❛ we were too close to the stars... ❜
Amalia, Scott and Stiles. An unshakeable trio. For 10 years, the three have resided in Beacon Hills like your average teenagers.
But what happens when on one night, Scott McCall is bitten by something...or some...
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i. ❛ where's your legs at? ❜ ᯓ★ ─────────────────────────────
11.49pm.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
I COULD SENSE who was calling me almost immediately.
I grunted in annoyance and turned to face the nightstand. As I reached for my phone, I saw the contact name - 'Stiles'. Warily, I answered.
"Yes?"
"Amaliaohmygoshtheresabody-"
"Wait, huh?"
"I said that there is a bo-dy in the wo-ods."
He purposefully stretched out his words in order to get the point across. Typical.
"Okay. The correct number would be 9-9-9." I retorted, sarcastically.
"Well how do you think I even found out?" Stiles snapped back.
"I know what you're about to say, Stiles and the answer is no."
"Oh come on!" "No." "Please?" "Nu uh." "Pretty Please?"
Persistent much?
"N-O spells 'no' Stiles, I need my beauty sleep."
"Clearly."
I scoffed dramatically at the insult, "I'm hanging up."
"No don't hang-"
I cut him off and clicked the end call button. But as I layed on my back I realised that I couldn't sleep.
I would've be lying if I said I wasn't a little curious. Who was I kidding? I was extremely curious. But if I was going to make a statement for the first day of school, how exactly was I supposed to do that if I felt like a zombie?
They'd be fine, right?
Monday, 7.05am.
I awoke to the smell of strong coffee, as I peeled up my sleeping mask to place on my head- I couldn't help but squint at the bright sunlight peeking through my curtains.
I forced myself upwards and began getting ready, my morning ritual.
First the basics; shower, brush teeth, face mask, dry hair. Then I'd run product through my curls and brush them out so they wouldn't be too tight. Makeup was a given; concealer, mascara, brow pencil, lip liner, gloss - yada yada yada.
