Just Talk to Him! (IM5)

Chapter 17

July 22nd, 2013 - 8:45 p.m.

Nobody ever told me that our Boston hotel wouldn’t have cable TV. If I can’t have MTV every Monday evening, I’m going to die. What am I supposed to do tonight when I can’t find out for another week what happens after Derek finds out about Erica’s death and grieves Boyd? How am I supposed to process that Scott is a True Alpha? And how the holy hell am I supposed to survive a week without my dose of plot-holed attractiveness?

The answer is mope on my bed for the entire duration of the episode and longer, rocking back and forth while clutching my knees and spiraling slowly into insanity in a triskele-like fashion. And when anybody enters the darkened, starkly empty room, they’ll endure endless whines and half-crazed mutterings.

At least, that was my goal for the evening. I nearly got away with it, too, if it hadn’t been for my meddling brother and his pesky bandmates. At some point in my misery, Cole and Dalton pop my wolfsbane-infected bubble and break me out of my illusion in several excruciating steps.

First, they open the door rather obnoxiously loudly. Next, they turn on every blinding light in the room. Then, they pick me up roughly- Cole grabs my upper body and Dalton my legs- and carry me out the door and into the elevator, all while I’m struggling madly and cursing with Teen Wolf references.

“Let me go, or I’m going to rip your throats out! With my teeth!” I shriek, but Cole covers my mouth with his hand so I don’t attract unwanted attention. He doesn’t even remove it when I lick it or spit at it. “I’m coming for you! You and everyone you love! I’m coming for all of them! I’ll kill any living thing that gets in my way!”

All the while, the boys look amused and annoyed. I try again, my voice muffled to a pathetic mm-prph against the grossness that is Cole’s palm. “You’ve never seen anything like me! I am the Alpha of Alphas! I am the apex of apex predators! I am Death, destroyer of worlds! I am the Demon-Wolf!”

All I get is some controlled laughter from Dalton. Better than nothing. The elevator doors slide open, revealing the brightly-lit roof/pool deck. As Cole and Dalton carry me firmly, advancing ever more quickly to the edge of the pool, I feel a cold dread seep through my bones. I want to scream, but my mouth is covered and the only spectators are Dana, Gabe, and Will. And they’re laughing.

I writhe, trying blindly to get out of the boys’ grips. I don’t want to die.

“Relax,” Cole chuckles. “Ky, it’s heated.”

He and Dalton make eye contact and begin swinging my body like a pendulum. One, two, three. I’m flying through the air, free, flopping madly for the fraction of a second that I’m airborne. Then I hit the water with a loud slap, my favorite pair of sports shorts and my Eagles tee getting soaked in one slow-mo instant. My light brown braid turns a wet, soppy dark chocolate.

Cole lied.

I sink to nearly the bottom before my instincts kick in. I flail wildly, then remember I can actually swim. I make my movements fluid and powerful, easily breaking to the top. I gasp for air. All I can hear is uncontrollable laughter and the rippling after-splashes from my dunk.

My cheeks flame in anger and embarrassment. The rest of me shivers from receding terror and the icy pool water as I swim to the edge and pull myself out, my clothing sticking uncomfortably around my body. Without giving the boys so much as a glance, I storm off to a deserted corner of the roof, collapsing into an empty pool lounge chair.

I curl my knees to my chest and roll onto my side. I keep a tight ball with my eyes clenched shut. If I wasn’t me, I’d be crying. But I am me, and this humiliation, though innocent to the boys, is too much for me, a shy introvert. I take deep, steadying breaths, but it takes twenty repetitions for my heart rate to slow its racing.