** COMPLETED **
Growing up in Beacon Hills, Wren Martin's life was as normal as any teenagers. With her sister Lydia, and her two best friends, Scott and Stiles by her side, everything was fine. That was until Stiles came up with the genius idea to...
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School / Scott's house -
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Chapter Eight 🐺 Lunatic 🐺
Under the light of an almost full moon, Scott and Wren follows Stiles down a dark path through the woods, "Where are we going?" Scott asked. "You'll see." Stiles said, giving them a completely vague answer. "Cause I really shouldn't be out here. My mom is in a constant state of freak-out from what happened at the school." Scott said and Wren nodded in agreement, "Mine too."
"Well, your moms aren't the Sheriff, okay? There's no comparison, trust me." Stiles said and Wren raised her eyebrows, "Can you at least tell us what we're doing out here?" Wren asked and Stiles turned to them. "When one of your best friends gets dumped-" He started to say but Scott cut him off, "I didn't get dumped. We're taking a break."
"When your best friend gets told by his girlfriend that they're taking a break- you get him drunk." Stiles said, pulling out the bottle of Jack Daniels.
After a while, the once full bottle of Jack is now half empty. No telling how much time has passed, but long enough for Stiles to have gotten completely wasted. The three friends keep warm around a steel trash can with a fire blazing inside. "Dude, she's one girl. There are plenty more girls in the sea." Stiles slurred.
"Fish in the sea." Scott corrected making Stiles look at him confused. "Fish? Why you talking about fish? I'm talking about girls. I love girls. I love 'em. I love especially ones with long brown hair, green eyes, 5'5..." Stiles trailed off making Scott look at him amused.
"Like Wren?" He asked, glancing over at the teen girl who had her ear buds in while she wrote in her journal, sitting against a tree, across from the two of them. "Exactly! How did you know I was talking about... What was I talking about?" Stiles asked then noticed Scott's expression, "You don't look happy. Drink." Stiles said holding up the bottle. "I don't want anymore."
"You're not drunk?"
"I'm not anything." Scott says as he stares into the fire, the glow from the flames flickering over his face. "Maybe it's like not needing your inhaler anymore. Maybe you can't get drunk." Stiles suggested.
