Chapter Eight

8.5K 207 19
                                    

/ / e i g h t / /

I don't own Teen freaking Wolf. Happy Christmas to my American readers, this one is for you! Very angsty, I think you all will like it?

I mean it didn't happen that quickly. I lead Stiles up to my room, which except for the full laundry basket was totally clean, and he sat on my bed while I dug through my box of perfumes and scented lotions until I extracted a bottle of Jack Daniel's whiskey.

We walked out to Stiles's Jeep and parked it about a block away from the house, turning the car off so just the radio was on, playing some All Time Low quietly. I looked at the bottle for a moment in the light from the nearby streetlamp and finally managed by some miracle to get it open.

"I think you should do the honours." I announced, breaking the comfortable silence and holding the bottle out to Stiles. Honestly, I mostly did it because I was nervous. I mean, I'd drunk before, but I didn't know what kind of drunk I was, if I was annoying or not.

Stiles nodded at me, hesitating before lifting the bottle to his lips and taking a small swig. He winced as it went down, then blew out a breath and shook his head like a cute little puppy. I smiled, taking the bottle from him and bravely taking a sip of my own.

It burned going down, but was surpassed by the warmth that flooded my insides moments later. I squeezed my eyes closed, imagining all of the great and terrible things that could come of getting drunk in a closed space with the boy I had come to realize was not that bad looking at all. Maybe that was the whiskey talking.

"I'm sorry." I mumbled, handing the bottle to Stiles again. He mumbled something and took two more big gulps before wiping his mouth and handing it back.

"Please make sure I get totally and completely shit-faced, Jessa." Stiles asked after a minute, looking at me with a dopey smile on his face. His golden eyes were already droopy.

"Your wish is my command." I giggled, taking two more drinks and setting the bottle between my legs. I was slightly cold in the brisk evening air, and Stiles no longer had the engine running to heat me up.

"Have you ever kissed a girl?" I blurted, turning to stare at him. I had already committed, might as well act like I meant to say it.

"No." Stiles mumbled dreamily, gazing out the window next to me intently, his lips curled up cutely at the edges.

"But there's this girl that I want to kiss. She's so pretty. I had this whole ten year plan and everything. Scott would kill me. He'd- he'd go all wolverine and have claws and rawr." Stiles rambled, clawing at the air and snapping his teeth like some sort of deranged wolf-hybrid. I giggled uncontrollably, grabbing the bottle and drinking again before making Stiles take another drink.

"Can I kiss you?" Stiles asked, his eyes focusing on me instead of the view outside my window for once. My eyes crossed and my vision blurred slightly as I struggled to focus in on him, but when I did all I saw were big, brown, puppy eyes. So I nodded.

"If you want you can just drink more and you won't even remember it in the morning, our we can pretend it never happened. I mean-" Stiles rambled on, giggling adorably as he spoke, but I cut him off by quickly leaning over and pressing my lips against his.

We stayed like that for a few seconds before I pulled back, sucking in a breath of cool air. Stiles looked shocked and somewhat dazed, his hands twitching before he reached out and accidentally flicked my cheek while attempting to push the half of my hair that had swung into my face. His hand slid around the side of my jaw where my head connected to my neck, just at the sensitive base of my head.

We both leaned in, tilting our heads to the side so we fit together perfectly, our lips connecting again and again each time we pulled away for air. He was hesitant and awkward at first, but the more it went on and on, the more he loosened up and went with it. It was very nice, not strange that I was kissing my brother's best friend.

His lower lip was slightly below my own, and occasionally would slide over mine when he pulled back, twisting his head so our noses brushed and he could kiss me from a different angle. After what felt like no time at all of his whiskey flavoured kisses and hot breath on my face, one of his hands bravely grabbed onto my hip bone, the other sliding through my hair before grabbing onto the back of my neck again.

I was so far over the median that I was practically in the drivers seat with him, one hand tugging at the short hair on the nape of his neck, the other on his waist so I could feel his blood pumping erratically.

I grabbed a fistful of his shirt, tilting my head slightly more and taking initiative. I was never the leader, the bold one. This was just as new to me as it was to Stiles, who would probably have been too excited to sit still had he not been completely and totally drunk.

His tongue peeped out hesitantly, as if he wasn't sure what to do. I'd help him if I knew what I was doing either, which I really didn't. But when his tongue finally slid into my mouth to meet my own, it was... nice. If that's a good word? But I wasn't exactly in the mind set to be thinking about the vocabulary we had studied just says ago.

Soon I was reaching blindly behind me, pulling myself into the back of his Jeep while continuing to keep my lips attached to his. He tasted like whiskey and mint mojito gum and chapstick and he smelled like sun and Axe and fabric softener. My hand missed the seat and I fell back, the both of us breaking into laughter that was stifled by our lips being reattached as soon as both of us were in the backseat.

It went layer by layer- first, his flannel and then my Beacon Hills hoodie, his tee shirt and my shoes. His chest was the cute kind of muscle, where it wasn't shaped all square-like or tanned, it was just flat and pale like the vanilla ice cream in an ice cream sandwich.

His hands squeezed onto my hip bones tightly as my hands trailed over his stomach and chest. His lips were on my neck, my jaw, the edge of my baggy shirt and the cool skin of my collarbones.

And then they were not.

In Between || Teen WolfWhere stories live. Discover now