Last time on Stella Argent {Book 1}
"I can't do this anymore"
For the past 3 months Stella has moved to Paris with Isaac and Chris she has learned the tricks about being a werewolf by Derek Hale. She is finally happy and ready to take on the world...
After assessing the entire situation, I've come to understand that what were initially perceived as monsters are, in fact, Berserkers—individuals whom Kate associates with, let's say, as her friends. Unfortunately, the Hale family incurred a loss of 117 million in bonds. I wouldn't envy being a part of the Hale family at this moment. Nevertheless, my own situation isn't exactly joyous either; I received some rather intriguing news last night.
+Last Night+
After completing everything, I made my way back to my car, intending to leave, but Stiles intercepted me.
"Hey, I just wanted to talk about earlier," Stiles began. I sighed, closing my car door, and turned to face him.
"Talk... quickly," I responded curtly.
"Stella, I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I should've just ripped the bandage off, but I didn't know how to truthfully explain it. How could I tell you that your supposedly deceased mom is actually alive and now a werewolf?" Stiles looked at me, his expression tense.
"You just said it. There's no easy way to break that news, Stiles. I'm not the same person I was back then; I can take care of myself, not just physically but mentally too. I'm not going to simply forgive and move on as I used to. It'll take some time. I'll help because it involves Kate, but I won't initiate calls or texts unless it's about that," I said, turning away. Stiles spoke up again.
"I know this might not be the best time, but like you said, I should just tell you," he continued. I sighed heavily, facing him again. "You obviously remember Malia... Well, since you've been gone, she and I got close," he admitted, avoiding my eyes. "I don't know what we are, but I know I like her, Stella," he said, finally meeting my gaze.
"Good. I'm happy for you," I replied simply. "Our relationship back then was short-lived, like puppy love, you know?" I tried to appear indifferent, although deep down, I knew it wasn't that simple. "As I said, I've changed. A lot, in fact."
I turned back toward my car, backing up and pulling out of the parking spot, leaving Stiles standing there, a mix of confusion and hurt on his face. I kept telling myself I'd changed, even in my feelings for him. But deep down, I recognized it as a lie—an attempt to clear my head and focus on what lay ahead.
+The Next Day+
I decided to skip school that day; I wasn't mentally prepared to sit through a lecture about some ancient white guy shaping history. Instead, I remained in my room, listening to music. Surprisingly, I lacked the motivation to paint, despite going through countless canvases while in France. I'd accumulated so many that I couldn't even hang them all on my wall, so I chose four, each with its own story behind the paint strokes. Sighing, I pulled out my phone and dialed Isaac.
"Hello?" He answered.
"Hey, just wanted to hear your voice," I said, smiling through the phone.
"Hey, how's it going in hell?" Isaac chuckled, making his own joke. I shook my head.
"Um, well, my mother's suddenly alive of all people," I chuckled back. "Beacon Hills bringing back the dead, right?"
"Wow... who would've thought," Isaac laughed. "But how have you been dealing with her return? I can imagine it's a lot on you."
"You're telling me. I saw her yesterday, and all I felt was anger towards her. I just went red when I saw her, and not because they didn't tell me," I recalled, shaking my head as I crossed my legs, sitting on the bed.
"Of course, they didn't. They never tell you anything," Isaac remarked.
"Oh, and Stiles has a girlfriend," I added, waiting for Isaac's reaction.
"What the... no way," he exclaimed in shock.
"Yep," I confirmed.
"Are you okay?" His sympathy was evident in his voice.
From there, we delved into hours of conversation. Isaac diverted my mind away from Stiles, my mom, and life in general. It felt like I was back in Paris, just chatting with him in my room or about random things. He updated me about the few friends we had in France. They might not have known what we were, but I did meet another werewolf there who worked at a coffee shop, which was cool.
"Well, it was nice talking, but I've got to go. It's morning here now," Isaac informed me. Glancing at my clock, I realized it was nighttime.
"Forgot about different time zones. Sorry for keeping you up," I apologized.
"No, it's fine. It was nice talking to you. Bye, Stel," he bid farewell before hanging up. I locked my phone and placed it on the charger, then lay down, staring at my ceiling until my phone buzzed again.
Seeing Scott's caller ID, I sighed and answered, "Yes, Scott?"
"Hey, Stella, I need your help," he said, with shuffling sounds in the background.
"For what?" I inquired.
"Just come to my house, please. Thank you," he hurriedly responded and hung up.
Taking a deep breath, I got out of bed, grabbed a jacket, slipped on some Converse, and left my pajamas on. Quickly reaching Scott's place, I found the spare key under the mat, unlocked the door, and closed it behind me.
"Scott!" I called out.
"Up here," his voice came from upstairs. I ascended the stairs, opened the door, and found Scott frozen on the bed while Stiles fidgeted nervously. They both halted their actions upon seeing me. I directed my gaze at Scott.
"Okay, what did you guys do?" I crossed my arms, prepared for their explanations.
"Oh, it's not my fault this time," Stiles defended himself. I didn't acknowledge Stiles and focused on Scott, who stood up and went into the bathroom. He switched on the light and pulled back the shower curtain, revealing a frightened little boy.
"What the hell did you do, Scott?"
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A/N
Sorry for a VERY LATE story and a VERY SHORT one at that.
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