Beacon Hills was not the first town she would have chosen to move to, yet she didn't think twice about it once she'd packed her belongings and left. Her whole life she had lived in San Diego, engulfed by the brilliant sun rays and fast paced life-style. But she had her reasons for moving, and the burden only seemed to weigh her down as she continued to think about why she'd had to leave. She couldn't afford to live in her two story home anymore now that it was just her. Not that she really wanted to either, even after they'd removed the bloodstains from the carpet of her mothers room. Riley winced, gulping back the bile that had risen to her throat. That house would never feel like home to her again and so she gathered the few things she could fit into her suitcases, keeping the left over money from her mothers life insurance to put her back on track.

She'd tried calling her father for help, but she hadn't heard from him in months. Riley had an older sister floating around somewhere, but she didn't even have a number to dial to try an reach her. It felt as if everyone she could have turned to seemed to abandon her the most in her time of need. They hadn't even returned home for their mother's funeral, much less to help her start up a new life. But Riley Haven was fiercely independent, yet terrified of being alone. She knew she could adapt to the small town easily, but struggling to go about her day as if she had never seen her mother die was what would undoubtedly cause her the most trauma. Learning to survive without the one person she was so use to seeing everyday was what she was afraid of.

If her mother wasn't there to help her, than who was?

She knew the savings would soon run out, and so she'd applied to nearly every business within a three mile radius. Not having a car at the moment was tough, but her father, for some reason was unable to make the monthly payment of the car she'd had to the dealership where he had worked, and so they'd repossessed it. The apartment complex she moved into wasn't the best either. Sure there were flower pots and swimming pools, but that meant nothing when the days turned to nights. Riley had learned real quick not to invest any kindness into her neighbors who seemed to accumulate in the parking lot late at night, doing God knows what. Riley wasn't about that lifestyle, and she wouldn't allow herself to cave into their cat-calls and rowdy behavior.

She had managed to buy a mattress off of a neighbor a few buildings away. Her studio apartment wasn't much, and the lack of interior design really made the place feel less like home. But it worked, and Riley felt like she couldn't complain. People had it way worse than she did and somehow made things work within their lives. Just because the depression seemed to congest her, didn't mean she wasn't grateful.

Being thrust into an adult lifestyle so soon had caught her off guard. She didn't know how to ration her money enough to pay the bills. She didn't know how she'd juggle work, school and a home life, but she hoped that she'd figure it out somewhere along the way. The only High School within walking distance was Beacon Hills High. She'd signed herself up for third semester classes, having to make a few calls to ensure her transcripts were transferred successfully. And even then, her school back in San Diego had gotten that screwed up as well. The Chemistry class she had taken Freshman year had gotten lost unfortunately, leaving Riley without any choice but to repeat the class with a bunch of Sophomores.

Adapting to a town she had never been in seemed like the downfall of it all.

###

###

Riley Haven kept to herself mostly, having spent the last hour in the office of her High School, arguing about the lack of extra curricular activities. 'What kind of God damn school doesn't even have a debate team?', she growled internally, rolling her eyes when the lady at the front desk had suggested joining the yearbook club or lacrosse team instead. She'd been the captain of the Senior debate team back home, and became increasingly agitated that she'd once again have to give something up. All her dedication and volunteering had put her at a remarkably high standard back home, and she would have been rewarded a scholarship for college if she had stayed.

But a free education wasn't even enough of an incentive to stay. With all that had happened, moving miles away was something she just felt had to be done. Leaving behind the chaos and the heartache was something she needed to do. For herself and for her sanity. She stared at the lock on her locker angrily, frowning from the mental exhaustion she seemed to allow herself to go through. Beginning school again from Christmas break didn't seem appropriate, especially since she'd used that break to hoard her stuff from one town to the other. She didn't expect her teachers to go easy on her, but something deep down inside hoped they'd allow her time. Riley rested her forehead against the cold metal of the locker, breathing uneasily as she tried to drown out the noise from the surrounding students. The hall seemed overcrowded and loud, clamping her eyes shut to control her breathing.

One voice in particular stood out, listening as a teenage boy feverishly approached the locker beside her, his voice hushed and frantic as he seemed to speak into the receiver of his phone. "Yeah, dad!" His tone was sarcastic and exasperated. Riley side-glanced him as he hurriedly shoved his books into his locker. "I'm definitely not lying! I don't know how your police scanner ended up in my room." His face squinted up, and Riley could tell just by his expression that he was lying. "No-nope, dad," he whined. "I definitely did not steal it. Look-" he breathed hastily. "Dad?" He huffed, pursing his lips as he imitated crackling noises. "Dad-you're breaking up!" His voice crackled once more, "Dad-I gotta go!" Crrrrrrrrck. "I love you-" crrrrrrrrrrrck.

Riley bit her tongue to keep from cracking a smile, but somehow the boy beside her had noticed her upturned lips. "Sup?" He questioned suddenly, leaning against the metal frame in what he predicted to be a cool manner. Riley's cheeks flamed, smiling to him quickly before shyly shuffling her books into her bag. "You're Reyna, right?" He questioned, squinting his eyes to appear smoldering. Stiles Stilinski was and always would be an awkward boy. His lanky frame and buzzed hair didn't peak her interests in the slightest, but this was a new school, and first impressions were what she needed to focus on.

"Riley." She corrected him. His smile fell, obviously embarrassed that he had butchered the new girls name.

His hand suddenly jutted out, inches from her face as he shook off his anxiety. "I'm Stiles." He murmured, grasping her light hand with a firm shake. His lips parted when speaking her name on his tongue. "Riley." He nodded, trying not to stare too much. To say that Riley was pretty was an understatement. He didn't know who to thank exactly for having her assigned locker next to his. "Rileyyyyyyyy," he dragged out each letter. "Rinester. Rileynaterrrrrrr." He smiled, playing with each form of words to find a nickname he thought suited her best.

"Just Riley," she murmured. "Please." 'What an awkward kid!' She scream internally, feeling slightly uncomfortable beneath his wandering gaze. His doe eyes were wide and fascinated by her, his lips parting so far that his tongue nearly slipped from his teeth.

Stiles was cute in a way. Shuffling awkwardly from foot to foot as he dropped his gaze finally. His skin was porcelain, nearly translucent between his scattered freckles. "So. . . Riley," he enunciated her name stiffly. "You're new, right? How's your day? Do you know all your classes? Met any guys you like?" His questions were scattered and quick. "Cause, you know. . ." he hinted deviously, "I have connections here with, like. . . Everybody. My dads a cop." He smiled proudly. "Thee cop, actually. He's the Sheriff."

The phone call he'd had with his father suddenly made sense, chuckling at the fact that this boy obviously didn't play by the rules of a strict father. "It's been good." She smiled, lying furiously through her teeth. "Everyone's. . ." She took a steady breath. "Nice."

Stiles noticed her school schedule crumpled within her palm, snatching it briskly as he read over her classes with hopeful eyes. "Yes!" He chanted, fist-bumping the air. His out-burst caught her off guard, watching with wide eyes as a shit-eating grin plastered over his cheeks. "We have Chemistry together." He handed the paper back to her, his index finger jabbing at the class that belonged to Mr. Harris. She forced a smile, hiding her internal aggravation as she collected her transcripts from her locker. She followed beside him, rolling her eyes at the constant questions that seemed to overlap one another. She kept her answers short and sweet, not trying to allow any personal information to slip through.

The boy was immature and a spaz, but he'd been the first one to approach her through her first day, and so she silently kept beside him as they walked. The Chemistry class was full of Sophomores, all eyeing her warily as Stiles dragged her to the table towards the back. He sat next to a shaggy-haired boy, his questions silencing as he introduced them. "Scott!" Stiles breathed, clapping his best friend since elementary school's shoulders. "This is Riley," he gestured his hand to the silently irritated brunette behind him. "Riley, this is Scott." She smiled to him, appreciating the new boy's silence and respect for personal space.

Stiles became mute momentarily, shuffling through his backpack for a pencil. "Sorry about him," Scott leaned over to whisper to her. He made it a priority of his to always ensure the people around him weren't negatively tortured by the spaz that was his best friend. "He comes off a little strong," he shrugged. "But he's a good kid." He smiled then, and the dimples within his cheeks were prominent and sweet. Scott McCall took the time from his own hectic life to ensure the new girl felt welcomed, and that was saying a lot considering that he was going through some . . . Changes.

In an attempt to regain her attention, Stiles smacked his hand across her desk. She flinched as her transcript papers fluttered, settling to the floor beneath their feet. He rushed to pick them up, muttering an apology as he scrambled in his seat. He nearly fell from his desk to retrieve each paper, causing a scene as the Chemistry teacher took notice. "Stilinski." He growled. His tone was annoyed, and Riley realized that this was probably a daily thing that the teacher had to put up with. "You done yet?"

"Not yet!" Stiles insisted from beneath her desk, fumbling to sit back in his seat as he tried to put the papers back in order. "Now I'm done." He promised, raising his thumb up as the teacher rolled his eyes, continuing on with the beginning of his lecture. "Sorry." He breathed to Riley, straightening out her transcripts. His eyes skimmed the front page he was holding, his eyes bulging suddenly. "Whoa-wait!" He gasped. "You're eighteen!?" He gawked at her, unable to see the contrast from her to his sixteen year old self. The entire classroom of sixteen year old's turned to stare, judging and accusing her with surprised eyes. She knew what they were thinking, wondering if she was slow. "How are you-"

"Stilinski!" Mr. Harris hissed, the veins in his neck pulsing as his skin became flamed. "This is your last warning!"

"Yes, sir! Got it." He shook his head, running his index finger and thumb across his lips as if he were zipping his lips shut for good. "Not another peep, I swear." Riley's cheeks burned, her brows furrowing in deep concentration to not lash out at the young boy. She'd known him for a mere fifteen minutes, and he'd already embarrassed her enough for a life time. She ground her teeth together, balling her fists in frustration. She evened out her breathing, trying to condense her temper silently. "Sorry." Stiles whispered to her.

And she ignored him. In fact, Riley ignored all of his attempts to gain her attention the rest of the period. Staring angrily at her text book to keep her eyes strained. She looked to Scott once, relaxing slightly when he'd shot her an apologetic smile. This was definitely not something she had anticipated. She wanted to breeze past her last year and a half of school so that she could move on with her life, and here sat a hyperactive child that had made it a personal goal to torment her through googly eyes and awkward questions. But she had to admit, for the first time in nearly a month, Riley had felt a tad bit lighter. She felt a sense of playfulness that came along with brutal embarrassment. It was odd for her to be angry and completely content. The feelings didn't coincide with one another so well, and that feeling collected in her lungs. It devoured the clustered mess that was her heart, and allowed her to breathe easy for the first time in a long while.

And when the bell rang, she collected her things silently, trying desperately to enjoy the small amount of lightness that the burdened pressure seemed to collect. But it seemed to disappear as his voice sounded once more. "So. . ." He said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck with detailed anxiety. "Yeah-sorry." He apologized again, pointing to her papers. "I didn't mean to out you like that." She pursed her lips, accepting his apology silently as she went to step around him. "But," Stiles followed her into the hallway as Scott ran off in the opposite direction. "I noticed you are, like, really good at Algebra." He noted, his eyes still wide and hopeful. "Do you-do you think you could, like, you know, tutor me sometime?"

His pace slowed to match hers, following her to their lockers as she tried her best to avoid his puppy eyes. This boy didn't even know her, yet he sat there with a pleading tone for her to help him out. She wanted to tell him no, to let him down easy so that he wouldn't be interested in trying to pry his way into her life anymore. But that wasn't who Riley Haven was. Sure, she was quiet and reserved. Shy even, but she was never one to let someone else struggle. She was the kind of girl who would drop anything and everything for a friend. Even if her and Stiles were not that close yet, having a friend was something she knew she'd need sometime soon.

She nodded silently, gulping the thickness in her throat that told her getting involved with this boy was a bad idea. "Yes!" Stiles bellowed, throwing his hands up in the air with excitement. A grin plastered across his face as Riley's cheeks went red from embarrassment once more. If this boy caused a scene everywhere they went, she wasn't sure if she could handle much more anxiety.

Riley felt the slightest hint of a migraine begin to form as Stiles dragged her along with him to lunch. Normally she would have opted for a moment of silence outside alone, but he was insistent about her joining him and Scott. For his age, Stiles was quite clingy. She sat across from Stiles, declining nicely when he offered her the seat right beside him. She watched as he narrowly shoveled a handful of curly fries into his mouth, still adamant about asking her questions around full lips. "So," he mumbled behind a mouthful of food. "Why'd you move here?"

'There it was', Riley thought mournfully. That was the question she was dreading the most. Her entire body began to tense, her palms began to sweat and her eyes began to sting. She shuffled uncomfortably within her seat, avoiding his gaze cautiously. "I-I um," she cleared her throat. "I just needed a change." She shrugged.

Her nails had dug into her thigh, a dull and painful throb pulsing in her skin. But that pain had nothing on the rapid ache that tore through her chest, realizing that she had revealed too much, too soon. Stiles nodded, his brows furrowing. "But why-"

His question was cut off as someone pulled out the seat beside her, looking to the shaggy haired boy from her previous class as he sat beside Stiles. A pale-faced brunette sat down timidly beside Riley, looking up as she smiled brilliantly at her with dimpled cheeks. "Hi." The girl waved her slim fingers. "I'm Allison."

She was petite, yet the muscles on her arms were well defined. Her structured features were alarmingly dainty yet strong. Her physicality was based off the years of gymnastics and archery she had taken up as a kid. And from the way Allison Argent and Scott smiled to one another, she guessed that they were in love. She was about to praise the girl beside her for how pretty she was, when a quick voice overlapped hers. "Keg party at my house tonight," Riley looked up into the green eyes of a slender red-head. "After the game of course." Lydia Martin chuckled, taking a seat on the other side of Allison.

Ragers were her thing. Everyone knew that Lydia threw the best parties, and to be invited was a blessing. She was as high as one could get when it came to the popularity food chain. Riley admired her slender hands, evenly painted a crimson red across her nail beds. Her fingers wound around those of someone else. The rigid knuckles of a boy that lounged into the back of his chair with a crooked grin. "Beer always tastes better after a victory." The boy had cropped blonde hair, his jawline strong and chin stuck up slightly. He looked to be a typical child from a rich upbringing. The watch on his wrist could easily make up for two months of Riley's rent. "We're going to slay that game tonight!"

"Unless of course," Stiles ranted awkwardly, chewing his food anxiously, "you don't." He laughed nervously, almost as if he seemed uncomfortable under direct eye contact from the jock. "Beer tastes better either way. Win or lose." Stiles tried to make small talk, and yet found himself to be digging a hole to bury his insecurities in.

"You don't sound too confident." Allison furrowed a brow. "Aren't you on the team too?"

"More like a bench warmer." The jock snarked.

"Jackson." The red-head sighed, trying to ease him out of his temper. Lydia knew how temperamental her boyfriend could get, and did not like him making a scene that could potentially corrupt her identity in the social ladder of the school. "Don't get stressed," she murmured to him lowly, her hand reaching up to rub his shoulders. "We don't want our star performer to fumble the game, do we?" Jackson Whittemore shook his head.

Riley leaned onto her elbows, pursing her lips as she made eye contact from Jackson to Stiles. "What sport do you guys play?" Silence seemed to cling to their table, hearing Jackson scrape his fork against his plate. He seemed almost appalled that she had to ask.

Everyone knew who he was. Everyone knew he was the captain of the Lacrosse team. "You're joking, right?" He snorted, knitting his brows together in accusation. Riley shook her head, a shrug lining itself on her shoulders as he seemed to react in a cocky way. He expected her to know who he was, and the fact that she didn't only made him assume that his name was not as recognizable as he'd thought.

"Actually," she rebutted, her tone slicing it's way through the tension. "I'm not."

She would not stand for assholes or bullies, especially when they were so conceited. "Lacrosse." Scott McCall murmured, swirling his spoon over his left over apple sauce. He felt the need to extract some of the tension, and ensure that she wasn't left to fend for herself against Jackson's remarks. "We're on the Lacrosse team, it's kind of like hockey but it's on grass and our sticks have nets."

He smiled gently, his jaw crooked and his cheeks dimpled. Riley could tell he was a tender person by how careful he was with others. "Isn't that called field hockey?" Riley questioned, raising a brow to the boy as his long hair fell into his eyes. She was joking with him, and somehow Scott could sense that she was only kidding, sighing in relief.

She knew what the sport consisted of, and didn't need it to be explained. Her father had played it in College, and she remembered the trophies splayed across their house growing up . . . That of course, was before her parents divorce. "Changing the subject," Allison chimed in, her doe like eyes glittering with curiosity. She was happy to find that she was no longer considered the new kid, and felt bad that Riley had taken her spot of constant attention. "Why don't you tell us a little more about yourself?"

Allison's eyes were kind and intrigued, her lips spreading into a soft smile as she waited for Riley to proceed. "Yeah," Jackson agreed with a cocky attitude, "why don't you tell us all some useless information that we'll never remember or care about?" He asked as a way of being a jackass. It was people like him that made Riley's knuckles tighten, wanting to punch that smirk right off his chiseled face. But she remained calm and collected, even allowing her own grin to raise her cheeks.

Lydia's green eyes squinted, sending him a warning look to behave himself. "Dude," Stiles opened his mouth in surprise, pointing an acussing hand his way. "Why do you always have to be such an asshole?"

"No." Riley confronted them both, nodding her head at the freckle faced teen. "He's right." She rose then as she grabbed her bag, looming over their lunch table with a sense of sarcasm and fierceness. "I shouldn't waste any more of his precious time." She looked down then, pretending to read an imaginary watch wrapped around her wrist. "If I did, that would mean he'd have to stop being a pretentious, self-absorbed dick for longer than three seconds." Watching his amused expression drop seemed to be the highlight of her day, finding it quite necessary to relay her thoughts on this arrogant jackass.

The lunch table fell silent as Jackson processed her rant, judging her with the notion that she'd only known him for a solid three minutes. But that was all it took to discover just how disgusting someones behavior truly was. And then Stiles, who sat across from her with a mouthful of fries, began to slow clap. Celebrating the victory of someone finally standing up to him, something he'd been too scared to do since the second grade. Both Allison and Scott held their lips together in a thin line, gnashing their teeth together to keep from laughing. By their expressions, Riley assumed they both thought the exact same thing. Jackson's jawline hardened, his fist encircling around his fork as he glared at her destructively. His mouth opened as if he were to retaliate, but Riley's back was already turned, swerving from their heated conversation before the words could even leave his mouth.

And suddenly, she didn't worry so much about first impression's anymore.

###

###

It took some convincing from her inner mind, but Riley finally agreed with herself to attend the Lacrosse game tonight. It wasn't because she was afraid to face that entitled snob, but because it honestly wasn't a sport that interested her. But she arrived a few minutes before the game started, wrapping her heavy cardigan closer to her chest as a cold wind blew by. Beacon Hills hadn't quite impressed her with it's weather yet, and she already knew it would never compare to San Diego's.

The crowds had already gathered in the stands, pumping themselves up for the scrimmage that was about to take place. Her eyes wandered, searching for an empty space as someone's voice overlapped the constant chatter, calling her name. "Riley!" She turned her head, already knowing where the catcalls had come from as she saw a pale skinned boy in a maroon jersey sitting on the bench, his hands waiving frantically to gain her attention. And once her eyes locked with Stiles, he beckoned her over. Jackson wasn't kidding when he'd called him 'the bench warmer'. "You made it." He huffed in an eager sigh.

"Yeah," she nodded with a sarcastic grin, "Sorry I'm late, I didn't really want to come."

And it took Stiles a minute to catch up to her level of joking, but finally let out a laugh himself. And as Riley's eyes wandered over the team, she found Stiles' shaggy haired friend Scott, with his head bent to his chest and his shoulders inhaling and exhaling slowly. Stiles could see the questioning gleam within her eye, speaking up for his best friend quickly. "He's got some anger . . . issues." He relayed casually, covering up a much bigger suspicion. "Don't worry about it," he waived him off as he directed her attention elsewhere, "he'll be fine."

Riley nodded, not bothering to question Stiles' erratic responses before Coach Finstock blew his whistle to huddle up his team. And seeing her brush off the wonder was a relief for him, because he knew tonight would be a challenging game for Scott as it was . . . But the full moon would only make it that much worse. She left him then, heading for the stands as the crowd stood and cheered for the players as they took their position on the field. And standing on the third row was a friendly brunette with a squared jaw, brown curly locks and knitted beanie. Allison waived at her with an inviting smile, even if the red head beside her seemed to glance into her compact mirror with distaste as she reapplied another layer of gloss.

Against Riley's better judgement, she took a seat beside them both.

And for the first few minutes of the game, their wasn't much for them to talk about. They kept their eyes on the players, both RIley and Allison flinching each time that Lydia belted out a cheer when Jackson got the ball. And Riley kept her eyes on the only number she recognized, number eleven; Scott McCall. He was both fast and lithe on his feet, and even being a part of first line, the players would not pass him the ball. "I think he likes you." She felt Allison suddenly nudge her, looking up to her in surprise. She followed the girls doe-like eyes until they landed on the jersey labeled twenty-four. Stiles Stilinski. It confused her for a moment, her brows knitting momentarily before her mind could register her words. "He wouldn't stop talking about what you did at lunch."

Riley felt her hands sweat in nervousness, feeling uncomfortable with the direction the conversation had sailed. "We're just friends." She insisted, if you could even call them that. She'd only known him a whole twelve hours. "And I don't tolerate assholes." She mentioned, keeping her voice low enough so that Lydia Martin would not hear.

"What you did for him was nice." Allison exclaimed finally, her porcelain cheeks rising into two divets where her dimples caved in. Riley rolled her eyes, shaking her head as her eyes continued to watch the game.

"I didn't do it just for his benefit." Riley confessed, reminding herself just how good it felt to turn the tables on the one causing the trouble. After what she'd endured recently, Riley had allowed a significant amount of pent up anger to reside within her. And instead of letting her body combust and let it rattle her bones, she'd used her mouth as a weapon instead.

And it had felt therapeutic.

And suddenly her mothers words floated into the forefront of her head, reminding her that she would always be a 'loose canon'. Her hands tensed up at the thought, choking on the words she would have said as a come back. Riley could feel her spine become rigid, her eyes raising to glance up at the moon. It was bright and full. And as she stared at it, she counted down within her head, easing her breathing to keep her panic attack at bay. They were common for her now, they always idled in her chest. Just thinking of her mom usually put a sour taste in the back of her throat.

And as she eased herself into a more manageable state, she'd lost focus on everything else. And it wasn't until the crowd erupted into a roar of applause, that she was finally able to coax herself back to the present. She watched as both Allison and Lydia stormed the field with the other mass of crowds, congratulating the winning team on their first victory of the season. She remained seated in the stands, her heated palms rubbing against her thighs as the attack wore itself thin and finally eased its weight from her shoulders. Had an hour really gone by that fast? "Did you see that?" She heard Stiles demand lightheartedly, a wide grin stretched over his teeth. "I can't believe it!" He cheered, approaching her with clenched fists as he drove them into the air in happiness.

"Did you win?" She asked, raising a brow in uncertainty.

"Did we win?" He asked, a huff of bewilderment stuck in his throat. "We literally pulverized the other team!" He hinted, splaying his arms out to the crowd of congratulating bystanders. "Scott scored the winning shot just seconds before the game ended!"

Riley nodded once before pursing her lips. "Remind me to congratulate him."

Stiles huffed with playful banter. "Remind me to remind you to get in line!" His erattic sense of happiness finally died down as Riley stood, planting her feet on the lush grass as she pulled her bag over her shoulder. "Hey," he said, touching her shoulder gently, "you're not leaving, are you?" He asked, his whiskey colored eyes almost torn. "Please tell me you're at least going to Lydia's party?"

His expression was hopeful and his eyes insistent. "I kind of insulted her boyfriend earlier." Riley reminded him with a crooked grin. "I think I may have uninvited myself."

She made her way to step around him, heading for the parking lot only to have him prop himself between her and freedom. "C'mon!" He pressed, unable to keep his spastic movements still for longer than thirty seconds. "Everything that you said at lunch, it's what we were all thinking . . . Lydia included." He tried to justify her actions eagerly. "And besides," he rose a hand to scratch the back of his ear nervously, "she can't, ya know, throw you out if you're like, I don't know, there with me." He stuttered.

'There it was', Riley thought mindfully, 'the proof that what Allison said was true'.

She had to admit that this kid was ballsy. That this Sophomore who was two years younger than her had the nerve to ask her to a party. Was he that confident? Or that stupid? Riley had yet to determine it herself. His eyes were wide and waiting for her response, almost as if he were positive she'd say yes. Maybe he was stupid after all. The vein within Stiles' neck throbbed painfully, his heart beating so fast that he was sure the moon was affecting him just as bad as it was Scott. His palms were sweating, tucked into his Lacrosse shorts as he rolled back and forth onto the balls of his feet nervously. He gave her his puppy dog eyes, what kind of girl could turn down his puppy dog eyes? Beside Lydia Martin herself, obviously. "So . . . " He trailed off after a moment of awkward silence, her answer still not being voiced, "Is that a yes?"

In all honesty, she probably would have gone just to give herself something to do, but she had plenty of other things to do. Like grieve and guilt trip herself into facing the reality of her mothers recent passing. And so she thoughtfully declined. And he could see the answer on her face the moment she finally decided it, pursing his lips in defeat as he let his eyes shift to the ground in embarrassment. 'Did I really think I could reel in a girl like her?' He thought to himself.

"I'm sorry." She apologized, shifting out a hand to his jersey covered shoulder. "I've just got so much unpacking to do," she lied easily as she let him down as softly as she could. The freckles on his cheeks aligned as a small and sad smile slipped between his plump, tangerine lips. He understood only vaguely, not realizing that she hadn't taken much with her when she'd moved. And even if she hadn't told him the truth about wanting to be alone to grieve, Stiles would have understood that better. He knew what grieving felt like, having lost his own mother nearly six years ago. "Maybe next time." She promised with a playful nudge to lighten him back up.

Little did she know that Stiles took promises very seriously.

###

###

The wait for the ladies room was unbelievable, shifting from one foot to the other uncomfortably until it was her turn. By the time she'd finally made it out of the four walls of clustered woman of all ages, she'd realized she'd missed the last bus back home. She groaned tiredly, shuffling her phone back into her bag with slight aggravation. Not having a car was a huge inconvenience. And with that, she made her way across the nearly vacant parking lot as she mentally prepared herself for the three mile walk back to her apartment. It wasn't that three miles was a long distance for her, having come from a track team back in San Diego, but the fact that it was such a late hour in a town she barely knew. Of course she'd heard about the recent animal attacks in various locations of Beacon Hills, but she figured her odds couldn't have been so bad that she'd end up as a late night snack for a vicious mountain lion. Or maybe there were wolves, but as far as she knew, wolves hadn't been in California for the last sixty or so years.

Trailing along the parking lot, heading for the side walk on the opposite side of the school, Riley wandered under a street light as it beamed down on the car she was passing below. It's metal frame was curved and aerodynamically suited for speed. It was a car her father would have liked. And just the thought of her dad made her feet fumble to a stop, her eyes narrowing at how the black paint reflected her idling before it. And it made her sad to think about him, wondering where he was that he couldn't have attempted any contact with her in the past year. The sports car before her only acted as a reminder of the hobby she and him both shared. Their love of fast cars had kept them undeniably close for the past twelve years. Whoever owned this car must have shared that same ideal.

The drivers side window was rolled down, keeping a far enough stance away that her admiration wasn't too suspicious. The leather seats were Italian, almost looking custom stitched to the drivers liking. The dashboard was spotless and in perfect condition, an aftermath of a meticulous driver. And all the while, her hand had mindlessly reached out to graze the sleek frame on the handle of the door. "I wouldn't touch that," A deep and demanding tone suggested, "Not unless you want to keep that hand." Riley's mind was pulled back to the present, yanking her arm back as she cradled her wrist to her chest in shock. Her eyes darted from the car before her, to the gentleman approaching her from the right. Her feet remained paved to the road as he stopped a few feet from her, his thick brows angled downward and his green eyes narrowed at her in a threatening glare. He was seething at the idea of someone else handling his car besides him. "Didn't your mother ever teach not to touch what isn't yours?"

Riley eyed him specualtively, he couldn't have been much older than her. His leather jacket was snug over his curved shoulders, his body both muscular and tall. Riley ground her teeth together at that comment, "My mother taught me a lot of things," she sneared, "like not to talk to strangers." She kept a firm stance, knowing she should have just apologized and fled. But something about his approach made her defend her actions.

It was him that broke their direct line of sight first, looking down before shaking his head with a humorless laugh. "But attempting to steal a car is just fine?" He accused, a slight hint of humor now gracing his voice. For the amount of stress he'd taken on lately, this seemed to ease the tension off his burdened shoulders. And as the girl before him flustered for an explanation, he took a second to let his curious eyes take her in.

Despite their town being overcast, she held a pretty decent tan. Her hair was the same shade as the cocoa his grandmother use to make him when he was a child, but flecks of caramel streaks curled into delicate wisps over her chest. She was petite, so fragile looking that he was sure a strong gust of wind could carry her away. But he was wrong. Beneath her peachy complexion were muscles from years of track. And the beauty mark between her nostril and plump lips was only visibly because of the slight tilt of her head, casting a dark shadow along the curved tip of her nose. Her cheeks were full but her jawline slim, her hazel eyes defensive and her brows arched. "I wasn't going to steal it," she exclaimed, "can't a girl just admire a car in an empty parking lot?" Riley crossed her arms over her chest as the man took another small step forward.

His onyx colored hair was ruffled and his cheeks cast in five o'clock shadow. He looked exhausted, but none the less, he played along with her in a steeled manner. "There are ways to admire something without looking suspicious." He reminded, shifting his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. They began to tremble, and even after all this time he still had moments of weakness beneath the curved fullness of the moon above. He watched as her cheek rose stiffly, her teeth glittering as she looked back to his Camaro. "Don't get too attached," he suggested, "It's not for sale."

A sarcastic huff of air escaped her throat. "Good." Riley commented. "I'd never be able to afford this thing anyway."

He kept his own stance firm and rigid, hoping his curt manner would make her move along. Derek Hale had more to worry about than a teenage car enthusiast. Allowing his eyes to stray away from her, he glanced around the deserted parking lot in misunderstanding. They were the only two remaining. He clenched his teeth, his brows knitting together, surely she wasn't stupid enough to be walking home this late at night? "Headed home?" He finally asked, trying not to notice the way her hands tightened around the strap of her purse. Did this girl finally realize how alone they were? How he could easily mug her if he wished. He could see the goosebumps rise along her arms, her shoulders quivering from the cold. "Where's your car?" He asked, keeping his tone soft and careful once he could sense she'd become uneasy. "A girl like you must have impeccable taste in automobiles."

And it worked, because her comfort level retracted back to a fairly manageable position. "I know a nice car when I see one." She agreed.
It felt almost odd to him, to be stranded in a parking lot with a girl a few years younger than him, and not feel irritated. It had been years since he allowed himself the openness of speaking so freely and direct to a complete stranger. He knew better than that, but he couldn't help himself.

Just when he thought he had the final word, she was witty enough to one up him every time. "Perhaps I'll suspiciously admire yours in return?" He quipped.

Riley bit her cheek, trying not to let an embarrassed expression cross over her features. What would he think if he found out her car had gotten repossessed just a few weeks prior? Of course he wouldn't have known, because he was not aware of the situation she'd left behind. "There's nothing admirable about public transportation." She laughed once through her nose, feeling the cold wind bite at her heated cheeks.

Derek's expression seemed to change, rolling his eyes internally at her statement. "The buses have stopped running by now." He acknowledged with a firm nod. But something about her expression ensured him that she was well aware of that fact. "Don't tell me you're walking home?" He finalized, his eyes widening in outrage when she simply shrugged. "Have you not heard about the animal attacks?"

This girl had no clue about the dangers that lurked in the shadows. She was oblivious to the chaos that idled on every street corner. Derek Hale was well aware of the kind of monster that roamed the town, and how appealing it felt like to think of sinking it's teeth into her flesh. And that troubled him severely, to see her standing before him and then thinking about waking up in the morning to see her picture on the news, the headline indicating that another person fell victim to the vicious predators stalking Beacon Hills. He was so well aware of the unmeasurable suffering this town could bring, and despite hating this town and all of it's simple reminders of what he'd lost, he could not bring himself to not care about it's occupants.

To want to be the one saving people, even when this town turned it's back on his own family. But he could hear the words of his recently deceased sister, Laura, 'You shouldn't need a reason to help people, Derek. It's been ingrained into who you are'. And his sister had been right. Even after the torment this town had offered him, he was still the same person he was years ago. He still cared about the lives of people surrounding him, especially when they were as innocent as hers. He retracted his keys from his pocket, taking three sudden large steps forward as he opened the driver side door. "Get in." He demanded without looking at her.

Riley faced him as he slipped into his seat and dug his key into the ignition. Her feet remained planted on the asphalt, her arms crossed over her chest and her expression unsure. Derek Hale revved his engine twice before looking toward her through his open window. "Get. In." His tone was demanding, making the hairs on the back of her neck straighten briefly. She hadn't even known him a full ten minutes, and he was already asking her to get in his car. What were with the people in this town and being so bold?

She didn't immediately say no, but something told her that perhaps she shouldn't say yes either. "I'd rather walk, actually." She confessed as she shifted from one foot to the other, her boots crunching against the debris along the pavement.

Derek shook his head, squaring his jaw to keep himself calm and collected. "I said get in." He murmured, feeling the anger from the rising moon fuel his temper. "I'm not going to ask you again." He could feel the deliberation collecting in her frame, trying to pinpoint an action that wouldn't settle well with her. "Or you can walk home," he reminded carefully, "If you even make it that far."

His threat seemed to put a rise in her. "What does that mean?" She snarled.

"It means," he huffed without humor, "good luck defending yourself against a mountain lion, Dumbass." 'Good luck trying to defend yourself against an Alpha', he relayed internally. He hadn't meant to be so vulgar, but her stubbornness was getting on his very last nerve. And his name calling drew her back, scoffing at his audacity as she glared at him through his open car window. "Last chance." Riley bit her lip, turning her head to the side as she scanned the deserted parking lot again. Her eyes trailed even further out past the sidewalk, skimming over the darkened tree line of the woods across the street. 'What could be hiding in there?', she wondered to herself.

And as she weighed her options, she came to the main conclusion. The abrasive man behind the wheel made her cower in discomfort, but the idea of a lurking lion made her cower in fear.

Clunking her boots furiously against the pavement, she made her decision. Stomping towards the passenger side door, Derek let out a sigh of relief as she slipped into the cab of his warm car. He hated that this girl made him flustered, even worse is that she made him care. Why was it his responsibility to make sure she got home okay? What possessed him to care enough to drive her home? He waited, watching from his peripheral as she buckled herself into her seat and shifted as far as she could from him. 'Good', Derek thought, 'you should be afraid of me'. "Where to?" He asked, his nostrils flaring as he breathed in a crisp whiff of her scent. It was honey and lavender, embedding itself into the interior of his Camaro and the back of his mind. He could feel the hatred already rising for the girl fidgeting in his presence, hearing the crack of her knuckles as she relayed directions.

A moment of tension passed as Derek headed to her destination, his knuckles craning against his skin as he tightened his hold on the steering wheel. He tried to watch the road, but couldn't help that his eyes shot nervous glances to her from his peripheral every few moments. "I don't recommend being out this late at night," he suggested carefully. "Not until they kill whatever's out there." 'Not until I kill whatever's out there', he thought boldly.

"Noted." Riley answered in return, taking his words into deep consideration.

And she didn't speak again the whole ride back, her fingers fidgeting with the lace at the end of her scarf to keep her mind preoccupied. But Derek couldn't do the same, he could not control his thought process as he allowed it to circulate around this one insignificant girl. 'Just this one time', Derek chanted in his mind, 'Just this one time and I'll never have to see her again'. He had much bigger things to worry about than to fluster himself with the idea of this stubborn High School student. Between keeping tabs on Scott McCall and the lurking monster that's been killing people over the past few weeks, he had more than enough to keep his mind off of her, but even now he could tell it would be hard, and that was what was so scary about being in her presence.

And after a few miles of silence, Riley prompted him to turn into her apartment complex and where to stop. Derek's foot idled on the break peddle, trying to relay the message to his hands to finally relax. His eyes roamed over the dark parking lot, deciding that it did not seem like a safe place for a girl like her. The building was put together so poorly, and for a moment he wondered why she lived here and who she lived with. Riley's hand idled on the door handle, pausing for a moment as she looked to him briefly. "I didn't catch your name." She concluded.

Derek's lip twitched for a second, then glanced to her with an insistent gleam within his eye. "That's because I didn't mention it." He responded, turning back to look out of the windshield so he wouldn't drown in the lavish hazel forest encircling her pupils. "And it's none of your business."

Riley's gaze dropped from his, looking down at her hands as she pursed her lips. "Well," she sighed, "Thank's for the ride, none of your business." She pulled the lever to the door then, shifting one leg out of the car before glancing to him one last time. "And in case you were wondering," she announced freely, "my name is Riley."

He didn't speak, but waited until her car door slammed to look back at her retreating form. Riley approached the stair well, taking the steps two at a time until she reached the second level, still completely viewable from the parking lot that he idled in. He waited until she placed her key into the deadbolt, and headed inside before he finally released the breath of air he'd been holding. "Riley." He let the name bubble softly from his lips, liking the way it slipped through his teeth.

It left a sweet taste in his mouth, one he knew would be hard to swallow.