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"So, you killed her?" Stiles asked, holding the door open for Scott His voice was light, but his brow furrowed slightly, processing the disturbing dream Scott had just described.

Scott shrugged, frustration tightening his posture. He pulled his phone from his pocket for the hundredth time, still no reply from Octavia about her meeting with Allison. "I don't know," he admitted. "I just woke up. And I was sweating like crazy, and I couldn't breathe. I've never had a dream where I woke up like that before."

"Really?" Stiles asked, sounding more interested than concerned. "I have. Usually ends a little differently..." His lips pressed together, cutting off the rest of his thoughts. Not gonna mention the fact that Octavia's been in a few of those dreams. No need to unpack that right now.

Scott shot him a look, visibly trying to steer the conversation back on track. "Okay," Scott began, "I mean I've never had a dream that felt that real," He looked at his friend in disgust, "Never give me that much detail about you in bed."

"Noted," Stiles replied quickly. "Let me take a guess here though-"

"No, I know," Scott interrupted. "You think it has to do with me going out with Allison tomorrow. Like I'm gonna lose control and rip her throat out."

Stiles' face twisted in mild offense. "No, of course not!" But the way Scott stared at him with narrowed eyes made him sigh in defeat. "Yeah, that's totally it."

Scott exhaled heavily, dropping his head. The weight of the situation was settling in his shoulders, pulling him down. Stiles jumped into action, his voice upbeat but layered with nervous energy. "Hey, come on, it's gonna be fine, all right. Personally, I think you're handling this whole werewolf thing pretty freaking amazingly. It's not like there's a 'Lycanthropy for Beginners' class you can sign up for, right?"

Scott gave a half-hearted nod, his thoughts elsewhere. "Yeah, not a class, but maybe a teacher."

"Who, Derek?" The name practically spat out of his mouth like something bitter. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Derek Hale? "You forgetting the part where we got him tossed in jail?"

"Yeah, I know. But chasing her, dragging her to the back of the bus, it felt so real."

"How real?"

"Like it actually happened."

Before Stiles could respond, they both pushed open the double doors to the parking lot. What they saw froze them mid-step.

Deputies were swarming the school bus, the very one Scott had just described from his dream. Yellow tape cordoned off the area, and the vehicle looked like it had been through hell. The emergency exit door hung off its hinges, jagged and twisted, while dark streaks of blood trailed across the pavement. The heavy, metallic smell of it hit them before their minds could fully process the scene.

Stiles' heart dropped into his stomach. His earlier sarcastic tone dissolved, replaced by an overwhelming sense of dread. His eyes flicked to Scott, who stood there, his expression shifting from shock to horror.

"I think it did."

"You're okay!" Octavia's voice burst with relief, nearly breathless, as she half-ran toward Allison by the lockers. Her heart had been pounding ever since she heard what happened, but seeing Allison here, safe, made it skip in pure joy.

Allison turned at the sound, biting her lip to suppress a grin. "You and Scott really are twins," she teased, eyes glinting. The amused smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. "He said the exact same thing when he saw me. Barely five minutes ago."

Octavia blinked, a little taken aback, before chuckling awkwardly. "Well, he was worried," she muttered, running a hand through her hair, trying to shake off the weird tension. "I mean...after the incident outside."

Allison's smile vanished instantly, her face tightening. Her eyes darted around, as if suddenly the school hallway felt too exposed, too close. "I still don't know how they're letting classes continue after that." Her voice was a little quieter now, her brow furrowed in concern. "Back at my old school, we'd be sent home. No question."

"Yeah...well, welcome to Beacon Hills," Octavia muttered, her tone shifting from relief to a bitter edge. She glanced over her shoulder, half-expecting something—or someone—to be lurking in the shadows. "Nothing here ever really makes sense."

Octavia had always done well in school, but high school had flipped her world upside down, especially when it came to math and science. No matter how hard she tried, the numbers blurred together, and the formulas made her head spin. Adrian Harris, with his cold detachment and snide remarks, had made it worse. Teaching wasn't his calling, that much was clear, and he never bothered to offer the extra help she desperately needed. Lydia's tutoring had gotten her through some rough spots, but even that had its limits.

Sliding into her seat, Octavia tried not to let her frustration show. But Stiles, ever perceptive, flashed her a bright, exaggerated grin as if to remind her not to take it all too seriously. This was, after all, her least favorite class.

Suddenly, Scott spun around from his seat, his face twisted in confusion. "Maybe it was my blood on the door," he blurted out.

Stiles didn't miss a beat. "Could've been animal blood. You know, maybe you caught a rabbit or something."

Scott blinked. "And did what?"

"Ate it," Stiles deadpanned.

"Raw?" Scott's face twisted in horror.

Octavia let out a dry scoff just as Stiles squeezed his eyes shut in frustration. "You stopped to bake it in a little werewolf oven. I don't know, you're the one who can't remember anything."

"Mr. Stilinski," Harris's voice cut through the air like a blade. His arms crossed, a scowl etched into his face. "If that's your idea of a hushed whisper you might want to pull the headphones out every once in a while." Stiles huffed, slumping lower in his seat as Harris continued, "I think you and the McCalls would benefit from a little distance, yes?" His tone dripped with sarcasm as he pointed to separate seats.

Stiles dragged his feet as he gathered his things, throwing a dramatic look over his shoulder at Octavia. "Remember me," he sighed dramatically.

"You're moving two feet, dummy," she replied, rolling her eyes.

"Let me know if the separation anxiety gets too much." The teacher mocked.

Before Stiles could retort, a sharp exclamation pierced the room. "Hey! I think they found something!" Harley had leapt to her feet, pointing outside. Everyone charged towards the windows as a wave of murmurs rippled through the class.

Octavia's heart skipped a beat as she followed the others, her eyes locking onto the scene unfolding in the parking lot. Paramedics wheeled a stretcher toward an ambulance, the body on it covered in a bloodstained sheet.

Scott, standing beside her, breathed out in a shaky whisper, "That's not a rabbit."

The classroom fell eerily silent as the paramedics lifted the stretcher, but before anyone could react, the figure beneath the sheet jolted upright.
Octavia gasped as she was yanked backward, colliding into Stiles' chest. The room exploded in chaos—desks scraping against the floor, students gasping and shouting, everyone's attention glued to the horror outside.

Scott's face drained of color, his body stiffening as he began backing away from the window. The terror in his eyes said it all. He thinks it's his fault.

"This is good," Stiles muttered, a desperate attempt to lighten the mood as he and Octavia approached Scott. "This is good. He got up, he's not dead."

"Yet," Octavia mumbled under her breath, still shaken by the sight.

Stiles ignored her, still trying to convince himself. "Dead guys can't do that. Right?"

But Scott's voice trembled as the weight of his guilt settled over him like a storm. "Guys, I did that."

Scott's voice dropped to a near whisper as he placed his lunch tray on the table, eyes darting nervously. "Then it wasn't a dream," he murmured, the weight of the realization sinking in. "Something happened last night, and I can't remember what."

Stiles leaned forward, eyes narrowing with suspicion. "What makes you so sure Derek even has all the answers?"

Octavia rolled her eyes, stabbing a fork into her food with frustration. "Why would the guy who didn't even change during the full moon have all the answers?" she scoffed, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Scott nodded, distracted. "Right. He was in total control while I was running around in the middle of the night attacking some totally innocent guy."

"You don't know that," Stiles said, more insistent this time.

"I don't not know it," Scott shot back, frustration and fear warring on his face. After a pause, his eyes flicked between them. "I can't go out with Allison tonight. I have to cancel."

"No." Octavia's voice cut through the tension, sharp and decisive.

"No?" Scott echoed, confused.

"You're not canceling. You can't just cancel your entire life. We'll figure it out." Stiles replied.

"Figure what out?" a voice asked from behind them. The clatter of a tray echoed as Lydia Martin slid into the seat beside Scott, her presence throwing off the already fragile balance of the conversation. The trio stared at her, wide-eyed.

"Ha... uh..." Stiles stammered, his face turning crimson as he darted a glance at Octavia, who bit the inside of her cheek to stifle a laugh.

"Just, uh, homework," Scott lied quickly, the words tumbling out awkwardly.

"Chemistry," Octavia chimed in, nodding as she fidgeted with her fork. "I'm still struggling with that."

Stiles leaned in toward Scott, lowering his voice in an exaggerated whisper, "Why is she sitting with us?"

Scott shrugged, helpless. Lydia, meanwhile, paid no attention to the tension at the table, her gaze scanning the cafeteria. Danny and a few more from the popular group were drifting toward their table.

"Get up," Jackson ordered a nearby student as he approached. Octavia found him staring and her and Lydia's chest far too often.

"Why don't you ever ask Danny to get up?" the boy grumbled.

"Because I don't stare at his girlfriend's 'coin slot,'" Danny shot back without missing a beat.

"I do," Octavia added casually, smirking as she leaned back in her chair. She shot Lydia a mischievous grin. "They look great today." Lydia beamed at her, preening under the compliment.

Jackson took his seat with a smirk, but the light mood was quickly replaced by a heavier one as Danny spoke. "So, they're saying it was some type of animal attack. Probably a cougar."

"I heard mountain lion," Jackson chimed in, as if he had some sort of insider knowledge.

"A cougar is a mountain lion," Lydia corrected, her tone sharp, betraying her usual facade of casual indifference. She blinked, catching herself, then turned to Octavia with feigned innocence. "Isn't it?"

"Who cares?" Jackson scoffed. "The guy's probably some homeless tweaker who's gonna die anyway."

Octavia's eyes narrowed, and her voice dripped with sarcasm. "That wonderful optimism we all know and love, Jackson. You're just too caring. Maybe tone it down a little." Her smile was brittle, her words sharp.

Before Jackson could retort, Stiles leaned in urgently, his phone thrust into the middle of the table. "I just found out who it is." His voice was serious now. "Check it out."

The table fell silent as everyone's eyes landed on the screen. "The Sheriff's Department won't speculate on details of the incident but confirmed the victim, Garrison Meyers, did survive the attack. Meyers was taken to a local hospital where he remains in critical condition."

Octavia's stomach dropped. "Wait, Scott..." she began, her voice tight.

"We know this guy," Scott said, his voice barely above a whisper as he stared at the phone, a mix of guilt and dread on his face.

"You do?" Allison's voice startled the group as she leaned in, her expression a mixture of concern and curiosity.

Scott nodded slowly, glancing at Octavia before explaining. "Yeah... When I used to take the bus, back when I lived with my dad. He was the driver." The mention of their father made Octavia tense, her fingers fidgeting on the table.

The heavy silence was shattered by Lydia's voice, deliberately cheery. "Can we talk about something more fun, please?" She turned to Allison with a bright smile, ignoring the tension. "Where are we going tomorrow night? You said you and Scott were hanging out tomorrow night, right?"

Allison blinked, thrown off by the sudden shift. "Um, we were thinking of what we were gonna do."

"Well, I am not sitting home again watching lacrosse videos so if the six of us are hanging out, we are doing something fun." Lydia declared.

Octavia frowned. "Six of us?" She asked as her brother asked Allison, "Hanging out?"

Lydia nodded enthusiastically. "You're free tomorrow, right?"

Octavia hesitated, searching for an excuse. "Uh... yeah, but this feels like more of a couples thing, and I'm, well... not?"

Lydia shrugged. "So? We'll find you a date."

Octavia's lips pressed into a thin smile. "Sounds... fun," she said, the reluctance clear in her voice.

Jackson, ever the charmer, snorted. "You know what else sounds fun? Stabbing myself in the face with this fork."

Octavia didn't even flinch. "That's hilarious," she deadpanned, a cold smile playing on her lips. "Do it."

"You're a terrible bowler!" Octavia exclaimed, hopping down the last stair. Her eyes glinted with amusement, "My big toe was fractured in three places!"

"I know!" Scott groaned dramatically. "I'm such an idiot."

"It was like watching a car wreck." Stiles chimed in. He shot Octavia a sideways glance, his usual smirk playing on his lips. "I mean, first it turned into the whole group date thing."

"...that I'm somehow a part of now," Octavia added dryly, tugging at the sleeve of her sweater.

"And then out of nowhere comes that phrase."

Scott tipping his head back like the memory physically pained him. "Hang out," he repeated.
Stiles ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. "You don't 'hang out' with hot girls, okay? It's like death! Once it's hanging out you might as well be her gay best friend. You and Danny can start hanging out."

"How is this happening? I either killed a guy or I didn't."

"I don't think Danny likes me very much."

"I ask Allison on a date," Scott sighed, clearly missing the humor, "and now we're 'hanging out.'"

"Am I not attractive to gay guys?" Stiles asked suddenly, as if it were the most important question.

"I make first line, and the team captain wants to destroy me, and now...now I'm gonna be late for work."

"Wait, Scott, you didn't... Am I attractive to gay gu-he didn't answer my question." Stiles whined, spinning to face Octavia. "What do you think?"

Octavia's brow furrowed, her playful expression slipping into something more serious for a split second. "Wait, you don't think I'm hot?"

"Are you kidding me?" Stiles' voice jumped an octave. He almost tripped over his own feet trying to backpedal. "Birdie, you're like... ridiculously beautiful. Everyone thinks so."

"Well, yeah, I know that," Octavia replied with mock arrogance, but there was a flicker of vulnerability in her eyes.

Stiles waved his hand dismissively. "'I'm lucky you let me breathe the same air as you."

"Stiles..."

"Seriously, you're like, blindingly beautiful." He glanced at her, then dramatically shut his eyes and turned away. "Look, I can't even look at you. I'm blind. Totally blind now."

Octavia bit her lip, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, but she quickly suppressed it. "Forget I asked," she muttered, though a faint blush betrayed her.

Stiles pulled into the back lot of the school, the dim glow of streetlights barely cutting through the evening fog. His Jeep came to a rattling stop, and the engine idled before he reluctantly turned it off. Scott hopped out first, his movements quick and purposeful. Octavia and Stiles exchanged a glance before following.

"Hey, no, just me," Scott said as they approached the fence. "Someone needs to keep watch."

"Why is it always me?" Stiles whined. His eyes flicked to Octavia for support, but she just smiled, shaking her head.

"Because Scott's the one with the fangs and claws, remember?" she reminded him. "And the terrible sideburns."

"Okay," Stiles pointed to Scott accusingly, "Why is it starting to feel like you're Batman and I'm Robin? I don't want to be Robin all the time."

"Nobody's Batman and Robin any of the time," Scott replied.

"Not even some of the time?" Stiles asked, disappointment lacing through his voice.

"Oh my god, Stiles." Octavia groaned, grabbing his arm. "Come on, let's just let him do his thing."

Scott gave a small nod of thanks as Octavia tugged Stiles back toward the Jeep. He sighed again, slumping into the driver's seat, hands gripping the wheel tightly. The silence settled around them.

Octavia slid into the passenger seat beside him, her movements slower, more deliberate. Without saying a word, she reached for his hand, her fingers gently brushing his. Stiles looked up, startled by the warmth of her touch.

"He's not going to leave you behind, you know," she said, softly.

Stiles' gaze softened as he searched her face, his usual sarcasm falling away. "What are you talking about?"

"I know how you think." Her thumb absentmindedly brushed over his knuckles. "Just because Scott's got a girlfriend and is hanging out with the popular crowd now doesn't mean you two aren't still... you know, Scott and Stiles."

"Why does his name go first, then?"

"Alphabetical order," she teased, but her eyes were serious, searching his face. "Not because you're lesser than him."

Stiles rolled his eyes, leaning his head back against the seat. "I dunno... feels like things are changing, you know?"

"Things are changing but they don't have to change between you two," she replied, squeezing his hand once more before letting go. "He's still your best friend."

"Yeah. I guess," Stiles muttered, still feeling the warmth of her hand lingering in his.

He hesitated, feeling a strange twist in his gut before blurting out, "What about you?"

Her smile faltered, and for a split second, her expression became unreadable. "What about me?"

"Are you going to leave me behind?"

The question hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. She frowned, gently cupping his face with both hands, her thumbs brushing the sides of his jaw. "You're stuck with me, Stilinski. I'd go to the ends of the earth for you. And I know you'd do the same for me."

"I would," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I'd do anything for you."

"I know." She smiled at him, but there was something in her eyes—something that made Stiles' stomach flip, though he didn't understand why. He shifted in his seat, clearing his throat.
Before either of them could say anything more, her expression shifted. She sat up straighter, tension in her shoulders. Her eyes never left his but the feeling in her gut told her everything she needed to know; "Someone's coming."

"What?" Stiles jerked forward, peering through the windshield. A beam of light cut across the lot, reflecting off the old yellow bus in the distance. Without thinking, Stiles reached for the horn, honking it in rapid succession.

Scott came bolting out from the shadows, vaulting over the hood of a red SUV before he launched himself over the fence and into the Jeep.

"Did it work?" Stiles asked as Scott threw himself into the front seat, his breath ragged.

"Yeah," Scott gasped. "I was there last night. And the blood? A lot of it was mine."

"So you did attack him?" Stiles asked, his voice rising in disbelief.

"No!" Scott rushed out. "I saw glowing eyes in the bus, but they weren't mine. It was Derek."

"And the driver?" Octavia chimed in from the backseat. She had hurried to the back when Scott began to run towards them.

"I think I was actually trying to protect him." Scott admitted, still breathless.

Octavia frowned. "Why would Derek help you remember that? Why give himself up?"

Scott shook his head. "That's what I don't get."

"It's got to be a pack thing," Stiles muttered, trying to shake the strange feeling lingering from before.

"What do you mean?"

"Like an initiation. You do the kill together."

"Because ripping someone's throat out is a real bonding experience?" Scott shot back.

"Yeah, but you didn't do it," Octavia reminded her brother, her voice firm. She glanced at Stiles for a split second, but he missed it, too wrapped up in the conversation.

"Right," Stiles nodded. "Which means you're not a killer. "And it also means that-"

"I can go out with Allison," Scott breathed, a smile starting to spread across his face.

Stiles threw his hands up in exasperation. "I was gonna say it means you won't kill us."

"Oh. Yeah, that too," Scott added, grinning sheepishly.

True to her word, Lydia had found Octavia a date. The only thing Octavia knew about him was his name—Lucas—and that, according to Lydia, he was "super cute."

Octavia sat cross-legged on Allison's bed, tugging on the hem of her black cropped sweater. Lydia's scrutiny from across the room was palpable, and Octavia was silently thankful she didn't have to deal with the full force of it like Allison was. She glanced down at her jeans, snug and perfectly sculpted to her frame. Despite how confident she usually felt in this outfit, she knew Lydia wasn't impressed.

"Pass." Lydia waved off yet another suggestion from Allison, her perfectly manicured hand slicing through the air. Octavia tried to hide a smile as Lydia huffed dramatically and took matters into her own hands, moving toward Allison's closet with the determination of a general preparing for battle.

"Let me see." Lydia's eyes flicked over Allison's clothes as she rifled through hangers. "Pass on all of it." She sighed theatrically, glancing at Allison. Pass on all of it. God, Allison, respect for your taste is, uh, dwindling by the second." She let out a sharp laugh, though it lacked warmth. Finally, she pulled out a black sequined top. "This," she declared triumphantly, holding it up with a grin.

Allison took the top, her face a mix of amusement and resignation as she stood in front of the full-length mirror. But before she could comment, the bedroom door creaked open.

Octavia's gaze flickered to the door as Mr. Argent walked in, his posture stiff as usual. He was holding a green army jacket, looking every bit the concerned father.

"Dad, hello," Allison greeted, her voice tight but polite.

Mr. Argent smiled briefly, then his eyes widened as if realizing he'd interrupted something. "Right," he said sheepishly. "I'm sorry. I completely forgot to knock."

Lydia, who had flopped onto the bed beside Octavia, leaned on her elbow in a lazy, yet calculated pose. "Hi, Mr. Argent," she said sweetly, her smile suggestive in that classic Lydia way. She twirled a strand of hair around her finger as he barely acknowledged them with a nod.

"Dad, do you need something?" Allison prompted, her patience fraying.

"I wanted to tell you that you'll be staying in tonight." His tone was firm, though there was a flicker of apology in his eyes.

"What?" Allison scoffed. Octavia exchanged a knowing glance with Lydia, who rolled her eyes dramatically. "I'm going out with my friends tonight," Allison insisted.

"Not when some animal is out there attacking people," Mr. Argent replied.

"Dad, dad—"

"It's out of my hands," he cut her off. "There's a curfew. No one's allowed out past 9:30." Allison clenched her jaw, and her shoulders sagged in defeat. She tossed the sequined top onto her bed in frustration. "Hey, no more arguing." His tone softened slightly before he turned and left, leaving the room in tense silence.

Lydia stood up, smoothing her skirt as she snorted. "Someone's daddy's little girl," she teased, her voice dripping with playful condescension.

Allison bit her nail, her eyes glinting with something mischievous as she muttered, "Sometimes. But not tonight." She grabbed a purple beanie from her dresser, pulling it over her head with defiant precision.

Octavia sat up straighter, watching Allison walk over to her window. She slid it open with practiced ease, the cool night air rushing into the room. Octavia raised an eyebrow at Lydia, who mirrored her confusion. They watched as Allison climbed onto the windowsill, swung her leg over, and nimbly landed on the roof.

"What are you doing?" they both blurted out at the same time.

Allison didn't answer, her expression determined. Instead, she took a few steps, then launched herself off the roof, twisting mid-air and landing gracefully on her feet in the yard below.

"Eight years of gymnastics," she whispered with a smirk, looking up at her stunned friends. "You coming?"

Octavia blinked, her heart racing from the sudden adrenaline. "Yeah," she muttered, sticking a leg out the window. But before she could swing herself out, Lydia grabbed her arm.

"Oh no you don't," Lydia said firmly, tugging her back inside. "We're taking the stairs. You'll break your neck."

Octavia pouted, but Lydia was already dragging her toward the door. "Come on, drama queen," Lydia sighed.

"You never let me have any fun."

"I think you might be my date." A voice, warm and confident, drifted from behind Octavia. She turned, her dark brown eyes locking onto a pair of mischievous green ones.

"I think," she paused, letting her gaze travel over his lean figure, taking in the way his shirt fit snugly over his broad shoulders. A small smile curled her lips. "You might be."

"I'm Lucas." He extended his hand, a slight tilt to his grin, like he knew something she didn't. "Sawyer. Lucas Sawyer. You can call me Luke."

Her fingers slid into his, the brief contact sending a subtle jolt of warmth up her arm. "Octavia McCall."

"Were you checking me out, Octavia McCall?" His voice dropped a fraction, teasing but curious.

She raised an eyebrow, matching his smirk. "I might have been." When the corner of his mouth tugged up into a full smirk, she didn't feel uneasy—if anything, she liked it. "Are you any good at bowling, Lucas Sawyer?"

He released a breath, glancing down at the colorful array of bowling balls. His fingers brushed against a green one that matched his eyes. "I'm terrible at bowling," he admitted, chuckling softly. "But Lydia made a very compelling argument for me to reconsider."

"She tends to do that." Octavia nodded, grabbing a sleek, blue ball that felt cool under her fingertips. "She really should be a lawyer."

"And you?" Lucas asked, his gaze lingering on her as if measuring more than just her bowling skills.

"What about me?"

"Are you any good?"

Octavia flashed him a playful grin. "Not at all." She shook her head, her dark curls bouncing with the motion. "Like you said, Lydia can be very convincing."

"How about a counteroffer?" He leaned in just a touch, his voice dropping as though this was a secret only for them.

"Go on, Mr. Sawyer." Her tone mimicked his, but her heart skipped a beat.

"We bowl a game. If I somehow manage to prove myself worthy of your time, we make an escape for the arcade."

Octavia pretended to think it over, tapping her chin, before her eyes lit up. "I like the way you think."

He grinned, the tension between them more playful now. He extended his arm, and she took it, his warmth seeping through the fabric as they walked toward the lanes. "You don't go to our school," she pointed out, her curiosity peeking through.

He nodded, slipping into the bowling shoes. "Devenford Prep. A buddy transferred from Beacon Hills—we hit up a party last month. That's how I met Lydia and Jackson."

"There's nobody who throws a better party than Lydia Martin."

"So I've been told." His eyes sparkled with unspoken stories, but his focus remained squarely on her.

Twenty-four hours ago Octavia was dreading this triple date. But watching Scott bowl like a pro and embarrass Jackson was its own reward. And now, as she talked to Lucas, she couldn't deny how much fun she was having.

Scott had started off shaky, throwing gutter balls that had everyone groaning in sympathy. But after a few whispered words from Allison, something clicked. Frame after frame, Scott knocked down pins with effortless strikes, leaving Jackson sulking and muttering excuses to himself.

Lydia, in a poor attempt to flirt with Scott, had even asked him for help. He was quick to dismiss her and when Jackson offered to help, he ended up even more embarrassed than Scott had left him.

"Things seem to be going really well," Allison whispered, as the three girls gathered at the bench to untie their shoes.

Lydia giggled and nodded. "Very well."

"Yeah," Octavia couldn't help but grin. "He's really cute."

"See!" Lydia's eyes sparkled as she spotted Lucas heading their way. She dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "I told you he'd be perfect."

Lucas strolled over, resting a casual arm on the back of Octavia's seat. "Excuse me, ladies," he said smoothly, offering Octavia a grin. "How about that arcade?"

Octavia's lips tugged into a soft smile as she nodded. "Sure."

"Wanna grab us some drinks while I return your shoes?" He stretched out his hand to help her up, his touch warm and steady as their fingers briefly intertwined. She handed him her shoes with a grateful smile, then headed toward the concession stand.

At the counter, she ordered two cherry slushies and leaned her head into her palm, letting the coolness of the bowling alley wash over her. A light touch brushed the middle of her back, sending a sudden spark through her. She looked up to see Lucas standing beside her, already handing over money for the drinks.

"Got it," he said, grabbing the slushies with a wink before leading her to the arcade. "Air hockey?" he suggested with a playful raise of his eyebrow.

Octavia grinned up at him, her competitive streak flaring. "Oh, you're so going down."

They passed her brother on the way to the air hockey table. Scott shot her a goofy grin, clearly enjoying himself. Octavia flashed him one back before turning to Lucas, her game face on.

"Let's make it interesting," Lucas said, placing the puck at the center of the table, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

Octavia raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh?"

"If I win," he said, leaning in just enough to make her heart skip, "you let me take you out again."

"And if I win?" she challenged, crossing her arms with a smirk.

His grin widened, playful and cocky. "You won't."

Octavia's confidence evaporated by the second point. Lucas moved with speed and precision, sending the puck flying past her defense over and over again. By the end of it, she hadn't scored a single point. She stared at him in disbelief, her mouth slightly open as he stood there, looking smug.

"So," he asked, propping his elbows on the table, "are you free Friday?"

Still stunned, she could only nod.

Scott wandered over, his face a mirror of her shock. "How did you do that?" he asked, looking between his sister and Lucas. "Octavia always wins."

Lucas shrugged, barely hiding his grin. "Maybe I had the right motivation."

Scott's eyes lit up with amusement as he turned to his sister. "He sooo likes you!"

Octavia rolled her eyes, ready to fire back. "Hey, Allison," she called out, her voice sly, "When we were eight, Scott—"

"We should get going!" Scott cut in, eying the group nervously.

"What? Why?" Jackson asked, frowning. "It's still early."

"Curfew!" Scott insisted, his tone firm as he steered everyone toward the door. "Come on, people. Curfew."

It was unusually quiet in the McCall house. The hum of the refrigerator and the soft creaks of the house settling were the only sounds breaking the silence. Melissa McCall, now in her well-worn pajamas, walked down the dim hallway, ready to wish her kids goodnight.

"Hey, Scott, I'm gonna go..." she began as she pushed open his bedroom door. The room was empty, the bed neatly made. "...Sleep."

Shaking her head, Melissa trudged toward Octavia's room. She tapped lightly on the door before stepping in. The bed was untouched.

"Seriously?" she muttered, glancing around at the open window before letting out another long sigh.

Melissa left Octavia's room, this time resigned to head to her own. She barely took two steps when a soft thud echoed from Scott's room. Her heart skipped, and she instinctively turned back, walking with measured steps.

Her hand brushed against the baseball bat by the door as she entered. A shadowy figure tumbled awkwardly from the window onto Scott's bed, groaning in the process. Melissa's grip tightened on the bat as she raised it, ready to swing.

"Whoa! Oh, no, no, no!" Stiles flailed, arms up in a frantic attempt to block any incoming blows.

The two screamed at each other, the chaos freezing for a second before recognition flickered between them.

"Stiles?" Melissa hissed, exasperation mixing with leftover adrenaline. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here?" Stiles repeated, panting as if her question had personally offended him.

"God, do any of you even play baseball?"

"What?" Melissa blinked, incredulous, just as Scott flipped on the light.

"Can you please tell your friend to use the front door?" Melissa glared at her son, lowering the bat but still keeping it in her grip, as if she wasn't completely ruling out using it.

"But we lock the front door," Scott said matter-of-factly, rubbing his eyes. "He wouldn't be able to get in,"

"Yeah, exactly." Melissa sighed, her patience wearing thinner by the second. "And, by the way, do either of you care that there's a police-enforced curfew?"

"No." The boys chorused like it was the most obvious answer in the world.

"No." She blinked at them, biting back a sarcastic retort. "All right then. Well, you know what? That's about enough parenting for tonight. So, Goodnight."

She tossed the bat onto the bed with a dull thud before turning on her heel and walking out, already dreaming of a stress-free night's sleep.

The room settled into an awkward quiet as Scott turned to Stiles. The weight of the air shifted as he caught the serious look in his friend's eyes. Stiles wasn't here just to break curfew.

"What?" Scott asked, pulling his computer chair closer, the playful atmosphere vanishing.

"My dad left for the hospital fifteen minutes ago," Stiles said quietly, his usual frenetic energy dampened. "It's the bus driver. They said he succumbed to his wounds."

"Succumbed?" Scott echoed, confusion settling in.

The lines of worry deepened on Stiles' face, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Scott, he's dead."

Lydia Martin was nothing close to Cupid. In fact, every date she had ever arranged for the McCall girl had ended in awkward escapes. Some ended with Octavia faking a sudden illness; others saw her sneaking out through a bathroom window. And yet, somehow, Stiles was always there—a texted away just to play the role of her getaway driver.

So naturally, as the evening stretched on and Stiles' phone remained silent, an uneasy concern settled in his chest. His fingers hovered over his screen, expecting that familiar S.O.S. from Octavia. But nothing came.

And when he pulled up to the McCall house and she wasn't home, his gut clenched tighter. No text, no call. No need to pick her up. She liked this guy.

Octavia hadn't liked someone in... well, forever. And yet, here she was, letting Lucas drive her home. Agreeing to a second date. It felt too real, too final.

As Lucas walked her to her front door, the porch light flickered, casting their figures in a warm, intimate glow. Octavia's heart raced, and not from nerves—but excitement. She'd survived a date—more than survived it. It had gone well, better than expected.

Lucas stopped at the door, turning to her with a teasing smile. "What?" he asked, eyes glittering with curiosity. "Do I have something on my face?"

Octavia shook her head with a soft chuckle. "No, it's just... I had fun. Like, actual fun."

His grin widened. "That's good. Considering we've got another date next week and all."

Her smile deepened as she looked up at him. He was standing closer now, too close maybe. "I love Lydia, I do," she said, her voice dropping slightly.

"But...?" Lucas prompted, leaning in, his breath warm in the cool air.

"But she's set me up on so many dates, and every time—every single time—I've had to fake sick, or bolt out the back. Tonight though..." Her gaze flickered up to meet his. "Tonight was different."

"And why's that?" he asked, stepping even closer. Their proximity made her heartbeat thud louder, her face warming in the soft glow of the porch light.

Before she could respond, the door swung open with a sharp creak. Both of them turned, startled. Stiles stood there, eyes wide, like a deer caught in headlights. His lips pressed together tightly, unreadable.

Octavia instinctively took a step back from Lucas, guilt flooding through her, though she didn't know why.

"Hey," she said, breaking the silence.

"Hi," Stiles muttered, his gaze flickering from her to Lucas, his expression carefully neutral. But beneath it, there was something else—something Octavia couldn't quite place. "I was just about to leave."

"Oh." Octavia swallowed, glancing between the two boys. "Um, Lucas, this is Stiles." She gestured awkwardly. "Stiles, Lucas."

Stiles barely acknowledged Lucas's outstretched hand, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Right. Hi, Mucus."

Lucas frowned. "It's Lucas—"

"Scott just left," Stiles cut in, dismissing Lucas entirely. His focus snapped back to Octavia, something intense in his tone. "He went to Derek's."

Octavia's breath hitched. The mention of Derek sent a chill down her spine. Her hand fell from Lucas's arm as her mind raced. "What? Why? Why didn't you guys tell me?"

Stiles shrugged, his posture stiff. "You didn't call."

She blinked, confused. "What does that have to do with anything right now?" Her voice rose, frustration mixing with the sudden anxiety swirling inside her.

"I—" Stiles opened his mouth, then closed it again, shaking his head as if trying to rid himself of thoughts he couldn't quite voice. His chest felt tight, but why? He wasn't supposed to care. "Never mind," he mumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Lucas, watching the exchange with growing wariness, glanced between them. "It's fine, Octavia," he said, his voice soft but edged with curiosity. "I'll see you next week."

As Lucas left, the air grew heavier between Stiles and Octavia. She pushed him back inside the house, her pulse pounding. "Why didn't one of you text me?"

"I don't know." Stiles shrugged, avoiding her gaze. He didn't understand it either—why his chest felt like it was caving in when she didn't text, why seeing her with Lucas had made his stomach churn. "You didn't call," he repeated, softer this time.

Octavia's brow furrowed. Why did it matter so much?

"Since when do I have to call you?" she asked, her voice quieter now, something almost tender in the way she spoke.

Stiles' lips twitched into a half-smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Since... never, I guess."

┗━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━┛

GOD THEY'RE SO DUMB

i have every intention of making this a gut wrenching slow burn like im ill just thinking about the plans i have for these two

𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚟𝚘𝚝𝚎