~Previously known as I Wanna Be Yours~
Being a teenager, for an adult means to be a narcissist, depressive, and hormone-high human being.
For a teenager, it means living a stage of full emotional rollercoaster and pressure to be cool and be prepared...
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I didn't wait for Stiles's explanations.
I was too stunned to do so. Instead, I apologized and left as quick as I could. Something wasn't right, I blanked out again and I don't have any explanations for why.
I laid in my bed wordlessly, my eyes glaring at the ceiling above me as my mind recked something reasonable. It wasn't like it was normal. People space out sometimes, but having blanking outs in a short period of time isn't something considered normal. I mean, I'm almost sure I'm no Norman Bates.
I hope I am not, at least.
The worst part is that I don't know how to deal with it. I mean, my mother probably can explain it to me, yet she started spending more time in the hospital and every time I tried to start a conversation on this topic, she would dodge it. And then I gave up on trying to talk to her.
Derek is almost as useless. Grandma told me to trust him, and him only. Yet I didn't have a thing to trust him for, I don't know him. And he doesn't know me or about me, so it is just another dead end.
Huffing, I sat up. I looked around the room before I settled on the bathroom. Maybe a shower will help take my mind off things.
I took off my clothes, a white dress with a generous cleavage, and then I rubbed the makeup out of my face, thanking it wasn't much. Then I hopped into the shower, sighing when the warm water hit my back.
I stayed in the shower until my fingertips were resembling raisins, making me know I was there for too long. I wrapped a towel around my body before I went back to my room, dressing in a pair of leggings and a tank top, going to the bathroom afterward so I could brush my teeth.
...
"Stiles!" Scott called when he found him sulking on the ground, drunk out of his mind, "Stiles, look at me," he asked grabbing his friend's face, "Drink the water. Stiles, drink it," the water bottle pushed in Stiles's face went ignored, he was too occupied sulking about the early events, "Something's happening, and I need you to sober up right now. Come on, Stiles," Scott groaned.
A girl stopped behind Stiles staring at the two boys, "What do you think you are doing?" she looked at Scott, "You want to sober him up fast, that's not the way to do it"
"You can do better?" Scott sighed tiredly.
"I can do best, boy," she sassed before grabbing Stiles's neck, shoving his head into the small pool next to him. When she brought him back, a couple of seconds later, a newfound sober and breathless Stiles appeared, "Whoo! How do you feel?" she looked at him.
"Like I might have to revisit my policy on hitting a girl," he replied sarcastically.
"He's sober" she dried her the wet spots on her face. "Thank you," Scott said and the girl nodded before walking away.
