"please, just let me help you"
"why should i? everyone i know either dies or thinks i'm a total freak show"
Georgia Ray is a social outcast. Nobody bothers to spare her a second glance, unless it's to roll their eyes or scoff. Living alone w...
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GEORGIA WAS GRATEFUL that she actually got to sleep in the next morning, that day being a Saturday. She was beyond exhausted after everything that happened and she was glad to get a chance to sleep some of it off. Her blissful state was interrupted, however, by a firm knock on her front door.
Georgia groaned, debating just ignoring it. Still, the sound of someone knocking was extra loud for her. When the person let out a sigh, Georgia recognized it to be Stiles.
Georgia's eyes shot open and she quickly stood up. Running her hands through her hair to try and tidy it up, she worked her way out to the front door, "Hey."
Stiles cheeks were flushed a light pink color, his hands deep in his pockets. Just like Georgia, he was thinking about their kiss the night prior, "Hey, we're going down to the police station to talk to my dad about everything."
Georgia looked over Stiles' shoulder, spotting Scott in the passenger seat. Her fellow werewolf wiggled his eyebrows, implying that he knew all about their make out session.
Georgia sighed, "Great, time to fess up about stealing a prison transport van."
"You don't have to come," Stiles shrugged before suddenly he got all fidgety, "I mean, you don't have to go with us. We can explain it on our own."
Georgia shook it off, "Nah, I'm coming," she then realized how badly it could be interpreted, too, as her eyes widened a hair, "Uh, yeah, I'll go with you guys to the station. Just give me a minute."
Georgia then slammed her door, twirling around to double back to her room.
"Smooth," Scott said quietly, still in his seat.
"Shut the fuck up, Scott," Georgia called back.
She rushed around her room, hopping into a pair of jeans and a random top. Once she had pulled on her leather jacket and boots, she went back to Stiles' jeep. Stiles awkwardly got out, letting her crawl into the back before he got back in, driving away.
The vehicle was dead silent the whole way to the station. Stiles kept looking back at Georgia through his rear view mirror, wanting desperately to discuss what their kiss really meant to her.
To him, it meant everything.
When they arrived at the proper place, the three teens got out. Stiles led the way up to the front and held the door to walk in. He nodded at the lady in the front, "Can you buzz us in? I'm here to see my dad."
They walked back towards the Sheriff's office, coming to a halt when they looked through the doorway. Jackson was seated by the wall, curled up in a police coat. There was also an unfamiliar man leaning against the desk.
Finally, stood the Sheriff and Nate.
"Scott, Stiles, Georgia. Perfect timing," Sheriff acknowledged each of them, a pissed off glare in his eyes, "Have you met Jackson's father, Mr David Whittemore, esquire?"
