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It was fine.
Really, it was.
Paige has finally got the man of her dreams. And what a man it was. Derek Hale, ladies and gentlemen. Built like a brick house (as was everybody on the lacrosse team), smart and so, so damn fine. His “bad boy” vibe along with a leather jacket and a disarming smirk made every girl and some of the boys in Beacon Hills High sigh dreamily and flutter their eyelashes.
Paige was doomed from the start. They all were.
Despite his attractiveness, he was kind of an asshole. He was rude to everybody, his gaze was uncaring, words were cold and sharp; he loved getting into fights, although maybe it was part of the teenage peacocking and general roughhousing.
But… Paige had always tried to see the good in people. She often fantasized that one day Derek would notice her and she would be the one to discover the soft side of him and reveal to the world that a shy and gentle boy was hiding beneath the growly exterior.
Derek had his group of friends, consisting of Boyd, Reyes and Lahey — all of them just as asshole-y as Hale. Oh, and, of course, that annoying little shit, Stilinski.
Hale and Stilinski went way back. They’ve known each other forever and were practically inseparable. Best friends forever, package deal, that kind of shit. There were even rumors about them dating, but Stilinski had always proclaimed very loudly about his crush on Lydia Martin, so the rumors always died down rather quickly.
But you could see where they were coming from; Stilinski was always in Derek’s orbit, squirming and flailing, so Derek had to physically restrain him by throwing an arm around his shoulders. Derek was a true hero, really, saving people from accidental knock-outs by Stilinski’s flying hands. Hale was never annoyed by him, actually, which probably came from knowing each other for so long. The old friends often entertained themselves by judging people from afar, which led to Stilinski’s insufferable giggling and devastatingly beautiful smirks from Derek, which was the only thing that made Stilinski kid tolerable. He made Hale smile.
Hale and Stilinski often drove to school together, either on that beat-up blue Jeep or the gorgeous black Camaro. They sat together at lunch, sharing food and company. Even their lockers were close.
Thus, anyone who had ever dreamed of bagging Hale (or, God forbid, Stilinski), knew they would have to share.
Paige didn’t think it would be that big of a deal. Until Derek asked her out.
***
She was riding on high the entire week.
Derek had cornered her after his lacrosse practice and asked quietly if she would like to go out with him. He behaved so differently, too; clenched jaw, eyes on the ground, hands in the pockets of his tight jeans.
Paige’s heart melted into a puddle right then and there. She was right. Derek Hale was just shy!
So, of course, she said yes, barely restraining herself from squealing from happiness.
They went to a nice ice cream place; she had even got to ride in the famous Camaro, desperately trying not to think about what could be done in the backseat.
Derek was a perfect gentleman with his polite smiles and kind words. Paige knew it, she felt it — she was the one to melt his cold heart.
And even though, when Derek brought her home that evening and didn’t linger even for a small kiss from her, Paige didn’t care. There will be time for everything. Everyone will be sooo jealous! Especially—
***
Stilinski.
What a pain in the ass, seriously.
He was always there, talking and talking and talking, interrupting nearly every conversation that Paige tried to start. Paige knew there was something more there, underneath the endless blabbing and useless facts. Sometimes, she caught his lingering looks and she would be maybe a little bit flattered, if not for the hatred and disdain in those big brown eyes. Stilinski watched her like a hawk and it made Paige very uncomfortable, but…
She was determined not to be one of those girlfriends, who forbid their partners to socialize and kept them in metaphorical cages. Stiles was an important part of Derek’s life and she would have to deal with it like a big girl. Paige would force a smile despite Stilinski’s annoyed eye-rolls, and start a small talk, politely ignoring his frustrated sighs.
Derek… didn’t really do anything to ease the tension, even though it was between his girlfriend and best friend. He indulged Stiles in his rants, which was counterproductive, in Paige’s opinion. It was just him being a good friend. Sometimes, though, when Stilinski started to jab insults at Paige, Derek would catch his hand and squeeze lightly. The insults stopped immediately. And that was Derek being a good boyfriend.
***
“Sorry, I’m late, I know, I know!”
There went the calm and relaxed afternoon, right out of the window.
She was sitting right next to Derek in a small diner, ready to have a nice chat with his friends Boyd, Erica and Isaac. They actually seemed friendly, compared to Stilinski. So what if Boyd apparently refused to talk, Erica had too much cleavage on display and Isaac didn’t know how to say anything without a healthy dose of sarcasm. At least, they didn’t behave like an unsupervised child on too much sugar. Speaking of…
Stilinski was late, so Paige had hoped he wouldn’t come at all, but alas. He barged into the diner, making the administrator wince, because yes, with arms and legs like those he was bound to break something.
Huffing, Stiles stumbled to their table and immediately went to greet everybody; he hugged Boyd from behind, then smacked a kiss on Erica’s cheek, which made her grin in delight and ruffled Isaac’s angelic curls, completely ignoring the boy’s indignant cursing.
Paige didn’t expect anything from him, so she wasn’t surprised at the silent treatment. But, maybe, Derek would… say something?
She was feeling bold enough to scoot a little bit towards her boyfriend on her chair and hesitantly put her hand on Derek’s forearm. She raised an expectant eyebrow and looked at Derek, who… was smirking at his friend’s antics. His eyes crinkled and the corners of his lips turned up a tiny bit, as if he was pushing down a fond smile, but couldn’t quite help himself. He didn’t even notice Paige’s trembling hand praying for attention.
“So, where do I—” Stiles looked around for a free seat, but the diner was full, and there were clearly not enough chairs at their table. “Guys!” he pouted theatrically.
Erica grinned, biting her red lip.
“You can always sit on somebody’s lap, Batman, come on. Not like anybody’s gonna be against that,” she wiggled her eyebrows.
“My Catwoman,” Stilinski put a hand on his chest, “you flatter me, really, but I’m too—”
He squeaked and barely avoided flipping the food off their table when Derek suddenly grabbed him by his waist and promptly sat him down on his own lap.
“Now can we eat?” Derek grumbled, clearly not caring about the image he and Stilinski painted together.
Paige was stunned. Nobody was batting an eye on this ridiculousness like it was an everyday deal to see Stilinski comfortably swing his arm around Derek’s broad shoulders for support and start digging into Derek’s food. How da—
“Where’s the—” Stilinski shoved the packet of fries aside.
“They’ve run out of cheese sauce, I’ve got you—”
“The sweet chili one,” Stiles glanced playfully at Derek from above, “oh, you know me so well,” and proceeded to tweak his earlobe. Derek retaliated immediately by pinching his butt, which led to Stiles’ squawking.
“Will you two dipshits stop flirting with each other?” Erica asked, digging into her own burger. “Some of us are trying to eat.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Derek growled at her, baring his teeth. Stiles slapped his shoulder and started asking Boyd about his grandma and something about bridge and pie recipes.
It seemed, nobody had noticed Paige, quietly sitting beside her boyfriend. She didn’t really understand what they were talking about, nor the inside jokes between Stilinski, Reyes and Lahey. She felt like an outsider and, upon glancing at Derek, who may as well have forgotten about her, nobody was going to even try to include her in their conversation.
It was alright. She was just new to them. It was to be expected.
Paige tried not to think about the casual intimacy Derek was displaying openly towards Stilinski. Not when she could count on one hand the times when he held her hand for more than one minute.
***
It was the night of the game. Big game, the last one before they graduated. The school stadium was crammed full of proud parents and excited high schoolers, ready to scream their lungs out for their favorite team. The players were getting ready to get out on the field, jumping and roughing up with each other to expel the pre-game jittery energy.
Nobody even cared to listen to what Finstock was trying to yell at them.
Paige had decided to go down the bleachers to wish Derek good luck. Girlfriends did that, right? Kiss their partners for good luck. Not that they’ve…
Paige swallowed down a nervous disappointment and reminded herself to be mindful. Not everybody was quick to fall into intimate parts of a relationship. You’d expect someone like Derek — a jock, a bad boy, a local heartthrob — to jump into bed right away, but he wasn’t like that. He needed time and Paige was giving him that, despite the pining and hunger for his touch.
But she could nudge him a little, maybe to give him a hint that it was alright, that he could trust her. Paige was in love with Derek for so long. She would handle his heart with the utmost care.
Finally, she saw him standing near the wall, quietly observing the crowd with a frown. His arms were crossed on his chest, making the muscles budge deliciously. Paige couldn’t believe that this was hers.
“Hi, Derek.”
He turned to her and his frown deepened.
“You should go find yourself a seat.”
Paige looked down at her twisting hands.
“My friends got it for me. I just,” she swallowed and lifted her gaze. “Just wanted to wish you good luck.”
Derek tore his calculating gaze away from her and started looking into the crowd once again.
“Okay,” he grumbled.
Paige waited for at least a “thank you”, but it was obvious that was all she would get. But Paige wasn’t the one to give up easily.
She stepped closer to him and wrapped her hands around her naked arms.
“Kind of cold today, yeah?” she bit her lip.
Derek just hummed.
Okay, so she just got to do everything herself. Ugh, boys.
“Can I borrow your jacket, then?” she lifted her head and looked him in the eyes. “You know, with your name on it, so that everybody knows that I'm—” she couldn’t bring herself to say yours, “— with you.”
Paige breathed out; tingling pride filled her chest for having enough courage to say those words.
But Derek didn’t even look at her.
“I lost it.”
The forced smile slipped from Paige’s pale lips. She clenched her fists, took a couple of steps towards her boyfriend and, after gathering the pitiful crumbs of bravery that were still left in her, asked boldly:
“A kiss for good luck?”
That made Derek turn his head. Victory.
“Fine,” he gritted his teeth, which wasn’t encouraging at all, and turned his cheek.
A shy kiss landed right on the boy’s clenched jawline.
“Go to your seat,” Derek slipped away from her and went to stand next to his teammates.
Paige knew, that nobody was really looking at her and people were minding their own business, but it didn’t feel like it. She felt like projector lights would turn on her any second now, making her humiliation known to the public.
The girl swallowed once again and went through the tight crowd to find her friends.
She thought a lot about Derek during the game. Of his reluctance to show and accept any form of PDA; of how he had yet to kiss her on the mouth and the way his tight lips always landed on her cheek for the briefest of seconds. Derek didn’t hug her, didn’t hold her hand, or look at her with the same fondness he granted his friends and that Stilinski asshole. At this point, she didn’t even look like his friend, when standing next to him.
She almost unconsciously swept her gaze along the endless rows, full of students, cheering on the team. The flash of red caught her attention and when she took a good look at the jumping figure, all her insides turned to ice.
It was Stilinski, surrounded by his and Derek’s friend group. And on his shoulders was a red jacket, too big for him, since he had to roll up the sleeves. And on the back of the jacket, there were four big letters, displaying who it belonged to.
‘HALE’
***
The silence in the car was deafening.
Derek didn’t seem to want to start a conversation, and Paige didn’t know how to bring up the subject.
Yes, it was just a stupid fucking jacket, but it was bothering her. In movies girlfriends always wore their partner’s jackets, it was considered a cute joke, a flirting gesture. Damn, there were people like these in Beacon High! It was like Paige was robbed of something she’d never even had.
Nevertheless, she was determined to stay open-minded and understanding. Healthy relationships were built on mutual trust and clear communication, and Paige wanted this whatever between them to work.
“So, I guess, I, um,” she sneaked a look at Derek. He was staring at the road in front of him. “I found your jacket.”
“Did you?”
“Yeah. I saw Stilinski wearing it.”
Derek’s whole appearance seemed to bloom at the mere sound of his friend’s name. He smirked, put one elbow on the windshield and rubbed his chin.
“Of course, he was,” he huffed a small laugh.
Of course?
“Well,” Paige turned to him, “don’t you think I'm the one that should be wearing it?”
Derek’s smirk disappeared.
“The f— what do you mean?”
“I'm your girlfriend,” she reminded him. “You should give it to me.”
“He’s m—” Derek broke off suddenly and put both hands on the steering wheel. His knuckles were white. “He can wear whatever he wants. Don’t make such a big fucking deal about it.”
“It’s a big deal to m—”
“Did you have to ruin my fucking mood?” he interrupted. “I’ve just won the fucking game and you bring up this shit?”
His voice was so loud and sharp, it made Paige flatten herself against her seat.
“M’sorry,” she mumbled, clutching at the safety belt. The corners of her eyes started stinging.
“Whatever.”
When they arrived at the house where the party was held, Derek left her in the car and didn’t even look back. It took her two minutes of forced steady breathing to have the power to open the car door and go into the house.
There were tons of people, some drunk already, some well on their way to it. Lights were flickering, colorful, and bright; music was booming so hard, Paige could feel the vibrations in her chest.
She needed a distraction, but she wasn’t allowed to drink and she barely knew anybody here. The crowd was full of over-excited jocks, drunk on the energy and the victory; the cheerleaders were still cheering them on, making the boys’ peacocking even worse.
Paige hated parties.
Suddenly she heard a loud and familiar voice.
“Oh, look, here’s the champion of the night!”
Fucking Stilinski. Still in Derek’s jacket.
Apparently, Derek had reached them and now with Erica on one hand and Stilinski on another, he was kissed by both of them on his cheeks rather enthusiastically. The crowd greeted the team captain with whoops and roars and squealing.
Derek was smiling bright and wide. It was truly a breathtaking sight.
Reyes had finally let him go and was now busy hanging off of Boyd. Stilinski had decided that it gave him the free reign over Derek, so he promptly jumped on his back, tucked his face close to Derek’s, so they were cheek to cheek, and demanded to be piggy-backed to the drink’s table.
It was pathetically obvious, that Derek was used to this behavior. He rolled his eyes and brought his hands under Stilinski’s thighs to keep him from falling. They were talking about something, but the music was too loud for Paige to hear what it was about.
She convinced herself she didn’t care.
Paige spent the entire evening being a stalker. She was aware of her creepy behavior, but it wasn't like anybody noticed her standing in a quiet corner. The desire to eat had disappeared since the beginning of the game, so she was holding her room-temperature Coke and tried to blend with the wall.
Derek and Stilinski were inseparable the entire evening. Who would’ve guessed.
They sneaked a little bit of alcohol in their drinks, which Paige had disapproved of, so they were even more disgusting with each other than usual. Well, Stilinski was disgusting, Derek was just tolerating his presence, for sure. Stilinski was a clingy mouthy brat, who had apparently glued his hands to Derek’s waist. Derek didn’t have any choice, really, but to put his arm around Stiles.
It was all Stilinski’s fault.
Paige didn’t like how Stiles looked at her boyfriend, with big eyes full of proud fondness. His laugh was loud, boisterous and contagious to all the people around him. When Stiles stumbled, Derek was always there to catch him, which made Stiles giggle and cling to him even more.
Paige wanted to cry, but she knew she couldn’t. That would be beyond humiliating.
Then someone suggested a game of Spin the Bottle. And in typical jock fashion, the captain was wrestled into participating immediately.
So, of course, Stilinski was brought along with him.
No. No, no, no.
Enough.
Paige unstuck herself from the wall and started to squeeze through the crowd to get to the center of the living room, where the players were sitting. But there were so many people, burly and strong and she was a rather small girl, so the whole ordeal took her a while.
When she had finally burst through the first row of eager spectators, the game was already on.
Erica was peppering kisses all over Lahey’s cherubic face, which was puckered and wrinkled from disgust, and also bright pink from Erica’s lipstick.
“Ew-w, Erica, you’re like my fucking sister, sto—” he didn’t get to finish the sentence because Erica smacked a wet kiss right on his lips.
Isaac’s horrified wail was buried under the guffaws and roaring laughter.
Next rounds were spent in a similar way; Jackson absolutely refused to kiss Danny, which made Lydia Martin clip him round the ear; the girl then proceeded to kiss Danny herself, which left Jackson pink-faced and thoroughly confused.
Heather got to kiss Stilinski, but was so flustered and shy, that she mastered only a dry peck in the corner of his mouth, before going red like a beetroot.
Everybody refused to kiss Greenburg, who was then quickly kicked out of the game.
Then Stilinski took the bottle and spun it with a cheeky grin.
Paige closed her eyes and prayed.
Suddenly there was a roar from the crowd along with hoots and catcalling.
“I want your luck, Stilinski!”
“Get your fucking man!”
“Don’t chicken out now, Hale!”
Horrified and close to bursting into tears, Paige opened her eyes. The bottle was pointing at Derek. She lifted her gaze at her boyfriend.
He was sitting there, looking at Stiles with such intensity and a smug smile, like the cat who got the cream.
“Come here, Hale,” Stilinski lifted an eyebrow and beckoned him with one finger, biting his lip.
“No, you come here,” Derek smiled predatorily. Stiles rolled his eyes, despite the impish grin on his lips.
“As you wish, my champion.”
“Oh, this is gonna be so hot,” Danny announced dreamily and a lot of people nodded in agreement.
Paige didn’t want to witness this, but couldn’t turn away from the trainwreck.
Stiles crawled seductively in Derek’s lap, took his face in his hands, and kissed him right on the lips.
The crowd went absolutely wild.
But those two didn’t stop.
Derek put his hands on Stiles’ trim waist, not to push him away, but to pull him in even more. Their kiss, which was never innocent in the first place, turned into an open-mouthed one and even dirtier as if encouraged by the supporting crowd.
“Somebody, spray them with a water bottle!” Jackson complained.
Stiles took one hand from Derek’s face and gave him a middle finger.
“Don’t pretend you’re not enjoying the show, Jacks,” Danny teased him. “This is a prime spank bank material, right there.”
Finally, the kiss has ended.
The boys were breathing heavily, apparently in no rush to separate from one another. They didn’t seem to notice the claps or the cheers or anyone from the roaring crowd. They stared at each other with something deep reflecting in both their gazes. Stiles’ smile soon turned into breathless giggles the longer he stared at Derek. He closed his eyes and, still giggling uncontrollably, put his hands around Derek’s shoulders and tucked his blushing face against his neck. Derek caressed his spine almost reverently up and down and sighed in Stiles’ hair with a self-satisfied smile.
Nobody noticed their little touches and gazes. Or, maybe, they were used to it. Or is that how it is with jocks? All the pent-up energy spilled into homoerotic displays of affection?
Maybe they were just drunk.
Drunk, stupid boys.
Paige couldn’t watch them anymore, or she’d be sick.
She turned around and headed for the exit through the crowd with doubled vigor.
“Hale’s turn!”
“Spin it!”
Paige started pushing people aside in a hurry.
“NO WAY!”
“Again! That’s not fair!”
“Stilinski, you’re one lucky motherfucker.”
This was a nightmare.
“HALE! HALE! HALE!”
Paige stumbled out of the house, feeling something wet slide down her cheek.
The triumphant roar of the crowd made her flinch and walk away faster.
***
“You don’t touch me, you’ve never even kissed me!”
“I’m fucking tired of your screaming fits.”
“We’ve been on, what, like, two dates? And the rest of them you’ve bailed on me because of Stilinski!”
“So I'm not allowed to hang out with my fucking friends now, huh?”
“You know, that’s not it at all—”
“Sounds fucking like it.”
“I didn’t mean… I’m sorry, I just feel like you don’t care at all, it’s like ‘Stiles this’ and ‘Stiles that’ and I'm so sick of hearing his name!”
“So you’ve decided to give me a headache, because you’re jealous that I have friends other than you?”
“No, no, Derek, please…”
“What problem do you have with him, huh?”
“He’s just an attention whore, and you don’t fucking see it!”
“Don’t fucking talk about him like that!”
“I’m telling the truth! It bothers me—”
“Well, that’s not my problem, deal with it. I'm not gonna drop my fucking best friend over some girl’s hissy fits.”
“Why did you even ask me out, if I'm just ‘some girl’ to you?”
“You were nice.”
“You were ‘nice’, too! It’s like you’re a different person, now!”
“That’s where you’re fucking wrong.”
***
It was fine. Everything was fine.
This is not the end of the world, all couples fight, that’s a totally normal part of any relationship.
Paige was going to the bleachers since that was the last place anyone had seen Derek. It was colder than normal and she had forgotten her hoodie, but no matter the weather or her sad sack of a heart, she would mend this relationship. It meant a lot to her. She knew she could fix it, fix Derek, make him soft and sweet and affectionate with her like he was with—
Paige clenched her jaws.
No, forget about him.
This was between her and Derek.
...who was sitting on the row closest to the field. And he wasn’t alone.
Paige quickly ducked back behind the wall, separating her and Derek. Her heart was beating out of her chest for doing something so wrong as eavesdropping on what looked like a private and serious conversation.
Stiles and Derek were sitting together, close, as usual, but turned to each other. Derek was holding Stiles' hand, but Paige forced herself to remember, that it was always like this between the two friends. Derek often held Stilinski’s hand either to calm him down or to ground him or to…
Doesn’t matter. Maybe this was the time that Derek explained to Stiles that his attachment was too weird, that he had a beautiful girlfriend now and would like to spend more time with her…
“What did Lydia say?” Derek asked uncharacteristically gently.
“She agreed to go with me to the prom, if I surrender the Valedictorian speech to her,” Stiles mumbled, looking at their hands.
Stiles’ crush on Lydia Martin, of course. Maybe now he would understand that no one would willingly hang out with him.
“Doesn’t seem like much.”
Stiles smirked.
“She also said not to treat her like an idiot, so…” Stilinski looked up nervously. “She knows.”
Derek went tense immediately.
“Did someone—”
“Now, she kinda figured it out. Although, she gave me points for my acting. I had her fooled for a while, too.”
Derek chuckled.
“Yeah, your loud proclamations of love are hard to miss.”
Wait, so… Acting? Stiles wasn’t head over heels in love with Martin? That was just for attention? Paige smiled gleefully at knowing she was right.
“What about you?” Stiles nudged him with his bony knee. “Gonna go with her?”
So much hatred and disgust was hidden within that small word. Paige knew they were now talking about her, she wasn’t stupid. Did Derek ever get tired of the vile poison, spilling out of that mouth?
“Baby, don’t tell me you’re jealous.”
Baby?!
He had never during their three-month-long relationship called her something other than by her name. What in the honest fuck was happening?
“You go on dates with her, hold her hand, fucking make out—”
“You know I would never kiss anybody, but you,” Derek interrupted, flicking him on the nose.
“— so what if one day you wake up and realize that you want a nice girl instead of the disaster that I am?”
They were together. All the rumors were true. She’s going to be sick.
“I'm not your fucking homophobic piece of shit father, Stiles. I don’t want a girl, nor a nice one. I want the asshole who I fell in love with years ago. I want you.”
A heartbreak was messy, cold and merciless. The remnants of her heart may as well have been cut with a serrated knife and thrown to the wolves.
Now everything was clear to Paige. The hugs, the constant touches, that fucking kiss. Stilinski had a full right to glare at her like he wanted to rip her throat out because he was right to be jealous of his boyfriend having a side chick. That’s what she was at the end.
The only question was—
“Why?”
Stilinski jumped from his seat, dropping Derek’s hand like it was on fire. Derek tensed and slowly stood up, turning to face her.
Paige didn’t even notice how she walked out of her hiding place. She had one hand on her chest, praying for her heart to stop beating that fast.
Stiles looked at her with the same kind of distaste as he always had, but now he kept glancing back at Derek with something like fear and apprehension in his big brown eyes. Derek’s face was a usual emotionless mask, and if Paige wasn’t already freezing from the wind, she definitely would have frozen from the ice in Derek’s glare.
“How much have you heard?” he asked her point blank.
“Enough,” she croaked.
“I was so close,” Stiles huffed under his breath and rubbed his face with both hands. “She’s going to ruin everything.”
Paige’s jaw almost hit the floor.
“I’m going to ruin everything? Me?! You took my boyfriend—”
“He’s mine!” Stiles snarled, taking a step towards her.
Derek took him by the hand. Like he always did in situations like this.
“Will you stop with the fucking drama?” he growled at Stiles.
Stilinski lifted his nose in defiance, glared at Paige with renewed venom and bit out:
“She’s gonna ruin everything.”
Suddenly Derek grabbed him by the chin and forced him to meet his glare.
“You think I’m going to let some girl dictate our future?” he looked down at Stilinski’s wobbling lips and caressed them with his big finger. “I told you I would get you out of this hell hole. So calm the fuck down and let me do my job.”
Stiles pouted but nodded after a few seconds. Derek turned to stare at Paige.
“Why?” she whispered.
“His father,” Derek nodded at Stilinski, “is a fucking piece of shit, who doesn’t like the idea of us being together.”
“To put it lightly,” Stiles muttered.
“As soon as we graduate, I’m getting him out of here,” Derek’s smile was almost cruel in its vindictiveness. “He will never find us again. But until then, Stiles lives under his roof, so he’s gotta play his part.”
All of those loud declarations of love towards Lydia Martin weren’t meant to be heard by her but by everyone else. Not her attention was really needed, but the Sheriff’s.
“Fucking fine. Him, I get,” Paige didn’t even try to keep the bitterness out of her voice. “Why did you have to drag me into this?”
Derek inclined his head.
“See, this dipshit is not a very good actor,” Derek told her, making Stiles squawk indignantly, and turned to look at him. “The party?”
“I was drunk!” Stiles cried out with a flush all over his face.
“You’re so fucking lucky Martin spiked that punch, so everybody’s got even more drunk than you and fucking forgot about it,” Derek shook his head. “Anyway, the Sheriff would be suspicious if we continued like that, and the crush on the Martin girl wasn’t going to be enough. So I had to play my part, too.”
“Why me?” Paige sniffed. “What did I ever do to you?”
“You were nice.”
“What does that fucking mean?”
Derek smirked. Not an ounce of care was in those cold eyes.
“The ‘girlfriend’ was to be let in our circle, observe us, look at us closely. There was a big risk to be found out. So we needed someone nice. Which, you were. And still are. And you will be.”
Why did it sound like a threat?
“You’re not going to out us. You know the Sheriff will find a fucking reason to shoot me, cops don’t need much,” Derek huffed. “You don’t need that on your conscience, do you?”
Paige wanted to shake him, to slap him and beat him, so he could feel her pain and misery. She wanted to murder Stilinski, to walk up to his father and…
But as she looked at Stiles, who came up behind Derek and quietly lowered his chin on his shoulder, it was becoming clearer by each second, that Hale was right.
She couldn’t do that to them, to Derek.
It wasn’t right. God, who would’ve known that being nice could feel so shitty?
“I know, you feel strongly for me,” Derek continued, ignoring Paige’s flinch. “I just don’t care. And I’m not sorry. He’s my priority,” he nudged Stilinski with his head very carefully. Stiles smiled in an unashamed satisfaction.
“I don’t want to hear you speak to me ever again,” Paige’s quiet voice broke as she stared at the pair.
“Done.”
That easy, huh?
She didn’t have anything else to say. She felt empty. Broken and used. She never wanted to hear Derek’s name again.
As she turned away from her first love and at the same time her first heartbreak, she heard Stilinski speak.
“Oh, and Paige?”
It was the first time he called her by her name. Paige stopped and half-turned to them, indicating that she was listening.
“Be nice.”
This time the threat was loud and clear.
Paige hugged herself to hide from the chilly wind, turned around, and continued to walk away.
She wasn’t fine. Far from it. Nothing was fine.
But someday, it will be.