Let Me Love You

Not So New Wolf In Town

I step foot outside of my 2012 grey Chevy Camaro and stroll into Beacon Hills high school without a care in the world. Clad in my black leather jacket, dark skinny jeans and my black combat boots.

Who is she? Voices echo through the halls as I make my way toward the office.

"Hadlee Hale, I'm a transfer student," I state to the woman behind the desk, who I assume is the secretary.

"Where's your parents dear?" She questions, not looking up from her computer screen.

"Dead."

She looks up over her glasses as if I'm kidding.

"I'm not shitting you if that's what you think," I bite back.

"Language dear," she states before typing something into her computer, "Paperwork?"

I hand her the papers and she types something else into her damned computer. I bounce up and down on the balls of my feet.

"Here's your schedule, locker number, and combination dear, welcome to Beacon Hills high school. Please take this and have all of your teachers sign it, then turn it in at the end of the day," says as she holds out a few pieces of paper for me and I take it.

"Thanks," I deadpan before walking out of the tiny office to look for my locker.

I look over my schedule, next period: chemistry. Great! I start to make my way to Mr. Harris' room when the bell rings, great. I'm going to be late. When I walk in, most of the seats are already full.

"Mister Stilinski, I suggest for your sake to be on time more often," the man behind the desk states.

"I don't about being a Mister, or who the hell Stilinski is. But I am sure that I am of the female gender and are most definitely a Hale," I snap with lots of sarcasm.

He looks up over his glasses and asks, "Who are you?"

"Hadlee Hale, transfer," I hold out the piece of paper that the secretary wants all of my teachers to sign. He snatches it out of my hands, quickly signs it, and holds it out for me to take.

"Take a seat by Mister McCall," he states, pointing to the scruffy haired teenage boy by the window.

"Great, thank you Harris!" I exclaim with fake enthusiasm.

"That would be Mister Harris to you, unless you would like after school detention."

"No thank you," I spin as I drop into my seat.

"No thank you?" He questions.

"No thank you Mister Harris," I drawl monotonously.

"Now if everyone would turn to page seventy-three," Harris turns to the board to write something up there.

"Who are you?" The McCall boy turns to me, the smell of werewolf and Axe hits me like a ton of bricks.

"Hadlee Hale, what are you?" I question.

"Wh-What?" He asks, stunned.

"You heard me. What are you? Not like I really need to ask, I could smell it from a mile away," I pull a notebook and a pencil out of my backpack.

"I should ask you the same thing," he drops.

The kid with the buzz cut behind us leans forward and asks, "Are you in any way, shape, or form related to Derek Hale?"

"How'd you know?" I give him a sly smile.

"Uhh... You look like him," he states.

"What was your first guess?" I smirk as I continue writing down what Harris is scrawling on the board.