effects of the night set in on her.

"Thanks for the ride." She pushed the door open and climbed out. "And sorry again for digging up your dead sister and getting you arrested."

He stared up at her. "You have no tact, you know that, right?"

She shrugged. "It comes and goes."

With a sigh, Derek flicked the headlights on. "Be careful."

"My house is literally right there."

"I'm not talking about getting home."

When he didn't say anything more, Malia closed the car door and walked up her driveway, all the while muttering to herself about breadcrumbs and dramatic werewolves.

Making her way inside, she used the light of her phone screen to guide her through the living room. The last thing she needed was her dad to come out asking questions about where she'd been and what she'd been doing. Closing her bedroom door behind her, she flipped the light on and kicked off her boots. She hung her jacket up in her closet, laid her necklace on her dresser, and traded in her party clothes for a comfortable pair of pajamas. Picking up a sleepy Shiloh, she carried her over to her bed to lay down beside her.

Sending a text off to Danny to let him know she was okay, she then focused on Stiles' many unanswered and worried texts.

—'hey, sorry, i was at danny's and didn't see these. i'm fine. he just invited me to a party and i decided to go. no big deal.'

She hesitated to tell him she saw Derek, but considering she was supposed to be more honest with both him and Scott about Derek and his lurkiness, she chewed her lip indecisively. Stiles had been adamant that they work on the enigma that was Derek and this werewolf problem together and she'd agreed, which made up her mind.

—'i saw derek… i talked to him. he saw scott play and he wasn't happy, said we got lucky.'

A little bubble popped up to show Stiles was responding. —'and you're okay? he didn't do anything?'

—'nope, just wanted to talk. apparently, now that he's been arrested the hunters know he's here and he's not happy about it.' She sighed. 'it's a long story. I'll tell you everything tomorrow. i'm really tired.'

A nerd emoticon appeared, followed by —'that's what you get for partying until 2 without ME.'

Malia smiled. —'i know, i'm the worst. i'll bring you next time, promise.'

—'so there's going to be a next time?'

She thought about it, beginning to end, and had to admit that, overall, she had a pretty good time. —'i think so, yeah.'

Three worried emoticons appeared. —'you're not trading me in for danny are you?'

She sent him back a grinning emoji. —'i'd never trade you in. you're stuck with me.'

He sent her three hearts.

Malia sent him three ghosts.

—'get some sleep, party girl. we'll talk tomorrow.'

—'okay. night!'

—'night.'

Malia was about to put her phone away when it buzzed once more, this time with a message from Scott. —'are you awake?'

A cold drip fell from her chest into her stomach. She could just imagine where that conversation would go. He would tell her all about his kiss with Allison, wanting to share this huge moment in his life with best friend Malia. Only she couldn't do it. Not now. It was too much. So, she put her phone on the end table and she turned out her lamp. Rolling over, she wrapped an arm around Shiloh, kissed the top of her head, and willed herself to sleep. Maybe tomorrow she would have the courage to talk to him. Maybe tomorrow, the Band-Aids holding her fractured heart together would do a better job.

…

Malia wouldn't call how she was feeling a 'hangover,' exactly, but she had a headache that wouldn't let up and her mouth tasted like dishwater. Which was why she was walking up and down the aisles of the corner store in her comfiest sweatpants and a pair of sunglasses, filling a basket with Aspirin, Gatorade, and frozen burritos. Ramón ran everything through with a knowing smile. Malia saluted him before she walked outside, wrist weighed down with a bag.

On her way toward the road, she spotted a shock of yellow hair out of the corner of her eye. Glancing over, she found Erica sitting at a peeling picnic table, books spread in front of her.

Malia pivoted and walked toward her. "Hey." She took a seat on the opposite side of the table and pulled out one of her Gatorades.

Erica half-smiled, looking surprised that Malia had joined her. "Hey… Long weekend?"

"I learned a valuable lesson about beer-pong." Digging out the Aspirin, she unscrewed the cap and sighed. "It's only fun when it's happening."

Snorting, Erica said, "I'll take your word for it."

Knocking pack two pills with a swig of Cool Blue Gatorade, she grimaced and wiped at her mouth with her wrist. "How was your weekend?"

Erica shrugged. "Worked, mostly. I'm trying to catch up on my homework in between."

Malia's gaze fell to the books spread in front of her. "Spanish?"

"Yeah. I saved it for last, since I'm semi-fluent."

"Semi?"

"I grew up around it, so that helps. But, my parents work a lot and school was always in English, so it's a mixed bag." She tapped her pencil against her book. "I saw you at the lacrosse game last night."

"Oh yeah?" She raised an unenthusiastic fist. "Go Cyclones."

"Is that why you were playing beer pong? There was an after party?"

"As I hear it, there's a party if they win or not." Malia shrugged. "Mostly I went to drown my sorrows."

Erica's brow furrowed. "Oh. Anything to do with the guy in the Camaro?"

Malia's head cocked. "You're observant."

"More like nosey." Erica shrugged. "There's not a whole lot to do around here but people watch and study."

"Makes sense." Malia pushed her sunglasses on top of her head and rubbed the heel of her palm against an eye. "Anyway, he wasn't the problem…" Derek was part of a problem, obviously, just not the one that sent her running toward a party. "Boys just suck."

"Yeah?"

"No. Well… Yeah. Some of them." She shook her head. "Crushes suck. Love definitely sucks."

"I wouldn't know." Erica frowned. "I'm unpopular, I have acne, and I have grand mal seizures. People aren't exactly lining up to date me…"

"Yeah, well, fuck them." Malia shrugged. "The people you want to hang out with aren't gonna care about any of that stuff. I mean, why do you want to be popular?"

Erica's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"Well, what do you get out of it? What's so great about it?" Malia had never understood the appeal. "I know popular people. I wouldn't call us friends. Well, maybe one of them. But the other one… All she cares about is how other people think about her. That's gotta be exhausting."

"I just want friends." Erica's shoulders sunk. "I don't want to be laughed at."

"You don't need to be popular for that. Just look for people you actually like. People you can talk to. The right kind of people protect you. And the ones that laugh… They're assholes that don't deserve a second thought."

Erica's lips flattened. "That's really easy to say when you're…" She waved a hand, "you."

Malia paused, taken off guard. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means… You're pretty. You run track. You have two amazing best friends. You hang out with people like Danny Mahealani and Lydia Martin—"

"I don't 'hang out' with Lydia. We have a mutual friend, so we put up with each other."

"What's the difference?" Erica stood, angrily pulling her books together. "I wish I didn't care. I wish I didn't have to think about what other people think. But, I do! Because I don't have anybody. I have this shitty job and no friends and I spend every day worried I'm going to have a seizure and piss my pants in front of the entire school! It's not that easy for all of us." With that, she marched off, her frizzy ponytail bouncing at her back.

Sighing, Malia stared after her. Grumbling to herself, she flicked her sunglasses back on and grabbed up her bag. Making her way to the road, she started back to her house, all the while turning over everything Erica had said. Because as much as she didn't want to admit it, she might be right. Malia knew she was lucky. Even if things were awkward with Scott right now, she had him. He and Stiles would always have her back, no matter the circumstances, just like she would have theirs. And sure, the recent werewolf issue was a downside, but they were working on it. In comparison to Erica, she did have it easy in a lot of ways. And maybe telling her to get over it was short-sighted. Erica was only fifteen, with a mom that clearly prioritized school and popularity. In contrast, all Malia cared about was her dad, her friends, and her dog. Life wasn't perfect— not by a mile— but maybe some people had it a little harder.

…

That afternoon, Malia wandered around her kitchen, throwing together a sandwich for dinner.

"How was the game?"

Malia looked up, surprised to find her dad hovering by the fridge, arms loosely crossed.

"Uh. It was good." She licked some mustard off her thumb and shrugged. "We won."

"You were out pretty late…"

"Yeah." She winced. "Sorry. A few friends wanted to hang out and celebrate."

"Who drove you home? Didn't sound likes Stiles' jeep."

"Just a friend. Completely sober, I promise." She closed her sandwich and used a knife to cut it in half. "Allison's going to be here in a little while. We're going to study at her place. I have an English essay I want to get a head start on."

Henry nodded. "Good. That's really good…" He shifted his feet, his gaze set on the floor.

"Was there something else…?"

Clearing his throat, he looked up. "Look, you're getting older, and I know you want your privacy and I respect that. But, you're just sixteen and… boys, they expect things. So—"

"Oh my God." Malia's eyes widened. "We're not having the sex talk."

He grimaced. "I don't like this anymore than you do, but—"

"No, seriously. Stop." She held a hand up. "Look, I wasn't out having sex. The guy that dropped me off is just a friend. If you even want to call him that." She shuddered. "I went to a party with some friends. I danced and hung out and it was nothing crazy. I lost track of time, that's why I got in so late. Really."

"Even so…" He scrubbed a hand over his head. "When your mom was your age, she had a boyfriend. Wasn't me. Another guy in our class. It was the eighties, you know? Big hair, spandex, probably too many drugs…"

"Dad…" She stared at him. "Please, stop."

"She isn't here to have this talk with you and I might mess it up, but we need to talk about safety and- and peer pressure. Some boys, they aren't thinking with their heads… In fact, no boys is. And that includes those guys you run around with. So—"

Malia groaned, her shoulders slumping. "Melissa McCall is a nurse. She sat me down when I was thirteen and told me all about periods, hormones, condoms, birth control, and consent. So please, stop making this awkward for both of us."

Visibly relieved, Henry let out a heavy sigh. "Oh. Well that… That's good. I'm glad to hear that."

"Yes. Now… can I go? Because I don't feel like I can look you in the eye and I want to scrub the last five minutes from my mind."

Henry let out a snort. "Go ahead."

Malia hurried past him, sandwich in hand, and bee-lined it for her bedroom."

"Mal?" he called after her.

Grimacing, she paused, but didn't look back.

"I just want you to be safe. And I don't just mean with… sex. I mean… Boys can be cruel. They say what you want to hear and then they break your heart. I don't want that for you."

Malia's shoulders loosened up. "It's okay, dad. I know. You don't have to worry about me."

"There's no off switch for that, honey. I'm always going to worry."

A small smile pulled at the corner of her mouth before she shook her head. "Still actively forgetting all the sex stuff you said."

He chuckled under his breath. "Me, too."

Malia continued to her room then, closing the door behind her and letting out a heavy sigh.

…

Later, Malia sat on Allison's bed, pillows tucked behind her back, a binder in her lap, and a blue highlighter stuck between her teeth.

"Okay, I can't help it." Allison closed her book and wiggled her eyebrows. "Tell me about Cole."

Removing the highlighter, Malia sighed. "Shouldn't we be working on this essay?"

"Come on… The essay's not due for a while anyway. This is just a prep session to see what we want the topic to be." Allison sat up at the end of the bed and pulled her hair into a ponytail, using the elastic off her wrist. "We can take a few minutes to talk about this obviously hot party make out…"

Malia scrunched up her nose. Earlier, when Allison had asked her to come over, Malia figured it was a good way to get over the awkwardness she was feeling from Saturday's game and witnessing Allison and Scott's kiss. Much as she wanted to completely bleach her mind of it, there was no way to truly avoid the fact that her friends were dating. And, well, that was what Allison was now— a friend. She wasn't on the same level as Scott or Stiles, but Malia did like her. Enough that she was spending her Sunday getting ahead in English. Or she was, until right now.

"I don't know what you want me to say…" Malia shrugged. "We talked, we danced, we made out…"

Allison rolled her eyes. "Do you like him? Do you think you'll hang out or even just make out again? Details! Tell me something."

"I don't know. I mean, it was fun and he was all right… But, I'm not going to write sonnets about it or anything."

Allison cocked her head. "How cute?"

Malia laughed. "Really cute."

"Yeah…" Allison grinned.

"Yes! Now, can we get back to doing this essay? The sooner we focus, the sooner I can get it done and never think of it again."

"Fine. But I want you to point him out to me at school tomorrow. In fact, why don't I pick you up?" She stared at Malia hopefully. "I know you usually get a ride from Stiles, but it's nice to switch it up, right?"

"Uh, sure." Malia nodded. "And I'll point him out, but only if you don't make it into a thing. It was a party, we were both drinking, I wouldn't be surprised if he completely forgot about it."

Allison frowned skeptically. "Sure he did…"

"Homework." Malia grabbed up her highlighter. "Which topic are you planning to do? We can get an outline put together at least."

Agreeing, Allison turned her attention to the assignment description and Malia breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Much as a part of her wanted to talk about Cole, another part was worried it might open a door to a conversation she didn't want to have. Namely, the one where Allison described her no doubt 'epic' kiss with Scott. Malia was trying to be cool with it; she just wasn't sure she was at that level of okay just yet.

…

After Allison dropped her back at her place, Malia put her focus on the rest of her homework. She was just closed her math book when a little alarm let her know Stiles was trying to Skype her. She tapped on his name and smiled. "Hey."

"Hey! How was Allison's?"

"Good." She shrugged. "How was all-day video games?"

Stiles grinned. "Awesome." He leaned back in his chair. "I was a little worried that all this werewolf stuff might get in the way of just hanging out, you know? But, it was kind of cool to forget about everything for a day."

"Have you heard anything more from you dad about Laura Hale?"

"Not really." He shook his head. "It sucks, because I still think Derek did this but he's going to get away with it."

Malia frowned. "You seriously think he killed his own sister?"

"We don't know what werewolves are like, not really." He fiddled with a pen on his desk, flipping it over and over between his fingers. "For all we know, this is normal in werewolf packs."

"Pretty sure that would defeat the purpose of having a pack…" She sighed. "I didn't get that vibe from him last night. What if he's just a victim in all this, too? You said his family died in a fire. What if his sister was all he had left?"

Stiles glowered. "Please tell me you aren't sympathizing with him… Malia…"

"I'm surprised you're not."

He scoffed. "With a murderer?"

"Alleged murderer. And we both know what it's like to lose a parent. Imagine tacking on the rest of your family…" Malia's brow furrowed. "I don't know. I just think there's more to it."

"Ah, the great werewolf mystery…" He tossed the pen away and sat up, stacking his hands on his desk. "He say anything else to help piece it together?"

"He said it was dangerous. But so far, all of this is dangerous."

Stiles nodded. "True." He paused then, gaze wandering away. "Speaking of… Scott's been asking about you. After he saw you leave with Danny, he seemed pretty confused."

"Yeah, well, hanging around to talk about his and Allison's kiss wasn't high on my priority list." Malia rolled her eyes. "I'm happy for him, but I needed some space."

"Do you still need space…?" He stared at her searchingly. "He's gonna notice if you start pulling away and he's going to have questions. Especially after what happened in the woods."

"I'm not afraid of him. That's not what this is about."

"Yeah, but he doesn't know that." Stiles sighed and rubbed a hand over his hair. "Look, I'm just saying he's been a little off. Guy kisses the girl of his dreams, but he's distracted and worried instead of celebrating."

"Because he thinks Derek's a killer and he's out on the loose. Not to mention we got said alleged-killer arrested."

"Well, he seemed to forgive you pretty quick, maybe he'll do the same for us." Frowning then, he said, "What's up with that, anyway? Why is he always going to you?"

"I asked him that and he said it was because Scott won't listen and your dad's the Sheriff…" She shrugged. "Doesn't exactly make it easy."

"Yeah… Not to mention you're crazy enough not to run in the opposite direction when he shows up."

Malia snorted. "Whatever. Anyway, he offered to help Scott again and I think he should hear him out. We can go with him if you're worried. But at some point, Scott needs to find out more about this werewolf stuff and we're not exactly equipped for it."

"Yeah, but trusting Derek?"

"What if he's not the killer?"

"He still bit Scott!"

"We don't know that for sure." She stared at him, her brows raised. "I just think we could avoid a lot of confusion if we'd let him explain his side of things. It doesn't mean he's right, but it could give us more to work with."

Stiles pressed his lips flat. "I'm not sold on it."

"Can we at least make it an option and not veto it immediately?"

"Fine. It's on the table."

"Thank you." Sighing, she crossed her arms. "Enough about Scott and werewolves. How are you doing?"

"Struggling to focus at school, worried about my dad's heart, worried about you and your complete lack of self-preservation skills… Still a little pissed I didn't get an invite to last night's party…" His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "I think that's about the gist of it."

"I already told you I'd bring you to the next one. Anyway, I only saw Lydia a few times. She was either insulting someone or making out with Jackson. Danny was great, though. We partnered up for beer pong and beat Jackson. And…" She paused, wondering if maybe she should leave Cole out of it. It wasn't like she was planning on searching him out on Monday. It was a party fling; there and gone. Still, she kind of wanted to tell Stiles. It wasn't the same as it was with Allison; Stiles wouldn't want to compare notes on who was a better kisser, Cole or Scott. "I met someone."

Stiles' brows hiked. "Met someone like… you like someone?"

She shrugged. "It's nothing big. We just hung out for a while…"

"That's it?"

She looked away.

"That is not it?" He leaned forward eagerly. "Did you hook up with someone?"

"We made out."

"What!?" He grinned, but it fell a beat later. "Wait, is this a good thing? Are you rebounding? Is it still a rebound if you never actually dated? Whatever. Is it serious, not serious, casual, what?"

"It was a party…" She shrugged. "It wasn't anything to write home about. He's just a guy. Plays basketball."

"What's his name? Do I know him?"

"I barely knew him. I think I've seen him around school, but I don't really watch basketball."

Stiles' brow furrowed. "So, he's on the team then, right?"

"Yeah."

"Is that all you're going to give me?"

Malia sighed. "You're freaking out a lot more than I expected, so, yup."

Stiles deflated. "Come on! I can't be excited for you?"

"We made out at a party, Stiles. I'm not marrying him."

"It'd have to be a pretty serious make out for that…" Stiles grinned. "I'm happy for you, though. I mean, even if doesn't turn into anything. Whatever makes you happy, I'll support."

Malia nodded. "I know." She stared at him seriously. "You know you can talk to me too, right? About school and your dad and whatever else you're dealing with…"

"Well, you know me. I prefer a constant state of anxiety to actually talking about it."

Rolling her eyes, she said, "And when you change your mind, you know where to find me."

Stiles stared at her, saying sincerely, "Yeah, I know."

"Good."

…

They're at the school, pushing through the doors and racing, hand-in-hand, across the wet asphalt of the parking lot. Allison giggles.

"Come on."

"Where are you taking me?"

Scott leads her to a bus, one of a few lined up next to each other. "Somewhere we can be alone."

She laughs. "We are alone…"

They come to a stop in front of the bus door, his back pressed to it and her standing in front of him. Her smile is wide and warm and her cheeks are flushed pink. "Somewhere we can be more alone." He pulls the door open to the bus and looks back at her. "Come on." He leads her up the stairs and down the aisle, the seats empty and a cool blue tint to everything, nothing but the glow of the street lamp outside to show their way. They walk nearly to the back before he turns around to face her and then slides into a seat. She takes a seat across from him, mimicking his pose, her legs stretched along the chair, her gaze warm and teasing.

Scott licks his lips as he grins and pulls himself down the seat. He pushes forward, crossing the space between them, and kneels on her seat. His hands brace on the seat in front of her and the back of her seat as he leans down. She tilts her chin up to meet his kiss. His eyes fall closed and he sinks into it, the soft, warm touch of her lips against his. Her fingers are cool against his neck, brushing against his ear and combing through his hair.

His heart starts to race, pounding in his chest, and he feels it as his claws form, tearing open the seat. He pulls back, his brow furrowed, and feels his whole body tense; every muscle growing taut.

"What's wrong?" Allison whispers, her hands wandering down his chest.

Scott pulls away, bent over in the aisle, his shoulders hunched. He's out of breath and he can feel the rippling sensation of 'the shift' pulling at him. "Get away," he tells her.

"Scott?"

He turns to face the other chair. He can feel his teeth elongating, eyes a ghoulish gold, and hair growing along his cheeks and sprouting from his eyebrows. He wants her to leave, to run, before he can do something. Before she sees what he really is.

He hears movement behind him, assumes she's standing, and tells her again, "Get away from me."

The voice that answers isn't Allison's.

"Scott, look at me." It's firm. Unafraid.

Malia.

He raises his head to face her, his vision tinted red, and shakes his head, blinking quickly. "Wha…? What are you doing here?"

"You need to focus…" She stares at him searchingly. "You can fight this. You've done it before."

"I c-can't. It's too strong." He groans and drags his hands down the top of the seats, shredding the fabric open. In an instant, his restrain is gone. When he raises his head, he's lost to the instincts of an animal out for blood.

Malia backs up, but she keeps her eyes on him, her lips pressed together in a flat line and her brow furrowed.

A slow building growl leaves him and he bares his teeth at her.

He can hear her heart skittering, but she doesn't run. Doesn't scream or cry or even attack him.

"You don't want to do this. I know you don't…"

But, he does. Or some part of him does, and he's helpless to it.

He digs his claws into the seat and launches himself toward her.

Malia is quick; she drops to her knees and crawls under him. When he lands, he pivots around to face her.

"You can fight this. I know you're scared, but you just have to think." She backs up, until she reaches the emergency door, and feels around to grab at the handle.

Scott's head cocks, his eyes narrowing, and he walks toward her, sniffing at the air. She's afraid, even if she doesn't look like it. It's an acute smell; it stings his nose. The animalistic part of him enjoys it.

Scott leaps at her again, but she darts to the left. She climbs over the top of the seats, but they're too far apart, and it slows her down. He pulls a seat up from its hinges and throws it. Bouncing, it slams against the chairs, the roof, and eventually the front window of the bus. Malia leaps into the aisle and hurries toward the front, attempting to climb over the mangled chair to reach the door. But it's blocked, leaving her stuck there with him.

He stalks toward her and listens to her heart reach an impossible height.

Finally, she turns to face him, her teeth gritted in a snarl and her eyes damp. He can smell the salt of her tears.

Instead of running, she turns to face him, her hands balled into fists, and then she runs at him. Whether to knock him over or to attack, he isn't sure. As soon as she's close enough, his hand wraps around her throat and squeezes. He lifts her up, enough that her legs dangle and her feet kick. She claws at his hand and his wrist, tearing them open with her short, blunt nails, but he doesn't flinch.

He pulls her forward, until they're inches apart, and he drags his nose over her cheek, breathing her in. Wildflowers and fear and salt. A tear falls and his tongue catches it. A rolling growl leaves his chest as he meets her eyes and she glares, even as she chokes, her face turning an angry red.

"Isn't— y- ou—" she chokes out.

His claws glide down her cheek, leaving three lines of blood in their wake.

And then he throws her. Like a rag doll, she flies through the air, crashing against the door at the back and toppling to the floor. He marches toward her as she rolls over— bloody, bruised, and coughing. He grabs at her ankle and pulls her down the aisle until he's hunched over her, an arm raised above him, nails still dripping with her blood.

She clutches her neck and stares up at him, stubborn as ever. "I trusted you."

His hand comes down with brutal efficiency; warm blood sprays across his face.

She never screams.

.

"Wait, you licked her tears?" Stiles squinted at him. "Seriously?"

"Not me!" Scott sighed. "The wolf."

"Okay, but you know you are the wolf, right? You're not separate identities."

His shoulders slumped. "It feels like we are."

Stiles pulled open the door to the school and stared at him, wide-eyed. "Okay, so, dream-wolf killed her though, right?"

"I think so. I woke up after the first swing, but… there was so much blood. There's no way she would've survived that." He shook his head and tucked his thumbs in the straps of his backpack as they walked down the hall. "When I woke up, I was sweating like crazy and I couldn't breathe. I've never had a dream where I woke up like that before."

"Really?" Stiles brows hiked. "I have. Usually ends a little differently.

Scott frowned. "A) I meant I've never had a dream that felt that real and b) never give me that much detail about you in bed again."

Stiles blew out a sigh. "Noted. Let me take a guess here, though—"

"No, I know." Scott shook his head. "You think it has something to do with me going out with Allison tomorrow, like I'm gonna lose control and rip her throat out."

"Well, yeah, that, but that's not all of it." Stiles stared at him. "I mean, if that was the only reason, then why do you think she turned into Malia?"

Scott's shoulders tensed and he looked ahead, focused on the floor. "I don't know."

"Dude, seriously? I mean, after what happened in the woods and just about every time you've shifted, Malia's been there." He reached over and slapped the back of his hand against Scott's chest. "Of course you're worried she's going to get caught in the crossfire… But hey, come on, it's gonna be fine, all right? Personally, I think you're handling this pretty freakin' amazingly. You know, it's not like there's a lycanthropy for beginner's class you can take."

"Yeah, not a class, but…" An idea sparked, even if it wasn't one he particularly liked. "Maybe a teacher."

Stiles stared at him incredulously. "Who, Derek? Are you forgetting the part where we got him tossed in jail?"

"You don't know what it felt like." Scott grimaced. "I mean, chasing her, attacking her like I did. She didn't even really fight. She was so sure I wouldn't hurt her. What if that happens in real life? It felt so real…"

"How real?"

"Like it actually happened."

They pushed through the doors to the back parking lot, en route to the lacrosse field, only to find themselves staring at the bloody back end of a bus, the emergency door torn half off its hinges.

Scott's eyes widened and his mouth fell ajar.

Stiles reached for him, a hand on his shoulder. "I think it did."

Scott turned to stare at him, a cold rush of complete and utter horror filling him to the brim.

Malia.

tbc

author's note: so, malia met two new people. matt the photographer is definitely matt daehler of season 2. and cole james is an oc. i'm sure there are a few of you who don't like him on principal alone, which i can understand, lol. he's just meant to be here as a good time. a few people have hoped malia would have a love interest that might 'cause some jealousy and he'll certainly stir the pot, whether intentionally or not. ;)

obviously less scalia this chapter, but there's a ton to make up for it in the next one. the italic bit was scott's nightmare from pack mentality, changed a bit to better fit his frame of mind and what's been happening. but the aftermath of said nightmare is great for some scalia closeness. :)

there was also some papa!tate attempting to parent in this chapter. i appreciate his effort, plus it was amusing to write. and i couldn't help a nod to nurse!melissa who i'm sure have had a few talks with these kids about puberty, sex, etc.

things to look forward to next chapter: scalia goodness, a ton of friendship, scott finds out about cole, malia gets a date, and scott finally asks derek for help.

thanks so much for reading, please try to leave a review!
- Lee | Fina