The sound of your mother's car roared on the wet road. Rain drops almost the size of golf balls poured down. You sat in silence not wanting to say anything. Remembering the horrible sights and sounds of the night. The sounds of the fight; groans, growls, and screams, Scotts return, looking like hell, and the police questioning everyone in the gas station who hind-luckily no one saw Scott's other form and thought he escape the beast-. Scotts clothes ripped, cuts on his face that you could see were healing on their own-making him stay as far from the others as he could-he look completely drained.
Your mother came to pick you up after the police finished taking your statement. She asked all about the incident at first, forcing you to lie to her just like you did the police-under Sheriff Stilinski and Scott's request-. She stopped once she saw how exhausted you were.
By the times you got home you went directly to your room, not bothering to say anything else. No sleep, just laid there wondering about what had happened; What was that thing? How did Scott stop it? What is Scott truly? Are there more?
You didn't go to school on Monday or Tuesday. Sadly your father made you go on Wednesday, thinking it you had enough time to process what had happened. Everyone asked about it; friends or non-friends, even two of your teachers asked. You told every one of them that you didn't want to talk about it.
Scott tried to talk to you, but you ran away anytime you saw him. Anytime Stiles tried to talk to you, you avoided him, ducking into classes. His other friends tried to, but you'd run from them, too.
Heading to your next class, a hand gripped your arm pulling you into the janitors closest.
"What the— Scott!" You snapped. Seeing him standing there with his sad puppy dog eyes.
"You've been avoiding me all day" he defended." I want to talk about about what happened"
You didn't, you didn't at all. It's been replaying over and over again in your head. You just wanted all of it to be over with.
"Well, I don't" you said, reaching for the door. Only for him to grab your arm again.
"We're talking about it! You deserve to know the truth" he said. He hated not being around you. All he wanted to do was comfort you, but anytime he came over your parents would tell him to leave. He tried calling and texting, but you never answered either. Then today at school you kept running away.
"I'm afraid I won't like it. That's why I didn't talk to you. I lo-like you a lot and if you turn out to be this scary psychopath what does that say about my taste in people" he laughed at your response.
"I'm not a psychopath. I'm a—a werewolf. An alpha actually" he reassured, showing you his crimson eyes." I never killed anyone. Never will. For the past four years I've been kinda saving Beacon Hills" he continued shyly. Afraid it sounded, too, much like bragging.
"Wow, okay. This is new. Umm, werewolves are real, and you're an alpha"you repeated.
"Yeah. Two more things; I can spell your emotions, and tell when your lying" he smirked.
"Oh, really"
"Yep"
"Prove it"
"You almost let it slip that you love me" he smiled, walking closer to you.
"I was not" you scoffed.
"You're lying"
"Fine. I do love you. And I'm sorry I kept running away" you told him, apologizing for your behavior.
He smiled wrapping his arms around you. "I love you, too" he proclaimed, before giving you a long awaited kiss.
"Wait, does this mean you know-"
"That you're the one who really ate last ice-cream bar and blamed it on Stiles? Yes, yes I do"
