❝I'm overwhelmingly human. Sorry to disappoint.❞
Luna Flores hasn't had an easy life. And after moving to Beacon Hills, it isn't about to get any easier.
Forced to uproot her family's life in Arizona, Luna hopes to find respite in the unknown, quie...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I CAN'T BELIEVE you looked me up," Luna said, jaw clenched. Truthfully, Stiles was afraid she was going to break something in his Jeep when they reached the parking lot. Or worse, his face.
"To be fair, I didtell you that I could—"
"I know you did, Stiles, but I didn't think you'd actually do it!" She screamed, interrupting him. She continued quickening her pace as she all but marched through the grass and towards the asphalt, arms crossed over her chest. "After that talk we had, I assumed you might have a little more respect for my privacy."
"It's not exactly privacy if it just took a couple clicks on the Internet," Stiles blurted out, right behind her, pushing past people in order to keep up with her. She was shorter than him, which just meant it was easier to lose her in a crowd.
"Was it really just a couple clicks?" She had to control her breathing so she wouldn't screech at him and have the entire county hear her. "Or did you use your daddy's system to background check me?"
Stiles blanched, skidding to a stop so hard that his foot had kicked up dirt. "That's a complicated question—"
"Really, Stiles?" She fumed, not even slowing down to flash him a look that told him that if he wanted to live to see tomorrow, he would do himself a favor and shut up. Overcome with emotion, she couldn't figure out how else to express herself except with a a nice, clear, "Fuck you."
It was spat out so harshly that she even surprised herself, knowing that she didn't necessarily mean it to be that intense, and it hadn't registered in her head exactly how she was feeling. Overwhelmed was definitely a successful contender for most accurate, along with humiliation, but the rest were a flurry of everything mixed together so violently that she could feel her face grow hot. Feet trudging through the grass, she pressed her palm to her face to feel the heat radiating off of it, and she was sure that if she checked a mirror, underneath her light brown skin would be tinges of pink, making her look like spent too long out in the cold.
She wasn't even certain if she was particularly angry. Of course, she was at the invasion of her privacy. And that Stiles had even asked her such a question. Do you know anything about werewolves? Her stomach had dropped the minute it left his mouth, and despite him not yet admitting it (though he would in a couple seconds anyway), she knew that had found out all he needed to know about her. About Luna Flores in Arizona. About Luna Flores and Beckett Hathaway. About Luna Flores and the things she'd rather leave behind.
She should've known the past was fast enough to catch up with her and trip her on the way there with an outstretched leg.
Stiles sighed. He had had his fair share of experience with this phrase. It was one he was told often, by various groups of people. Sometimes it was joking — though, not really, but Luna certainly wasn't. He really didn't mean to insult Luna, and he didn't even care about the case. Okay, that was a lie. He absolutely did care; how could he not? Girl kills disgusting guy who tries to sexually assault her and apparently a werewolf had come to rip his throat out and save her? As much as he'd hated saying it out loud to someone who wasn't Scott, he knew that if she knew anything about what was happening to Scott, it would mean everything. Plus, he wanted to apologize.
