Right Beside You | Stiles Stilinski | Two

7 - Full Moon, Full Plate

Time isn't real. It doesn't make sense. When you're dreading something, the clock always seems like it's on fast forward. When you're waiting for something, it moves that much slower. It's bullshit.

I don't know what time thought it was supposed to be doing while I was in detention. I thought the clock was broken it was moving to slowly. Maybe Harris had tampered with it to keep us there forever. I just wanted to sprint out of the room, escape Stiles and his amber eyes, figure out what exactly I wanted to say to him. On the other hand, leaving detention meant actually talking to Stiles instead of just sitting in silence, and that was almost worse. So naturally, I blinked, and it had already been several hours.

The sky was already dark outside when Harris finally cleared his throat. "Alright, both of you out of here. I have better things to do than sit in this classroom and grade papers."

"Good to know," Stiles huffed, flying out of his seat. He stormed to the front of the room, grabbing for his phone, only for Harris to yank it out of his reach.

"Careful, Mr. Stilinski, or you'll end up in the same place tomorrow. And I'm sure neither of us wants that."

I could practically hear Stiles's teeth grinding together from the other side of the room. "Yes, sir."

Harris watched smugly as we collected our things. Stiles was quick about it, slinging his backpack onto his shoulder and blowing out the door. I shuffled along, slowly picking up my bag, slowly straightening my blouse, slowly fixing my hair around the strap of my book bag, but when I glanced up, it was to see that Stiles was still waiting for me in the hallway. He bounced his knee impatiently, still looking livid with Harris, but he wouldn't leave without me.

I sighed. I just had to suck it up. He was my only ride home, after all. So I slid my phone off Harris's desk and joined Stiles in the hall, falling into step behind him as we walked toward the parking lot.

He threw a glance over his shoulder, but waited until we were well out of earshot to speak.

"God, what a dick."

I snickered, letting my hair fall into my face, but not replying. Stiles glanced over at me, his hands tugging anxiously at his backpack straps.

"So, um...what's up? How's your hand?"

I shrugged and flexed my fingers experimentally. "Fine. I can barely feel it anymore."

"God, that was awesome," Stiles reminisced, punching the air in front of him and hopping down the hall. "You just—just wailed him right in the face! Oh man. And that look when he realized his nose was bleeding? Ha! I mean, I resent you hitting me too, but it was so, so totally worth it."

My hands immediately shot up to clamp over my mouth in horror. I had completely forgotten that had happened. Stiles had been holding me, and I'd elbowed him in the stomach to get at Jackson. Real smart, Scarlett.

"Oh my God! I am—I am so sorry! I didn't even think—I mean—"

"Hey, hey, it's find," Stiles dismissed with a grin. "Like I said: worth it."

I bit my lip, easing my fingers apart over my chin. "Are you okay?"

"Me?" He scoffed, carelessly flicking the edges of his button down. "Psh! I'm fine. Might take me a few days to get rid of the bruise on my stomach, but I'll heal."

"Oh no! God, I'm seriously so sorry, I just—"

"Kidding!" he laughed, holding his hands up in surrender. "Just kidding. Geez, it's so easy to wind you up."

I glared at him and tried to hide my smirk by pouting. When that didn't succeed, I punching him in the shoulder with my good hand.

"Ow! Okay, that—that is gonna take some time to heal. Ouch."