Howl

Ex-cercise

Ex-ercise.

(Verb). A serious workout solely motivated by the thought of bumping into your ex one day.

"Going back to your ex is like reheating McDonald's fries."

Derek turned his head, looking at me like saying 'Really? We're strapped to 900,000 voltage electricity chords and that's what you're thinking of now?'

I bit back a grin, "Oh, wait, wait, I got another one: I still miss my ex, but my aim is getting better."

"If I wasn't chained up right now, Riley, I swear..." He growled and yanked at the wires around his wrists.

"Okay, but I swear you'll like this one." I grinned smugly, "It's funny how we all sleep differently. Like I sleep on my side, my brother sleeps on his back, my ex sleeps with everyone - that sort of thing."

Alright, let's pause right there for a minute. Just a quick newsflash unless it wasn't clear, we're kind of tied up and strapped up to a freakin' car battery, awaiting our torture to begin. Yes, and I'm making bad ex-jokes. I just couldn't help myself after finding out that Derek and Kate had a little fling when he was in high school. That's one thing that I agreed on with Peter; Derek had bad luck when it came to his exes.

But let's just rewind real quick and start from the very beginning of this ex-ercise.

I gasped for air when the feeling finally returned to my body. I flexed my fingers, lightly touched the spot on my side, and sat upright once I discovered that nothing hurt at the moment. I turned my head to make out my surroundings - I was in my room, still dressed in the same clothes. Despite the throbbing headache, I was completely fine. My head slumped back in relief, thinking that Derek just had another run-in with the hunters and managed to escape. I'll call him later to find out what happened.

"You're okay!" My eyes darted towards the door, finding Stiles gaping at me, "Thank God you're okay!"

"How long was I out?" I cringed at my croaky voice.

"Uh..." Stiles muttered and cautiously pulled the curtains open, "I'd say about... a long time?" My eyes narrowed and he quickly changed the topic before I could ask again, "So, you're going to the dance tonight? Because if you're going, you might find me there. Sitting next to Lydia. Maybe even dancing with her. Because she sort of asked me to the dance."

I sat up so quick that my headache nearly stayed behind on the pillow, "You're going with Lydia?!"

"Yeah."

I grinned like a crazy person at his dorky smile, "That's literally the best thing that happened in this town since the 'birth of Stiles Stilinski'." I quoted him from weeks ago. He snorted and hid his face behind his hands. I chuckled, "I'm happy for you, bro. You know that formals aren't my thing, but I'll show up just to snap a picture of you dancing with Lydia."

It's a well-known fact for everyone who knew me, which were basically just Stiles, Scott, and Dad, that I couldn't care less about school dances. It's not that I didn't know how to dance since Dad had Stiles and I practice on each other. Just, the whole dressing up, showing up at school, dancing in a crowd, or blending with the background, I just never got that. I saw it as a competition among girls to see who looked the prettiest or who had the most expensive dress, while all the guys cared about was spiking the punch and getting a girl out of her dress.

However, I was actually considering to show up that time, even if it was just for an hour. Stiles being asked to the dance was a big deal - like being accepted by Yale kind of big deal. But being asked by Lydia Martin, his first and only crush, that was bigger than the invention of the internet. That's why I was standing in front of my closet, trying to debate from the three dresses that I had which one to wear. One was a sundress fit for tea parties, a flower-patterned one that literally screamed 'come at me, bees', and the last one a frilly dress that I wouldn't be caught dead in. It was probably too late to go shopping, wasn't it?