Aspen Juniper Veata has only ever known Beacon Hills to be a quiet and dainty town. Herself, along with her best friends Scott McCall and Stiles Stilinski, had gone unnoticed by their peers in high school for as long as they could remember. Aspen ha...
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17 days until Veata Moon
Friendly reminder: Never swing your arm back to punch someone. It's too predictable. Especially when that person you're hitting is Isaac Lahey.
Isaac twists to the side, grabbing Aspen's arm and pinning it behind her at a painful angle. She hisses between her teeth as she feels Isaac breathing heavily against the back of her neck. "You're predictable." Isaac breaths, pushing her away softly.
Aspen still manages to trip over her tennis shoes. She angrily whips around, pulling a hair away from her sweaty forehead. They had been sparring for half an hour, and Aspen was seriously considering retirement from this whole "training control." thing.
"Well, I don't think I really have an advantage against a 6'0 foot werewolf who can push a tractor with his pinky," Aspen snaps, leaning down to snatch her blue water canteen from the ground.
"I'm 6'2, for one," Isaac winks her way, making Aspen flips him off as she gulps her water, "and two, use your power to your advantage. You're fast on your feet now make your body move with that momentum."
"Watching too many action movies, are we?"
"I'm an empirical learner, Veata. So get out of your head."
Now, everyone had things they found inexplicably attractive. Aspen's was apparently a tall, blue-eyed werewolf using the word empirically and taking for granted that she actually knew what it meant.
Isaac ambled toward the train, giving Aspen leisure time to place her hands on her hips and gaze up at the high, murky ceilings. It was depressing in there. No wonder Derek is such a pissy alphahole.
Isaac's heavy footfall indicated his return, and Aspen dropped her gaze to watch him slide on punch mitts. Aspen rose her brows, a tantalizing smile threatening to break her worn exterior. Isaac's glimpsed up momentary while strapping the gloves, laughing airily. "It's either this or punching bag. And we already know that's not an option."
Aspen rolled her eyes, cheeks flushing with mild embarrassment. "Stupid bag of sand almost broke my wrist," she grumbled, tightening the worn wraps around her knuckles.
"Yeah, it's not at all because you have fragile bones," Isaac smirked, but Aspen was not at all entertained as she threw a punch to his face. Isaac cursed as he shoved her arm to the side, eyes wide at her speed. "you can at least try to aim for my hands."
"I was going for shutting your mouth. Your option isn't effective enough." Aspen spat scornfully, striking his mitted hands roughly. While her eyes were trained on her punching target, Isaac's were unrelenting. So was that permanent smirk on his lips every time he would be forced back by the pressure of her hits.
