It'd been two weeks since Alice's encounter with the eldest Hale, and she was ashamed to admit that she thought about her short conversation with him way too often.
Her days consisted of getting acquainted with her new role at Deaton's veterinary clinic, unpacking and decorating her first home, and visiting her dad and brother. She was on her tiptoes trying to hang a curtain when Stiles called.
"Hey sis, what are you up to?"
"Ugh, trying to hang these stupid curtains, but I'm too short and don't have a ladder. Want to come over and help?" she huffed.
"Ah I would love to, but I was actually hoping you could meet Scott and me at Derek's loft," he said in his squeaky voice that was reserved for convincing her to do something he knew she wouldn't like.
"And why would I do that?" she put the curtain down and cracked her neck.
"Because you're part of the pack now, and we're having a pack meeting," he trailed off hopefully.
She snorted and walked over to the fridge, opening it to get some wine for the headache she knew was going to follow this conversation.
"Stiles, I love you and Scottie, but I'm not really a pack kind of girl. I'm more of a lone wolf," she paused, "what do you call those… an omega?" she wondered to herself as she poured a fat glass of sauvignon blanc.
She heard a chuckle in the background and then footsteps, "Please, Alice, I can't do this without you. I need my big sister," Stiles whispered.
"Ugh, Stiles! Fine," she sighed and stuck her wine glass in the fridge. "You suck for pulling that card, and you better believe I'm enlisting you in all my upcoming home renovation projects."
She hung up the phone and wandered into the bathroom to take a quick shower and make herself presentable. From what she remembered, Derek was a hunk, but she also had the longest day imaginable, so she threw her hair up into a high ponytail and put on yoga pants and a tank top with sneakers.
Stiles texted the address, and 10 minutes later she pulled up to an industrial apartment complex with absolutely no charm.
Stiles was waiting for her in the lobby, as promised, and lead her up to Derek's apartment, sliding the thick metal door open to reveal a room full of teenagers.
"For fuck's sake," she muttered, resigning herself to the fact that her night was given up to attend a glorified high school hangout.
Scott attacked her with a bear hug. "Thanks for coming, Alice. I'm so happy you're here," he pulled back with his typical lopsided grin.
"Yeah, yeah," she rolled her eyes and gave him a friendly punch in the chest.
Derek was the next to greet her, inconspicuously giving her a once over.
"Hey, Alice, I'm Derek," he said, giving her a tight-lipped smile.
"I remember you," she laughed softly, feeling a bit awkward. "We had AP English together one year," she said shyly.
His gaze turned friendlier at that, and he said, "Yeah, I know, with Mr. Matkins."
"Mhmm," she mumbled and mimicked his closed-mouth smile, wishing she had gulped down that glass of wine.
She was saved from the moment when two pretty girls stepped up next to him.
"Hi, I'm Lydia," the short, strawberry blonde said, blatantly looking Alice up and down.
Alice smirked and looked over at Stiles, enthusiastically saying, "Oh, Lydia! I've heard soo much about you!"
Stiles' eyes were saucers as he glared daggers at Alice and tried to shake his head subtly.
"You have?" she cocked her head, narrowing her gaze.
"Oh yes! Lots!" Alice said, turning toward the tall brunette, effectively ending the conversation.
"Hi, I'm Allison," she stuck her hand out, and Alice grabbed it, thankful that someone in the room had a normal way of greeting people.
"Alice," she smiled the first genuine smile of the night. Allison was the badass hunter, from what she remembered, but she seemed very sweet, unlike strawberry shortcake over there who was eyeing Alice like she had stepped on her Prada loafers.
Another teen boy came over and introduced himself as Isaac. He was cute but seemed shy.
Alice's gaze shifted to the remaining person in the room, sitting on the metal spiral staircase in the shadows. She stiffened, realizing it was Peter. The man she couldn't stop thinking about for weeks. The man who, unfortunately, had become the star of some very naughty dreams she refused to acknowledge.
His heated stare was on her, having watched her make her rounds with "the pack." He stood and mozied his way over to the group, stopping just behind where Derek retreated to.
"It's nice to see you again, Alice," he smirked, knowing he opened a can of worms with his greeting.
Stiles snapped his head in her direction, with a "what the fuck is he talking about" face, while the rest of the group looked at each other questioningly.
Alice didn't mention her little run-in to Stiles because it would've been the start of 10,000 questions from his hyperactive brain, and frankly, she didn't have the time or mental capacity to field all of them. But now she was seriously regretting it.
Deciding to be diplomatic, she gave Peter a small smile and nod. Let them wonder. They were still in high school, and she was a grown ass adult. She didn't owe them jack.
"Soo, team," she said sarcastically trying to break the ice, "what's on the agenda for tonight?" and plopped down on Derek's nice leather sofa.
Derek followed behind her, taking a seat across the coffee table, and launched into the business, while all the teens followed suit. Stiles and Scott sat on either side of her, and she noticed Peter walking back to his place on the stairs.
Throughout the meeting, she briefly paid attention and heard mentions of an alpha pack, but the feel of Peter's gaze burning into her back distracted her. At one point she turned around to confirm her suspicions, only to have him wink at her, making her blush and turn back to face Derek. Once the meeting was over, she said goodbye to everyone but Peter, told Stiles she'd see him tomorrow for Sunday dinner, and all but ran out of the loft. She was pushing the button in the elevator as Peter slid through the closing doors.
"Ugh," she groaned, leaning her head back against the wall. "What do you want?"
He smirked and leaned on the wall next to her, looking at her out of the corner of his eye, "I just wanted to tell you how exquisite you look tonight, sweetheart, but you didn't really give me a chance."
"Yeah, a tank top and gym pants, real high fashion," she scoffed, staring straight ahead and fighting the urge to look at him. Because if she looked at him, all she'd be able to think about was the dream from the other night where he was thrusting into her from behind, and oh dear lord, she felt her face heating up at the memory.
Peter opened his mouth to say something, but instead, paused and sniffed the air before breaking out into a devious grin. Alice wasn't a rocket scientist, but it didn't take much for her to realize his super-sensitive werewolf nose could probably detect the change in her hormones and, cough cough, the change in her underwear.
"What are you thinking about sweetheart," he growled, cocking his head to the side and penetrating her with his gaze.
She finally turned to look at him, mustering up all the false bravado she had, and said with a fake smile, "I'm thinking about how much I want to go home and drink the fat glass of wine I poured myself before Stiles roped me into this bullshit."
With that, the elevator doors opened, and she strode out, trying to put as much distance between Peter and her as possible.
"Alice, wait," he gently (surprisingly) grabbed her hand, and she let him turn her around.
"What?!" she exclaimed, "I don't know you, Peter! I don't know what you want from me," she finished blowing out a big breath.
"What I want is to get to know you," he said seriously. She searched his face for any signs of insincerity but came up blank.
"Well, that confuses me even more," she admitted, still searching his eyes. "All I've heard about you is that you're evil incarnate, a murderer, and a manipulative psychopath. I have a hard time believing you want to get to know me without some ulterior motive."
"Yes, I admit to having a bad past and doing things others might see as evil, but I have my reasons, and I'm not going to apologize," she scoffed and turned away, only for him to grab her hand again.
"But I would like for you to give me a chance to explain my side of things and then see if I'm as bad as you think. The only motive I have for getting to know you is that I think you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, and I'm drawn to you," he stared into her eyes with more intensity than she could bare, so she looked away.
"So, what do you say, sweetheart? Take a chance on me?" his vulnerable expression morphed back into a cocky smirk.
Alice stared at him and tried to process the last few minutes of her life, wondering how she was supposed to respond.
"I need a glass of wine," she blurted and power walked to the exit, with Peter mercifully letting her go this time.
Stiles texted her on the way home, but she didn't read it because avoiding things was how she navigated the uncomfortable situations life threw her way. Hell, she could still barely talk about the death of her mom, and it'd been almost a decade.
Alice got home, let Billie out, and grabbed her chilled glass of wine, gulping it down before falling into a night of restless sleep, plagued with dreams about a certain blue-eyed werewolf.