I wish I knew the trick to having a good morning. There are some days—most days for me—when it doesn't matter how much sleep you get. Three hours or ten, you wake up feeling groggy and gross with only one thought on your mind: "Please let me bury my face back into this pillow, put the world on pause, and sleep for the equivalent of ten years."

But sometimes, there are better days, days where you open your eyes the moment your alarm goes off and feel wide awake. You can sit in bed and smile at the sun on your ceiling, get up and pick out a cute outfit without the slightest hassle. Everything just falls into place.

I wish I knew the secret to having mornings like that, but I don't. All I know is that when the sun and moon and stars and planets align in whatever perfect position they need to be in, you have to enjoy every second you can get. That was the kind of day I was having.

"Seriously, you're about two seconds away from having blue birds fly through the window to do your hair. It's revolting."

"Really, Lydia?"

"Yes, really. Now stop smiling. Your walking-on-sunshine attitude is giving me a migraine."

"Usually you're the one bouncing around in the morning," I reminded her, edging around the kitchen counter to her side. "You sure you're okay?"

Lydia pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing, "God, I am so sick of you asking if I'm okay."

"Lyd—"

"I know, I know. You just want to make sure. You just want me to know you care. I get it. I just…wish I could stop seeming not okay." She shook her head, vibrant curls bouncing around her as she tried to shake the weakness. "I'm fine. I…I didn't sleep well. So I'm in a bad mood."

I pursed my lips, reluctantly letting the subject go. I remembered all too clearly the nights I'd staying Lydia's room, consoling her when she woke up screaming. Even now that she was "fine," there were nights I'd walk past her room and hear her tossing and turning, even whimpering behind the closed door. But if Lydia didn't want to talk about it, she wasn't going to talk about it. There was no good in pushing her.

I walked up behind her, wrapping my arms around her shoulder and resting my head on top of hers. "Would it help your bad mood if I let you pick the music in the car today?"

"It's my car, Sadie. I should be able to play my music whenever I want."

"Okay. What if I let you pick the music, and I pay for delicious, ridiculously priced coffees before we go to school."

"Hm…I suppose…"

I grinned, kissing her temple and dodging the hand she waved to swat me off. "Meet you in the car!"

We stopped by Lydia's favorite coffee shop before school, where the coffees were very much overpriced. But even the expensive coffee couldn't put a dent in my good mood. I marched into school with my head held high, a smile on my face, and drink in hand. I felt confident, cute in my skirt and red, knee-high boots, and most importantly, like myself with my Harley Quinn T-shirt. People actually moved out of my way. I had to wonder if this was how Lydia felt all the time.

I walked Lydia to her locker as usual, stopped by my own, and then scurried off to my next destination. Stiles seemed to sense my arrival before I announced myself. He looked up from his backpack as soon as I rounded the corner, his lips pulling into a grin.

"Morning, Bennet," he greeted when I reached his locker.

"Good morning, Stilinski!"

I beamed, clutching my books to my chest and planting a kiss on his cheek. The skin immediately turned pink and Stiles let out a noise of surprise. He nervously looked up and down the hall, making me frown.

"Sorry, um…do you not want me to do that?"

"What?!" he squeaked, spinning back to me with wide eyes. He cleared his throat in an attempt to get his voice back under control. "I mean, uh—hm. Do I want the pretty girl who wants to kiss me in public to stop doing—no. Definitely not. You should definitely continue to do that."

I giggled quietly as he shut his locker and tucked his books under his arm. His cheeks were still pink, but he smiled as leaned his shoulder against the wall to face me. The fingers of one hand tapped anxiously on the cover of his notebook.

"You could uh…you could even start continuing to do that right now, if you wanted."

"Oh really?" I took a step closer to him, reveling in the way it made him gulp. "What'd you have in mind?"

"Wha—oh, uh…um, y-you know, just uh…w-we—we could—"

"Nothing!" The new voice made both of us jump, though neither of us were shocked when Scott's mischievous face forced its way between us. "He had nothing in mind, because I'm standing right next to you guys, and best friends don't put each other through that kind of torture."

"What?" Stiles scoffed as Scott nudged him aside to get to his locker. "Best friends don't…? Dude! Do you know how many times I had to awkwardly twiddle my thumbs because you and Allison were making out right next to me? You of all people have like literally no right to talk about that. None. Zilch. You actually have negative rights to lecture me about PDA."

"Oh, come on. I wasn't that bad."

"You are so that bad! You're terrible! And—and you know what? I think I honestly deserve a bit of payback. I should be able to kiss Sadie whenever I want. Huh? How you like that?"

"Are we really that bad?" Scott asked me with an abashed smile.

"You're adorable," I assured him with a shrug, "but you two are a little excruciating to be around."

"Exactly!" Stiles brandished a finger at me as Scott guiltily grabbed his books. "Excruciating! So, I think we should be given the right of way to be excruciating. In fact, I think you should be obligated to watch us kiss. Have a taste of your own stupid medicine."

"Aaand you just made it weird," I sighed, flushing as Scott laughed at us.

"What? Okay. Yes. Sorry. That was weird. I'm done. Scott, stay far, far away from us if we're kissing."

"Gladly," Scott chuckled, wrinkling his nose. "Let's just get to class."

He hoisted his bag higher up on his shoulder and led the way down the hall. Stiles shifted awkwardly on his feet for a moment, waving his free hand around as if he was unsure what to do with it. I smirked, grabbed it, and laced our fingers together as we walked down the hall.

The morning got back into its smooth swing after that. I greeted a grinning Allison as we walked into English, plopping down in front of her and turning in my seat so we could talk about the book we were reading for class. We'd ended up permanently switching seats now that she and Scott were maintaining the appearance of being broken up. I could talk to either of them, give them the chance to look at each other, and I got to sit next to Stiles. While I wished that Allison and Scott didn't need to see each other in secret, I thought things were working out pretty well.

At least, that's how I felt until I got to math. It'd quickly become one my least favorite subjects because of how close I had to sit next to Jackson. He'd eased up on the animosity after I punched him, but only because we'd reached a silent agreement to pretend the other didn't exist. But today, it wasn't Jackson who ruined my good morning.

I walked into the room with a grin, still laughing to myself about a conversation Stiles and Scott had been having about various excuses to get out of our next English exam. My head thoroughly occupied, I didn't notice that there was someone sitting at my desk until I was right next to it.

Erica was sitting in my chair, smiling away as she talked to the three or four boys hovering around her. She made sure to throw her head back every time she laughed, letting her eyes flutter closed and exposing her neck, giving her audience just enough time to look down her top.

I thought about clearing my throat, trying to announce myself, but I knew it didn't matter. Erica had super senses now; she knew I was there. She was just getting too much enjoyment out of ignoring me.

She let her last laugh die out, looking up at me with wide, would-be-innocent eyes. "Can I help you?"

I took a deep breath to steady my voice before I opened my mouth.

"That's my desk."

"Is it?" Erica smirked, leaning forward and narrowing her eyes. "I don't wanna sound cliché, but…I don't see your name on it."

She must've been able to hear my teeth grinding together, because her smirk widened with pleasure. Before I could compose any kind of snarky reply, a pair of tan hands clapped down on my shoulders.

"There you are!" Danny said, already steering me to the back of the room. "God, I've been looking for you for ages, Sadie. Come on."

He forced me into a chair in the very last row and sat down in the next aisle. He did a double take when he noticed me glaring holes into the back of Erica's head, and rapped his knuckles on the corner of my desk.

"Down girl," he warned with a chuckle.

"Sorry," I grumbled, fishing out my books.

"Hey, you don't need to apologize to me. I've never seen you this pissed around anyone but Jackson. It's kinda cute." I glowered at him, but it just made him laugh some more. "So what's the deal? You've never had a problem with Erica before."

"Yeah, well she wasn't an arrogant bitch before…"

Erica laughed in front of us, which I could only assume was at my expense.

"Ouch," Danny grimaced. "Little harsh, coming from you, Sadie. You got your chance to be a mean girl when Lydia gave you a makeover."

"That is true," I allowed stiffly, "but I wasn't being a bitch to specific people just to piss them off…well, except Jackson."

Danny frowned, then squinted at Erica as she tossed her hair again. "Okay, yeah, she does seem to have a problem with you. Something you want to share with the class?"

I snorted to myself, thinking about the complicated supernatural reasons that Erica was now my enemy. Really, she shouldn't have been. I hadn't hated Isaac when he'd gotten the bite. If anything, I should've been more upset with Derek. But there was something about the childish way that Erica was handling herself, the complete disregard for the downside to what she'd done, that was really rubbing me the wrong way. I wasn't sure I wanted to look at it any closer than that.

"You know, maybe she's jealous 'cause she found out you're dating Stiles," Danny suggested before I had to come up with an excuse. "I mean, I know I was pretty shocked when I found out through the grapevine too…"

I didn't miss the edge in his voice, and I winced. "Sorry…"

"Sorry?" he repeated, rolling his eyes. "Are you kidding me? I mean, I knew you guys were flirting, but I didn't know that you actually did something about it. Or that he did something about it, or that either of you were even capable of doing something about it! You seriously just didn't even think to tell me?!"

"I'm sorry! I was just really nervous and really busy and worried that it wasn't gonna work out and stuff."

"I had to find out from Lydia!"

"I know! I know, I'm sorry."

"Lydia!"

I tried to smother a chuckle at his insistence, but I was a little too pleased to manage it. It was nice to know that he cared enough to yell at me. I liked having friends that weren't mixed up in all the supernatural weirdness of Beacon Hills. At least my friendship with Danny was still normal.

I turned in my seat to face him, fixing him with an apologetic smile.

"Danny, I am so, so sorry that I didn't tell you. You are awesome, and I love you, and you totally deserved to hear it from me instead of someone else."

"Lydia," he repeated with a pout.

"Yes, you should have heard it from me instead of Lydia."

"Damn right, I should have." He grumbled to himself, angrily opening his book to the correct page, checking that the teacher was still occupied with the notes, and then leaning back to me across the aisle. "Which is why you're gonna tell me everything, right now."

"Danny—"

"No! Come on, Sadie, I rant to you about Bryan all the time. It's about time I got to do some listening."

"How is he?" I asked, avoiding the rest of the statement.

Danny sighed. "Not great. Honestly, I could use the distraction. So shoot."

"I don't know…"

He followed my gaze to the front of the room, where Erica had banned her posse of admirers and was now facing forward. She sat stock still, but I could see her hand gripping her pen a little more tightly than was necessary.

"Oh, come on," Danny pleaded. "It's not like she has super hearing."

I laughed at that, shaking my head at the irony. If only he knew.

Before I could begin my deep dish, Jackson strode into the room, his head held high, his better-than-everyone-lacrosse-captain smirk firmly in place. He paused when he found Erica in my seat, and even from this distance, I could see his eyes scan her up and down. I was ready to scrunch up my nose in disgust, maybe throw in a fake gag for good measure, but Jackson took me by surprise.

He blew past her and headed for Danny and I in the back of the room. Instead of ignoring me, like our silent agreement mandated, he caught my eye and tilted his head every so slightly in Erica's direction.

I frowned at him, which was answer enough. Jackson wasn't stupid; he was just dumb. Not even Lydia could have pulled off a makeover like Erica's in under twenty-four hours. A change that drastic only came from one place. The leather jacket alone was enough proof that she'd joined Derek's pack.

Jackson's jaw clenched in anger, and I glared at him sternly. If he pushed his way into the problem again because he was jealous he wasn't a werewolf, I was going to kill him myself. He was not allowed to fuck this up. Jackson just rolled his eyes and plopped into the seat in front of Danny.

Thankfully, Danny didn't pick up on our silent conversation. At this point, he was so used to Jackson and I hating each other that he just went along with it. He shook his head and leaned a little closer to my desk.

"Fine, you're off the hook for now. But I wanna hear everything, even if that means kidnapping you from Lydia's painted claws myself."

Math had ensured that me perfect mood from the morning was gone. I tried to recover throughout the day, but every time I felt even a smidge of happiness, Erica seemed to materialize out of thin air. She'd bump into me in the hallway, glare at me from across the room, or else laugh loudly over whatever I was trying to say. It was driving me up the wall.

Things were better when I was with Stiles, but Erica still seemed to be cropping up at every turn. She never confronted us, just watched from a distance. It was more than just annoying; it was unsettling. She was definitely upset that I was with Stiles, but somehow that didn't seem big enough. I felt like there was something else going on, and the longer it took me to figure out, the more anxious I was going to get.

"Hey, are you okay?"

My head snapped up as Stiles peered over at me, walking in sync at my side. We were headed to the cafeteria, and I'd been half-listening to him ramble about the new level he'd accessed in League of the Mytheval, but now his eyebrows were knitted together in concern.

"Yeah," I assured him, shaking my head a bit. "Sorry. I'm fine."

"You sure? You seem kind of…I don't know, quiet. Or quieter than this morning…that sounded weird."

I chuckled and was preparing to dismiss him again when we rounded the corner. And there she was again—mane of blonde curls, sneering so intently that her lips pulled back to bare her teeth, threatening to twist her face into a snarl. She winked when she saw me looking, then turned on her heel and strutted in the other direction.

I clenched my fists, nails digging into the palms of my hands. Stiles must have noticed, since he gently grabbed my wrist. He slid his fingers under mine, forcing me to relax, and watched me intently as I struggled with my words.

"It's nothing. Something's just…bugging me. About Erica. It's like she's trying to…I don't know, psych me out or something."

"Oh, you too?"

"What?" My eyebrows shot up and my stomach lurched. "Did she say something to you?"

"Uh, no?" Stiles frowned, taken aback by my urgency. "But she cornered Scott this morning. Well, actually, he was trying to corner her to ask about Derek's third musketeer, but then she turned the tables on him and pinned him against the lockers, which—you know, he got out of quick enough, but I guess she was making a big deal of it in front of Allison."

"Right," I sighed, nodding in understanding.

It felt terrible to acknowledge the thin blanket of relief that had settled over me. It was horrible that Erica was toying with Scott and Allison too, throwing herself at people just to cause drama, but at the same time, I was glad I wasn't alone. Erica had a problem with everyone, not just me personally. And if she was toying with Scott and Allison, there was a good bet that there was something bigger going on than my insecurities.

The truth was that Erica getting the bite had dredged up some sore memories—memories of Peter and all the promises he'd made when he'd offered to turn me. He'd said I'd be stronger, more beautiful, that it was the only way I could win Stiles over. Obviously, I'd done okay in that department on my own; we were both still human, walking down the hall hand in hand, but all the same…Erica had gotten the bite. She was certainly stronger and more beautiful, so…

I had to shut down the thought again. Erica liked Stiles, but Stiles liked me. I was the one holding his hand. And that was that.

Stiles was still looking at me curiously. "Why'd you think she was talking to me?"

"Uh, 'cause you said 'you too,'" I said, as if that were obvious. "Come on. If we're late for lunch they'll only have lukewarm fries left."

I squeezed his hand again tugged him on toward the cafeteria.

As it was, we were already a little late for lunch. The tables and chairs were already packed, the line about a mile long. I whined and stomped my feet, making Stiles smirk. I was just about to trudge to the end of the line when he pulled me back in the opposite direction.

"Stiles, seriously, I need to eat—"

"Hold on, I just gotta give Boyd back his keys. It'll only take…"

Stiles trailed off, looking around the room for Boyd, but the table by the door was empty. Boyd's normal chair tucked in neatly, but the boy himself was nowhere in sight.

"He's not here yet," I pointed out. "So can we get lunch and then give—"

"He's not here." I frowned at Stiles, who was gaping at the table in shock. "He's…he's not here."

"Yeah, Stiles, that's what I just said."

"No, no! Sadie, you don't understand! Boyd never misses school. He has never missed school. Ever."

"Well, maybe he's sick?" I offered, earning myself a pointed look.

"I've seen Boyd come to school coughing so hard even the nurse was surprised all his organs were still in his body. He is never absent, and he is never late. This—this is bad."

"How bad?"

"Derek bad," Stiles answered gravely.

He wiped his free hand down his face, looked wildly around the room, then tugged me over to the table where Scott was eating by himself. He hardly noticed as we approached, his eyes fixed on Allison's back as she stormed out of the cafeteria. It looked like she was still angry about whatever chaos Erica had brought on that morning.

"Scott," Stiles said in urgency, clapping a hand on Scott's shoulder and then brandishing a finger at Boyd's chair. "You see that?"

"What?" Scott asked distractedly. "It's an empty table."

"Yeah, but whose empty table?"

Scott didn't seem to get it at first, and for a moment, I thought the situation might not be as dire as it seemed. Then it dawned on him, and his face was wiped blank by shock.

"Boyd!"

"Yeah," Stiles agreed. "Which means we've got a problem. Huge problem."

"Is it really that much of a problem?" I asked desperately. "I mean, maybe he went to a teacher for extra help. Maybe he went to the nurse. Literally anything!"

"No, I don't think so," Scott disagreed, deadly serious. "If he's not here—"

"Then he's in trouble," Stiles finished. "The dude's a creature of habit. He goes the same places every day, at the same time. Breaking routine is—this is big bad."

"You think Derek got to him?" Scott asked him.

"Well it would certainly explain why Erica's been in fantastic mood today."

"Shit, Erica!"

Stiles and Scott both looked at me in alarm as I clapped a hand to my forehead.

"What about her?" Stiles asked, just as Scott demanded, "Did she do something to you?"

"No, she—well yes, but that's not—" I cut myself off, trying to finish the sentence in my head before I spoke. "Stiles is right. She's been acting weird all day. I thought that it was because she was mad at me, but—but that's exactly what she wants me to think! Screwing with me, screwing with Scott. She's trying to keep us distracted."

"So we wouldn't notice Boyd was gone," Scott followed.

Stiles was frowning at me, curious again amidst the chaos. "Why would she be mad at you?"

I pursed my lips. Thankfully, Scott brought the focus back by hurriedly shoving his Ziplocked lunch bag back into his backpack.

"Come on," he ordered, grabbed our arms, and ushered us out of the cafeteria.

Scott steered us through the halls, looking around and closing his eyes every few seconds. I could only assume he was keeping an ear out for Erica, making sure we weren't going to be overheard. When he was certain we were in the clear, he released his grip on us, but urged us to keep walking.

"We've gotta stop him," he said firmly. "Boyd doesn't know what he's getting into. None of them do. We have to find him before Derek can convince him to take the bite."

"He could be anywhere, Scott," I sighed. "If he's been gone all day, it's already been hours."

"It doesn't matter. If we split up, we'll cover more ground. Sadie stays here in case we're wrong. Stiles, do you know where he lives?"

"Yeah," he confirmed with a nod. "We had to do a Spanish project together once. Which is probably why he doesn't like me."

"Okay, you go there and—"

"No!" I objected in horror. I looked around again, then lowered my voice. "Are you forgetting who the principal is again? You two can't skip. If Gerard thinks something's up—"

"We'll be fine," Stiles insisted. "Gerard doesn't know what we know."

"Yeah, but he knows that I know."

That brought our group to a dead halt. Stiles's jaw had dropped, and Scott rounded on me in a panic.

"What do you mean he knows you know?! He knows you know what?! Since when?!"

"Look, it was always a possibility," I reminded them shakily. "Kate knew that I knew too—about werewolves, about both betas. And since she apparently talked to her dad about me, it's safe to say he knows that much. He has to suspect you two are involved somehow."

"How long have you known this?" Scott demanded.

"I didn't, I…he…he called me out yesterday. We stopped at Allison's before the rink."

This seemed to make the situation much, much worse.

"Sadie!" Stiles grabbed his head in distress, eyes wide. "What the fuck?"

"And you didn't think to say anything about this?!" Scott hissed. "Anything at all, yesterday or—or this morning, or—"

"Sadie, if he knows that you know, then he—"

"I know, Stiles! I know! He's watching everyone I hang out with, and my head is back on the chopping block. He made that very clear, thank you. So excuse me for taking one day to escape the shitstorm that is my life!"

Stiles groaned, screwing his face up in frustration. Scott still looked outraged, but for the moment, he didn't seem ready to speak. I had to use that to my advantage while I could. I took a shaky breath and pressed on.

"Look, he already knows about Isaac, and he was trying to ask me about Erica. If you both skip at the same time, even if he doesn't know about Scott, he's gonna think we're looking into something. He'll start looking into who else is missing, and that could be just as bad for Boyd as it is for us."

Scott considered that for a moment, but shook his head. "It's only bad for Boyd if he says yes to Derek. If there's any chance we can save him…we have to take it."

Stiles didn't look particularly comforted by that train of thought, but Scott's voice left no room for argument.

"So what do we do?" I asked helplessly.

"I'm gonna go to the ice rink, see if he's there. Stiles, you check his house, and if he's not him, you call me. Got it?"

He looked back and forth between us, and I nodded reluctantly at my instructions. Stiles was even more hesitant now. He stared at the ground, eyes flicking back and forth like they often did when he was thinking something over.

"What?" Scott asked him.

"It's just…maybe we should let him. Boyd, you know, man? You said Derek's giving them a choice, right?"

"Wha—we can't!"

Scott narrowed his eyes, grabbing Stiles's sleeve and dragging him a little farther down the hall. Stiles tossed his head a bit, looking like he'd already anticipated the answer, but continuing anyway.

"You gotta admit, Erica looks pretty good. You know, the word sensational comes to mind. I—oh, uh…" He did a double take when he caught my raised eyebrow. "You know, I mean, she—she looks okay. Better. Ish. I just—I think she kinda—"

"Stiles, it's fine. She's hot."

Both boys stopped dead again, turning to me with wide eyes of interest instead of panic. I shrugged.

"What? She's playing for the wrong team now, but she's gorgeous. I have eyes."

"Great," Scott said, rolling his eyes. "So we all agree she looks great. How do you think she's gonna look with a wolfsbane bullet through her head? I mean, didn't you hear what Sadie just said about Gerard?"

"Alright," Stiles conceded. "All I'm saying is maybe this one isn't totally your responsibility."

"They all are," Scott insisted lowly. "You know this thing is gonna get out of control, and that makes me responsible."

I pursed my lips, staring out the window and struggling to think of some argument, any argument that would stop him from rushing off with another half-assed plan. I understood why he felt compelled to help. But if Scott got hurt trying to protect Boyd, when Derek was turning wolves to help protect me, when Gerard only suspected Scott because of our friendship, then anything that happened to Scott would leave me responsible too.

"I have to try," Scott said with finality, effectively closing the discussion.

"Alright, I'm with you," Stiles agreed. "And I also gotta say, this newfound heroism is making me very attracted to you."

"Shut up," Scott groaned, his face breaking into a grin.

"No, seriously. Do you wanna try making out for a sec? Just to see how it feels!"

Scott shoved him down the hall toward the parking lot and shot me a sidelong glance. "Do you want to hit him or should I?"

"If you do it, you might actually break him," I reminded with a smirk.

"Sorry, Sadie!" Stiles spun around, continuing to walk backwards and throwing me a lopsided grin. "Really. You're lovely—beautiful! You just have a little competition."

"Oh, I don't mind," I dismissed airily. "Really, Scott. You're always invited if you're interested in a threesome."

Even if Stiles hadn't tripped and toppled to the ground, it would have been worth it for the choked sound that came out of Scott's red face. It actually took him several seconds to recover. I giggled as he rolled his eyes and Stiles sprang up into a standing position.

"Always? If we were interested in—seriously? Are you seriously—"

"Stiles," I interrupted, grabbing his shoulders before he could begin hyperventilating. "Boyd. Go."

"Right. Right! You've got it. Good."

I patted his cheek and pushed him toward the doors. Scott stepped up to my side, chuckling as we watched Stiles sprint full tilt to the Jeep.

"You're terrible," Scott scolded me through a smile.

"Yeah, I know. But I've gotta keep you boys on your toes."

"Yeah, that's for sure…"

I bit my lip, turning to him with eyes full of shame. "I'm sorry I didn't say anything about Gerard. There was just so much going on yesterday, and after Lydia—"

"I get it," he assured me. "I do, I just…I worry about you too, you know. I wanna help, but…I can't protect you if you don't tell me what's going on."

"Funny," I said ruefully. "I was just thinking that the less you know, the safer you'd be."

"You're kidding, right? This coming from the girl who bullied Stiles into telling her the truth about werewolves?"

He smirked, and I sighed in defeat. He had a point. Scott always had a point.

"Just be careful, okay?" I pleaded. "Even if Gerard hasn't figured it out, you don't know what you're gonna find out there. Erica and Isaac don't know what they're doing, and…as much as I'd like to think that Derek does, he's new at being an Alpha. We don't know what he's capable of, and he might not either."

"I'll be fine," Scott promised. "Just keep an eye out for Boyd, and…if you see Allison—"

"I'll fill her in," I finished with a knowing look. "On everything. Boyd and Erica."

"Thanks, Sadie. Call us if you find anything, or…just if you want to."

He gave me a reassuring smile and, with a power all his own, made me smile again too. I watched him out the door to the bike rack, keeping a steady eye on him until he'd mounted his bike and rode out of sight. I wrung my hands together, trying to exert some sort of pressure that would keep my doubts from seeping out of me like water.

I was distracted when my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and smiled at the message waiting for me.

"So if you're up for the idea of a threesome, would you be okay with the possibility of Lydia and/or Allison joining us? Totally hypothetical, but also really very important for my mental health."

"You shouldn't be texting and driving, Stiles."

"I'm at a full halt at a stop sign. Is that a yes?"

I rolled my eyes. Stiles's brain spent so much time in the gutter, it should probably be paying rent.

I chose not to answer him, instead texting Allison to meet me in the library so I could explain what was going on. There was work to be done, a lonely boy to be found, and people who needed to be kept safe. I needed to stop getting caught up in the worries and start working to prevent them from becoming reality. Plus, I liked the idea of Stiles frantically checking his phone for a response for the rest of the day.