Chapter 4

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"Stiles," I call, watching him walk to his cute blue Jeep. He spins around.

"Oh, hey Nylah."

"We have to stop Scott from going to the party tonight."

"I know." Stiles's mouth forms a thin line. "But that's not gonna be easy. He's been talking about taking Allison out non-stop."

"Great," I groan, "Just great."

Of course he'd choose a girl belonging to a family of freaking Hunters.

I sigh, trying to formulate a plan B. "Are you going to the party?"

"Me? A party? At Lydia's? Lydia's party? ...no. I wasn't invited."

"Perfect, you're coming with me if we don't manage to stop Scott from going," I declare, not giving him an option. "Lydia invited me earlier."

"Really?!" he exclaims, excited. "I mean... great." He lowers the tone of his voice. "Great. That's great."

"You have such a crush on her." I chuckle. "Stiles I'm so sorry to ask, but do you think you could give me a lift home? Allison left early in the car we share to go shopping with Lydia."

I completely forgot dad and mum are... working all afternoon.

"Sure," he says with a warm smile.

"Ugh, you're such a lifesaver, thank you."

He opens the passenger door for me. I smile at him gratefully as I clamber in. He starts driving to my house.

"Actually," Stiles contemplates, "Do you wanna come to mine before the party? I would really appreciate your help in separating the facts from the myths with the information I found... some things sound ridiculous. Hopefully Scott won't go if he sees everything."

"Wow, that was a lot to process," I state as we pull into my driveway. "Sure, that sounds good. Do you mind waiting ten minutes? I'll be out as soon as I can."

"No worries," Stiles answers, turning the engine off.

I grab my bags, unlock the front door, take my shoes off, dash to my room, and plonk my bags on the floor. I strip my clothes off, hop in the shower, and wash my hair and sweaty body.

I spray perfume on and apply mascara, lipgloss, and gold eyeshadow. Hastily, I tug on a short black denim skirt, black stockings, black combat boots, a cropped sage green top with tassels, and grab a grey jumper in case it gets cold later.

I tousle my damp hair and grab the bunch of roses I bought for Lydia yesterday. I put my lipgloss and phone into a small black purse.

I scan my room. Phone: check. Jumper: check. Lipgloss: check. Flowers for Lydia: check.

Oh flip.

I open my drawer and select a blade knife in a protective leather case. I tuck it into my purse. Dad always tells me to take something I can defend myself with wherever I go.

I dash back downstairs, lock the front door because no one is home yet, tuck the key into my purse, and jog to the car.

Stiles looks at me, his eyes wide.

"What?" I chuckle uncertainly as I shut the car door and put my jumper, purse, and Lydia's roses in my lap. "I'm sorry, how long did I take? Did I keep you waiting?"

"Oh—uhh, it's not that. You look, uhm, beautiful."

My face splits into the biggest smile. "Thank you Stiles."

"Sure," he says shyly, "And no, I wasn't waiting long. You took just under ten minutes."

"Thank you for being patient."

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