Wyatt Lykensen Imagines

Pining, Flirting, Falling

You don't know that you've ever been so nervous to see a high school. True, you have been here once before, so the fabled halls of Seabrook High are less unfamiliar than they had been before, but even this fact doesn't stop whole swarms of butterflies from roosting in your stomach. Yesterday, you had stormed into the high school along with your pack to try and find your potential Great Alpha, but now you actually have to go to school here.

Yes, the day before had been much easier. You and the rest of the werewolves had been so distracted by the adrenaline rush of getting that much closer to finding your moonstone that you hadn't had much time to think about anything else. Now, though? Now, you actually have to go to your classes and try to fit in. It's not the most pleasant thought in the world.

Besides, no one else in your pack seems to be worrying half as much as you are. You expected Willa Lykensen to never care about what anyone else thought about her, even humans, that's just how she is. You don't think Willa could physically find it possible to spend even one second thinking about social norms.

On the other hand, you're less sure of the greatness of sticking out. Sure, you have your pack watching your back, but you still don't like being stared at in the halls. Zombies may have been accepted here, but the werewolves are still an unknown variable. That means all of you are on the receiving end of a lot of attention, and most of it has ended up to be negative.

Maybe you just don't like embarrassing yourself in front of people. Is that such a terrible thing to say? After all, you're not just proving yourself incapable of fitting in with the humans and zombies of Seabrook High, you're showing it off to one werewolf whose opinion matters more to you than anyone else: Wyatt Lykensen.

Wyatt has been your best friend almost since you could walk. It would be great, then, if you could keep your feelings strictly platonic, but even your heart is just as wild as the rest of you. No, you had to go and fall for him a few months ago, and now you can't think about anything but him.

What makes matters worse is how obvious it is that Wyatt could never feel the same about you. Even now, walking briskly into Seabrook High for your first official day of school, Wyatt is already talking about how he just met a super cute student in one of his classes yesterday. The cute student obviously isn't you, and the fact that he's even bringing this up means that you're never, ever getting out of the friendzone. Wonderful.

Still, it's not like you can do anything about it. You're not so much of a martyr as to avoid Wyatt just because you have a crush on him. At the end of the day, you wouldn't trade Wyatt's friendship for anything. If that means swallowing your feelings until you're all but choking on your own misery, so be it. At least you'll still have him around you, if not in the way that you'd like.

So you tell yourself, though as you glance up at the imposing doors to Seabrook High, you can't help but wish you could go through today with at least one more source of support.

As if reading your mind, Wyatt nudges you in the shoulder. "Excited about starting school?"

You groan. "Just thrilled. I love going places where everyone hates me."

Wyatt scoffs. "I wouldn't say that everyone hates us."

The two of you walk inside along with the rest of the high school age werewolves. The second your pack files through the doors, all conversation within the halls comes to an abrupt stop. Every eye turns to track your passage, every head swivels to face you.

You arch a brow at Wyatt. "Are you sure about that?"

He grimaces. "Well, maybe just most people. We can work with that."

You can't help but laugh at his remarks. Maybe that's one unexpected benefit of your little crush: the fact that you're so totally head over heels for Wyatt means that he can make you smile far more easily than anyone else. And, judging by the frosty reception of the werewolves at Seabrook High, you're definitely going to need an extra ounce or two of optimism.