chapter eighteen
full moon

Stiles' plan had landed them in the picnic area of Beacon Hills Preserve, Scott sitting on top of a rock with Harper leaning against it and Stiles lying on the ground on his back. Harper closed eyes, too drunk to care that a particularly sharp part of the rock was digging into her back.

The sun had set hours ago, leaving them in a dark blanket filled with stars. It was cold out, so Harper was sporting Stiles' lacrosse hoodie from his freshman year that he had given her and a pair of black skinny jeans.

A fire burned from beside them inside a bin, its flames reaching high up and providing some warmth for the cold teenagers. The bonfire smoky smell filled Harper's nostrils. She liked it- it reminded her of Guy Fawkes Night.

"Dude, you know, she's just one girl... One girl." Stiles slurred, his head resting on the uneven ground as he tried to comfort Scott. "There are so many other girls in the sea."

Harper giggled loudly. "I think you mean fish, Sti." She hiccupped.

"Fish?" Stiles repeated, confused. "Why are you talking about fish? I'm talking about girls." He exhaled dramatically. "I love girls. I love them. I love... Especially ones with honey brown hair, brown eyes, 5'1"..."

Scott rolled his eyes when he saw Harper not paying any attention. She was just poking at the hole in her skinny jeans, oddly entertained by it in her drunken state. To say she was ditzy when under the influence of alcohol would be an understatement.

"You mean like Harper?" Scott dead-panned, raising his dark eyebrows.

The werewolf had had a few sips, gulps even, of the Jack Daniels that Stiles had stolen from his dad's alcohol cabinet, but he wasn't anywhere near drunk. He wasn't even tipsy.

"Yeah, exactly." Stiles confirmed. "How did you know I was talking about..." He trailed off. "About... What was I talking about?"

He grinned, but his smile faltered when he saw Scott's depressed state. "Hey, you're not happy." Stiles slapped Scott's leg.

Harper lifted up the Jack Daniels bottle from beside her, holding it above her head. "Take a drink." She insisted happily.

Scott just glanced at the girl and shook his head. "I don't want anymore." His voice was void from any emotion.

The brunette shrugged, putting the bottle back down between her and Stiles. "You're not drunk?" She asked.

Again, Scott shook his head. "I'm not anything."

"Hey, maybe it's like... maybe it's like not needing your inhaler anymore, you know." Harper's voice picked up a few pitches as she began to explain her theory. "Maybe you can't get drunk as a wolf."

Harper's face suddenly twisted. "Am I drunk?" She questioned, her voice dragging out as she slurred.

Scott glanced at them both for about a second. "You're both wasted."

"Yeah!" Stiles beamed, fist bumping the air weakly.

Upon seeing the distressed look on Scott's face, Stiles sighed. "Oh, come on, dude. I know it feels bad. I know. Well, I don't know." He chuckled. "But I know this. I know that, as much as being broken up hurts, being alone is way worse."

Scott's eyebrows furrowed together and he looked at his friend, genuinely concerned for him. Harper went deep into concentration- repeating the words in her head until she could see what was wrong with them. When she did, she snorted loudly.

Stiles just chuckled again. "That didn't make any sense." He laughed. "I need a drink."

Just as Stiles went to grab the bottle of Jack Daniels, an unwelcomed hand gripped the neck of the glass, pulling it away from him. Scott's head snapped in their direction and Harper and Stiles quickly sat up.

"Well, look at the two little bitches and their slut getting their drink on." The voice belonged to a large scary-looking man, probably in his late twenties. Another man stood behind him.

"Give it back." Scott ordered.

The man with the bottle frowned. "What's that, little man?" He sneered.

The one behind him finally spoke up. "I think he wants a drink." He snickered.

Scott, however, didn't laugh. "I want the bottle." The werewolf corrected.

Stiles gulped. "Scott, maybe we should just go."

Harper remained silent beside him, not keeping her eyes off of them. She would be lying if she said she wasn't scared. They were in the middle of nowhere and her and Stiles were hammered. Every single bad scenario was rushing through her head.

"You two brought me here to get me drunk, Stiles." Scott defended before pausing for a couple of seconds. "I'm not drunk yet."

The two men just scoffed as if Scott was talking rubbish. The man with the bottle raised it to his lips and took a large swig.

Scott slowly climbed off of the rock and moved to stand in front of him. Harper couldn't help but notice how much larger the other man was compared to Scott. Even though Scott was 5'10" and muscular, this man made him look tiny.

"Give me the bottle." Scott warned, not avoiding eye contact.

He just scoffed, shaking his head as a smirk crossed his lips. He was clearly daring Scott, and Harper knew that this wasn't a good idea. Scott glared at the man, showing off his wolf eyes.

"Give me the bottle of Jack." Scott's voice was distorted as his yellow eyes glowed in the dark.

Harper noticed his claws growing from behind his back. "Scott?" Harper worried.

The man slowly began to hand back the bottle, fear etched on his face. The werewolf yanked it out of his hands harshly before swinging it over their heads. It slammed into one of the trees and smashed loudly into thousands of pieces.

Harper had never seen two men run quicker.

...

"Okay, please tell me that was because of the break up." Stiles had managed to sober up slightly as he began to walk after Scott who was storming ahead.

Harper was following close behind, almost tripping every few seconds. Every time she did she would giggle loudly and Stiles would turn around to make sure she hadn't collapsed. He himself wasn't in a state to let her lean on him, but he would if he could.

"Or 'cause tomorrow's the full moon?" Stiles suggested, the cold making his breath look like icy wisps in the air.

Scott didn't say anything or turned around. He went towards the jeep and opened the door. Stiles grabbed a hold of Harper as he turned around to face Scott from where he was leaning against the car.

"Going home now, yeah?" Stiles mumbled.

Scott nodded, not paying any attention to how close his two best friends were being. He figured it was because they were both drunk and he knew they both had crushes on each other.

...

"It's just weird. Everybody's talking about what happened the other night, and nobody knows it was us." Allison pointed out as the three girls left their history class.

Lydia just scoffed from beside Allison. "Thank you for the protection of minors."

Harper just hummed, her head still aching. She'd woken up with the worst hangover she had ever had in her entire sixteen years of existence. Sure, she had only ever had one hangover before that, but it still counts.

"Harper, Lydia, do you think I made the wrong decision?" Allison pondered as she carried on walking down the hallway, avoiding all of the moving teenagers.

The strawberry blonde scanned Allison's outfit. "About that jacket with that dress?" She huffed. "Absolutely."

Allison just laughed and shook her head in disbelief. "You know what I mean."

Lydia rolled her eyes. "Hello? Scott locked us in that classroom and left us for dead. He's lucky we're not pressing charges or making him pay our therapy bills."

The shortest of the girls couldn't believe what she was hearing. Did Lydia and Allison really think that? That Scott would just leave them all for dead? He was doing the exact opposite. He had been protecting them.

She felt defensive over her best friend.

Harper's dark brows knitted together. "He didn't leave us for dead. Scott wouldn't-"

Lydia cut her off. "You know what Harper? Where were you this weekend? Hmm? Oh, that's right. With Scott and Stiles. Not us. Of course you're biased."

The short brunette's face fell. "But Lydia-"

The Queen Bee just laughed mockingly, shaking her head. "Save it. You've been acting weird lately. And you just happened to turn up at the school on Wednesday. Anything to say for yourself?"

A rush of confidence surged through Harper.

"Other than, 'fuck off'? Not really." And with that, she waltzed away.

...

Harper walked to her exam, completely ignoring Allison as she walked up to her desk. She took one next to Stiles who was sat behind Scott. She sent him a small smile before sitting down and putting her bag on the floor. She took out a pencil and a pen as Harris began to talk.

"You have forty-five minutes to complete the test." He instructed, his monotone voice carrying out around the room. "Twenty-five percent of your grade can be earned right now simply by writing your name on the cover of the blue book. However, as happens every year, one of you will inexplicably fail to put your name on the cover, and I'll be left yet again questioning my decision to ever become a teacher. So, let's get the disappointment over with. Begin."

Harris started a stopwatch and Harper immediately wrote her name on the cover and flipped the first page. A sudden feeling of dread caused her stomach to drop. Anxiety radiated off of her as she stared at the first question.

She knew it.

So why did she feel like she was about to have a panic attack?

Harper looked around the room, seeing other students anxiously tapping their pencils on the edge of their tables, biting their lips or messing with their hair as they stared down at the pages in front of them.

Gulping, Harper circled the correct question and carried on, but that feeling of absolute dread wouldn't leave her. Her palms were sweaty and her heart was pounding out of her chest.

Her head snapped up when Scott suddenly picked up his bag and darted out of the room. Harper and Stiles shared worried glances as Mr Harris called after him. Stiles sent Harper a look and quickly went after him.

"Mr Stilinski!" Harris snapped before quickly turning to look at Harper. "If you leave this room I will have to shred up your test paper and give you an after school detention for a week."

Harper huffed, sinking in her chair as she looked back down at her test paper, circling the answer to the second question. But she still worried about her best friend.

...

Coach Finstock's whistled throughout the boys locker rooms, stinging in Stiles' ears as he took a seat next to Scott on the bench in the middle of the room. He hadn't seen Scott smile once today- he was still bummed about his break up with Allison.

"Okay, geniuses, listen up. Due to the recent pinkeye epidemic, thank you, Greenberg, the following people have made first line on a probationary basis emphasis on the word 'probationary'." Finstock announced. "Rodriguez."

There was a scattered applause throughout the locker room, some teammates happy for Rodriguez while others simply didn't care or were jealous. Stiles clapped anyway.

"Welcome to first line." Finstock muttered. "Taylor, and..."

The Stilinski boy sat up, eager to find out what was on the rest of his list. He prayed that it was him. The only things Stiles had wanted for high school were Harper Verum and to play first line in lacrosse. He already, somehow, had one of those things.

"For the love of crap." Coach sighed. "I can't even read my own writing. What is that, an 'S'?"

Stiles perked up even more, playing with his hands nervously.

"No, no, that's not an 'S'."

His face fell and he rolled his eyes. Of course.

"That's a... that's a 'B'. It's definitely a 'B'." Coach Finstock paused to look around the room. "Uh, Rodriguez, Taylor, and... Bilinski."

Stiles' head shot up, his eyes wide as he sucked in a  breath. He climbed up off of the bench and began to whoop loudly, his arms failing about like a madman. He yelled happily while the other lacrosse players just stared at him. Scott didn't even look up.

"Bilinski!" Coach warned.

"Yes?" The smile didn't leave the teenage boys' face.

"Shut up!"

Players began to chuckle and Stiles' smile faltered. "Yes, sir." He replied confidently, sitting back down.

"Stiles." Scott whispered from next to him.

Stiles shook his head. "It's Biles. Call me Biles, or I swear to God I will kill you." He threatened before turning back to face Coach.

"Another thing." Coach read from the paper on the clipboard in his hands. "From here on out, immediately, we're switching co-captains. Congratulations, McCall."

Stiles looked back at his best friend and grinned in amazement while Jackson shared looks of disapproval with Danny and another lacrosse player. Scott couldn't even bring himself to smile.

"What?" The star athlete spat, taking a step closer towards Coach Finstock.

"What do you mean, what? Jackson, this takes nothing away from you. This is about combining separate strengths into one unit. This is about taking your unit, McCall's unit, we're making one big unit." He turned to face Scott. "McCall, it's you and Jackson now. Everybody else..."

He blew the whistle again. "Asses on the field! Asses on the field!" He yelled.

Everybody scattered out of the door and Stiles picked up his lacrosse stick, quickly following after the werewolf excitedly.

"Dude, can you believe this?" Stiles sighed happily. "You're captain, I'm first line." He chuckled. "I'm first freaking line!"

...

"Are you not freaking out? I'm freaking out." Stiles couldn't wrap his head over the fact that he had made first line. He couldn't wait to tell Harper.

"What's the point? It's just a stupid title." Scott disagreed, much to Stiles' dismay. "And I could practically smell the jealousy in there."

Stiles put a hand on Scott's shoulder, stopping them in their tracks. "Wait, you smell jealousy?" He asked in complete disbelief.

The werewolf nodded. "Yeah, it's like full moon's turned everything up to ten." He mumbled.

Stiles hummed, thinking things over. "Can you pick up on stuff like, I don't know, desire?" He sighed deeply.

Scott frowned. "What do you mean, desire?"

"Like sexual desire?"

Scott's eyebrows raised. "Sexual desire?" He repeated in amusement.

"Yeah, sexual desire." Stiles confirmed, frustrated. "Lust, passion, arousal." He rolled his 'R'.

Scott smirked slightly. "From Harper?"

Stiles was too quick to reply. "What? No, in a general, broad sense. Can you determine sexual desire?" He kept his voice low.

"From Harper to you?" Scott dead-panned.

Stiles suddenly snapped. "Fine, yes, from Harper to me. Look, I need to know if..." He remembered how he and Harper had agreed to not tell Scott yet. "If she likes me. If I have a chance with her. I've been obsessing over her since she freaking moved here."

Stiles wanted to know how much Harper really cared about him, and if Scott could reassure him with facts, then he would be completely satisfied.

"Why don't you just ask her?" The shaggy haired boy asked.

Stiles' eye twitched. "Well, to save myself utterly crushing humiliation. Thank you, Scott." He paused. "Okay? So, please, can you just go up and ask if she likes me? See if her heartbeat rises, or pheromones come out."

"Fine." Scott finally sighed, walking away to find their best friend.

Stiles' mouth hung open. "I love you." He blurted. "I love you. You're my best friend in the whole world."

...

Scott found Harper a couple of minutes later talking to a girl with blonde, scruffy hair and glasses. The girl was wearing jogging bottoms and oversized t-shirt. Scott remembered that she had a seizure once in class, but he couldn't remember her name.

He knew that Harper had slept around her house a couple of times and Harper did her eyebrows for her once. He only remember that because Harper had used the tweezers on the two boys afterwards.

He moved towards them and Harper automatically looked up, smiling at her best friend. "Hey, Scotty." She chirped.

"Hey." He nodded at the girl who smiled shyly before leaving.

"See you in maths, Erica." Harper called, waving.

"Can we talk for a second?" Scott asked, scratching the back of his neck.

Harper frowned, immediately thinking the worse. "Of course. You okay?"

Scott pulled her into a classroom and shut the door. She leaned against the teachers desk. "Is this about why you ran out of the exam?" She asked gently. "You needed someone to talk to? Stiles and I are here for you, Scott."

"Just I needed to ask you something." Scott placed his lacrosse stick down on the table and stood in front of her. "Do you... Do you know if Allison still likes me?"

The brunette sighed, "of course she still likes you, Scotty."

"Really?" A small smile took place on his face for the first time that day.

"She'll always like you." She hated giving him false hope. "But, maybe just as friends for now, yeah? It sounded to me as if she needed her distance this morning. She think you locked her in there to leave her for dead. She's not..." Harper tried to think of the right word. "Grateful."

Scott looked up at her, a look in his eyes that Harper didn't yet understand. "Are you grateful?" His voice was lower than normal.

Harper's eyebrows raised. "Of course I'm grateful, Scott." She paused for a moment. "I need to tell you something about the bi-"

She was cut off by a pair of lips on her own, shocking her. Harper's entire boy felt like it had froze over in shock as she remained as still as a statue, not knowing how to react to her best friends' lips on hers. It took her a couple of seconds to build up the courage to shove him off of her.

"Scott!" Harper glared at him. "What the actual hell were you thinking?"

"You said you were grateful." He grumbled.

"I am! So, so, so grateful. But I don't like you like that, Scott! And you like Allison! I like Stiles. So never, ever kiss me again, okay?" She ran a hand through her hair. "And don't tell Stiles."

Scott stared at her. "Stiles wouldn't care." He dead-panned. "Because Stiles doesn't like you like that. Or at all. In fact, nobody likes you, Harper. Maybe you should get the next plane ticket back to England, since nobody wants you here."

— isaaclovesmexican
alisha
♡☆

thanks for the votes and comments :) they all mean the world to me, honestly

✨