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Stiles exited the locker room, eyes adjusting from the brightness indoors to the barely-working lights of the parking lot. He’d stayed later than he’d planned, having expected Scott to practice with him but a text from Allison destroyed all of that before he’d even shown up. He’d used his hurt and anger to fuel a solo practice session that had lasted until long after the lights on the field had been shut off and he couldn’t see the ball flying into, or usually beyond, the net.
After a quick shower, he was ready to go home and spend a night playing video games and pretending to kill his so-called best friend. He was three steps away from his Jeep when a familiar prickling sensation started on the back of his neck. The sense of eyes on him he’d been experiencing for a few weeks. Trying to use the side view mirror on the driver’s side door to look behind him, he thought he saw a shadow at the edge of the parking lot.
Gripping his crosse, he whirled around to find the area around him completely empty. Reaching behind himself, he opened the door and climbed into the Jeep, crosse still at the ready. His heart didn’t stop racing until he was a couple of miles from the school. He really needed to spend less time watching scary movies and more time finding new friends.
The next morning, he dragged himself out of bed to have breakfast with his dad before racing out the door so he wouldn’t be late to pick Scott up. He was three steps away from the Jeep when he got a text from Scott saying he was getting a ride with Allison and he’d see Stiles at school. He debated just skipping but his dad was standing in the doorway of the house, uniform on and coffee in hand, a sad and knowing look on his face.
Shoulders dropped, he reached for the door handle of the Jeep, cursing himself when he found it unlocked; he must have forgotten the night before when he’d arrived home still freaked out from the experience at the school. When he got the door open, he froze, spying something sitting on the driver’s seat, the pricking sensation came back as he reached out and picked it up. He let out a thoughtful huff of air as he took in the two-pack of glow-in-the-dark lacrosse balls, as well as the one he’d lost the night before.
Looking over his shoulder, he saw a black car pulling away down the street. He knew that car, it belonged to Derek Hale, a senior on the basketball team that shared his advanced physics class. Frowning, Stiles dropped the balls into his backpack and climbed into the car, heading to school, having time to stop at the coffee shop for some caffeine since he didn’t need to pick up Scott.
The morning was a rough one and the prickling sensation kept returning but whenever he looked around, no one was paying any attention to him. The only thing keeping him going was knowing it was Bosco stick day in the cafeteria and because Scott’s last class before lunch was right next to the entrance to the foodline, he always grabbed some for both of them before they ran out. Grinning, Stiles hurried to the cafeteria, bee-lining to their usual table and stopping suddenly, someone running into him from behind.
He gaped at Scott, sitting next to Allison, feeding her a Bosco stick. As he glanced down at Scott’s empty tray, he realized that he was feeding her Stiles’ Bosco stick. Shoulders slumping, he turned to head to the food line in time to hear Greenberg shout that they were out of cheesy-doughy goodness.
“Screw this,” Stiles muttered, done with everything for the day. He headed towards the parking lot; he’d have his dad call the school and say he left with a migraine later.
He was three steps away from his Jeep when the sensation returned and he whirled around. Derek Hale was standing directly right behind him, holding something out and glaring down at his feet. “What the hell, dude?”
“Thought you might want these,” he said, shoving the white paper bag at him. Stiles took it, glancing inside to find two Bosco sticks, still warm to the touch. “I saw that Scott gave yours to his girlfriend.”
Stiles struggled for words and finally settled on, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Derek responded, finally looking up with a relieved smile, his two front teeth showing between his lips, making Stiles grin in return.
They stood there smiling at each other until Stiles remembered his plan to leave school, instead he held up the bag toward Derek. “Wanna share?” Derek nodded and they headed towards the lacrosse field, dropping onto the bottom row of bleachers.
After toasting their sticks together, they ate in relative silence. Derek broke it by jerking his chin towards the field. “Are you trying to make first line?” Stiles raised his eyebrows at him. “All the extra prac...tice.” His voice wavered when Stiles’ eyes widened.
“It was you!” Stiles shouted. “You left the lacrosse balls on my seat, too, didn’t you?” He laughed when Derek’s ears turned pink. “You’ve been stalking me, you creeper!” He shoved Derek’s shoulder playfully.
“I didn’t mean to stalk you, I didn’t know how to talk to you,” he mumbled, running his hand over his mouth.
Stiles shook his head, bumping their shoulders together. “‘Hi’ usually works.”
Derek stood up abruptly, walking away around the bleachers. Stiles gaped after him, especially when he spun back around. He approached, hands in his pockets and eyes somewhere around the Captain America logo on Stiles’ shirt. “Hi,” he said, lips quirking.
Stiles burst out laughing. “Hi, yourself,” he returned, nodding toward the seat Derek had vacated. “Have lunch with me.”
“Love to,” Derek responded, settling down so their shoulders were pressed together, smiles on both their faces.