a/n: Hello readers! It sure has been a while… sorry about that, but college is my priority right now. Unfortunately, I rarely have time to focus on my creative writing, but that will change this summer—no summer classes for me!

Quick note: I've gone through and revised chapters 1-15 for your reading pleasure. While going back and rereading isn't required, I have changed a few things in an effort to refine this story. I hope you like it!

I'd also like everyone to know that I'm planning on starting a Captain America fic soon. It will be set during WWII, and my OC is based on the women I wrote a research paper on last semester. One of my majors is in history, so I'm pretty excited about this one. It will be Bucky/OC, so, if you're into that sort of thing, keep an eye out!

Shameless self-promo aside, please review! I get lots of favorites and new followers, but I hardly ever get reviews! I love you guys, but you've got to throw me a bone.

Enjoy!

I don't own Teen Wolf for any recognizable events, places, or characters.

Mondays are the worst. It's a common belief for a reason, people. While we could totally petition to get rid of Mondays, that would only end in us hating Tuesdays, and Tuesdays deserve better.

My favorite day is probably Wednesday. Well, it used to be "probably Wednesday," but now it's officially Wednesday. Either it's officially Wednesday, or it's officially March 21st…or it's both because I honestly don't need to get hung up on the specifics.

What exactly made Wednesday, March 21st, 2012 my favorite day? Well, that's easy.

To start, the day wasn't much different from most other days. I was still healing from the Kanima attack, and still reeling over the fact that I was the type of person who could use the word Kanima in a sentence in a literal sense. Other than the paralysis-by-scaly-monster incident, my week had been rather uneventful, and I would even go so far as to call it gloomy. I hadn't seen Isaac since our Big Talk, and I was worried about him. So far, I'd taken the whole werewolf business very well, but this new development also gave me more cause for concern over his safety.

I hadn't even received any texts.

Between work and school and family duties, I hadn't had a chance to drive by that godforsaken warehouse and force him to speak to me, either.

Nonetheless, I got dressed that morning in a fog of my usual morning grogginess. Shirt over head, arms through holes, pants on one leg at a time, and don't forget the zipper. The weather app predicted that March 21st would be chilly, so I pulled on one of my many comfortable cardigans before grabbing my backpack and making my way downstairs. I had little time to spare, so I stole a granola bar from the pantry and rushed out the door to the bus stop.

Miranda wasn't her usual chatty self, but I suspected that she'd been up most of the night doing homework or playing some PC game with Danny. They consistently tried to pique my interest with said games, but the only one that ever had any effect was Minecraft. Now that was a game I could play for ours. Peaceful, pretty, and I had complete control over whether or not a monster was going to eat me.

I enjoyed the relatively quiet bus ride that morning. Normally, I wouldn't be keen on being alone with my thoughts, but the past weekend had given me a lot to think about other than my own insecurities. Most of my inner monologue revolved around Isaac, whether he was okay, and whether he'd be at school. The day before, I'd made a promise (with myself) not to text him anymore. No one wants a reputation as a clingy girlfriend.

Finally, we arrived at school. I shook Miranda awake, as the girl could sleep anywhere and not even a bumpy bus ride could deter her when she was deprived. We funneled into the school with our fellow students and parted ways as we headed to our respective lockers.

That's when my day got interesting.

Standing at my locker, looking white as a sheet, was Isaac Lahey. Aside from his complexion, he looked absolutely delicious. His hair was perfectly messy, eyes bright as ever, and his mouth still looked perfectly kissable even with his frown. I was about ten feet away when his eyes whipped toward me, scanning my figure, my entire being—looking for something that I couldn't decipher from the look in his eyes. He seemed to be satisfied, though, as his expression immediately relaxed.

Then our eyes met.

God, I know it's cheesy. I've read all the books, seen all the movies and shows… I know that what happened next was a complete cliché. That being said, the veritable cheesiness doesn't make that moment any less perfect. As our eyes met, I swear my world stopped. The storm brewing in his irises was breathtaking, even more so than that smile I love so much, the one that crinkles the skin around his eyes and brings his eyebrows upwards in an invitation—to laugh, to smile, to do whatever will keep that smile on his face as long as possible. No, no, his eyes in that moment were even better than his smile.

I realized that in all the time I'd spent worrying about him, I hadn't even considered how worried he could have been about me. Who knows what he'd been up to over the previous two days, but whatever it was it had kept him in the dark in regard to my health post-Kanima attack. While I could have been grossly overestimating how much he cared for me, the expression on his face paired with the way he was swiftly gliding across the hallway toward my prone form said otherwise.

Soon enough, I was startled out of my reverie. I was in the air. Well, I wasn't levitating. I had been lifted by two very strong, comforting arms, attached to a boy whose intent was to bring me close to him while also maintaining eye contact. My comparatively short stature called for him to hoist me into the air, and I gripped his shoulders for some extra support even though I knew his lycanthropic strength could hold my weight and then some.

I was wide-eyed and red-faced, and I'm sure my giggle-snort-combo was described as nothing short of obnoxious by my gossipy peers, who at least had the decency not to stop and stare at us. Granted, they were probably preoccupied by the usual suspects: lack of sleep, incomplete homework, and whatever strange/supernatural event had occurred over the last 24-72 hours.

"Isaac," I tried not to sound breathless, but most likely failed. "You're back!"

He touched his forehead to mine in a surprisingly tender gesture, and I smiled up at him shyly. While we both had instigated public intimacy before, this moment carried more weight than the others and probably deserved more privacy, but we didn't really give a damn.

"I'm glad you're okay, Margaret," the earnestness of his tone was conveyed, also, in his eyes. "And I'm sorry I wasn't there to protect you."

"Isaac, there's no way you could have known the Kanima would come after me," I brought my hand to his cheek and stroked it softly. "I don't blame you, so you shouldn't blame yourself. Besides, I escaped with only some minor scratches and bruises. Far better off than Scott's mom, who was emotionally traumatized. Honestly, can you imagine what it's like to be kidnapped by a giant lizard man, watch your son get shot—with a real gun!— then watch your son turn into a wolf man all in one night! I don't blame her for being a little sha—"

My rant was interrupted by Isaac's lips on mine. They were soft, and they definitely had something to say, but I was too taken off-guard to interpret the meaning behind his motions. By the time I started kissing back, he was pulling away. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and I knew my expression mirrored his. I didn't even notice that we were alone in the hallway, but later I'd be glad that my classmates hadn't witnessed yet another surprise-smooch session.

"Hey, interruptions are rude even if the person doing the interrupting is a phenomenal kisser, mister," I scolded. His smile fully manifested, then, and I could detect a small blush on his cheeks. At this moment, mind you, I was still about a foot off the ground. As I realized this, his nose found itself in the crook of my neck and his arms tightened in a hug. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders with one hand reaching up to run my fingers through his soft, curly hair. I could have sworn I heard him make a soft, though definitely non-human, noise of contentment and I smirked into his neck. I turned my head slightly and placed a small kiss right under the ear I'd bitten over a week earlier.

Now, that was definitely elicited a growl. No doubt about it.

"Babycakes," I said into his t-shirt and laughed lightly at his groan at hearing my favorite nickname. "I need to get to class soon or I'll get in trouble. You don't want me blaming you for detention."

"True," he replied as he let me slide back down to the ground and pull away. His hands found mine, but I immediately missed his warmth and had to resist the urge to nestle back into his chest. "I'd walk you to yours, but I also have to avoid being late. If my hearing serves me, we have about a minute before the final bell rings."

I let out an overdramatic fake cough. "Nerd," I stated, with a wink.

He rolled his eyes.

I disconnected our laced fingers, and reached up to pat him on the cheek before sauntering off towards my first class. It took all my strength to concentrate on overtly swaying my hips and not looking back at him. I didn't have physical qualities that called for pride, but I knew for a fact that my ass looked great in those jeans and I wanted to make sure he knew it, too.

To most, that simple interaction wouldn't be enough to make a day momentous. I can respect that, but for me that moment meant…the world. The sheer, pure emotion communicated through his embrace had me giddy. If I had any doubts about whether Isaac Lahey truly felt anything for me, they'd been thoroughly beaten to a pulp by that hug. And it was so much more than a hug.

It had only been two and a half weeks since Isaac and I were assigned as lab partners, and a week since we'd become "official." I had no clear reason for why I felt so strongly so quickly. In all honesty, my feelings for Isaac were embarrassing. While they weren't quite love, not by a long shot, I could feel myself becoming attached to him. I cared for him deeply, thought about him all the time, and somehow I wasn't completely terrified of the fact that he could rip me to shreds at any given moment.

Because I knew he wouldn't.

I don't know how I knew, I don't know why I trusted him so much. The graveness with which he spoke about trust, and his fears, and guilt spoke to the fact that Isaac wasn't just messing around. It's not at all what I expected from a relationship, a high school one at that, and at times it seemed like he was trying to tell me something. His underlying meaning, if there was one, went completely over my head.

All I could say was that I was well on my way toward being completely smitten with him. Never before had I felt so connected to someone who wasn't a family member or Miranda. It was inexplicable, but I didn't have a single regret. I sat through my first class, AP Art History, with a large smile on my face. I tried to focus on Germen expressionism and Die Blau Reiter, but every thought led back to Isaac and how perfect it felt to have his arms wrapped around me.

Like I said, embarrassing. If Miranda could have heard any of this lovesick crap, she would have never let me hear the end of it.