Teen Wolf Imagines

Right is Wrong - Jackson

To say that you were nervous when you first arrived at Beacon Hills High School would be a terrible understatement. You didn't know whether to keep your head down or parade it high in an effort to display false confidence as a first impression.

Not that you'd ever been, or ever would be, good at first impressions.

After arriving quite easily at your locker, thankful for the simple map you'd been provided with, you collected your English books and headed off.

Your first class could have been very simple, if it weren't for what occurred towards the end. In the last five minutes of the class, you were almost home free, almost undetected as a new student. That was until you saw the pencil roll off of the desk in front of you and silently hit the carpeted floor.

You stared intensely at the pencil, clenching your fist and biting your lip, contemplating whether or not to disturb the silent class and pick it up.

You sighed quietly before finally leaning over and wrapping your fingers around the pencil, tapping the noticeably broad shoulder in front of you.

You heard the sharp response along with the rest of the class, who all turned away from their work to look directly at you. "What?"

You trained your eyes on the boy in front of you as a shudder ran through you at the sudden attention. "You dropped this." You told him, holding out the pencil.

His eyes visibly softened as he took it from you, and he nodded in thanks before turning away.

You looked back down at your work, still fully aware of the eyes that remained on you for the next 3 minutes, until the bell finally rang. You sighed, a mix of relief and terror. This was only my first class, you thought wistfully.

Just as you rose to leave, a large hand stopped you, making you visibly flinch, and it drew back as quickly as it had come. "Sorry, I just wanted to introduce myself. You're new, right?"

You looked up at the piercing blue eyes of the boy whose pencil you'd retrieved and nodded. "Yeah, I just got here today."

He smiled a dazzling smile that made you both wary of him and attracted to him at the same time. "I'm Jackson." He said, the smile never leaving his face as he held out a hand.

You returned the hand with a soft shake. "(Y/N)."

It almost seemed that his smile grew as he repeated your name back to you in what was almost a hushed whisper. "(Y/N)."

*

It was only a short month later, and the two of you had become good friends. You'd learnt a lot about Jackson, particularly through his friends, Danny, Scott and Stiles, who were all on the lacrosse team with him. Apparently he hadn't always been so friendly, according to most people you spoke to. Despite hearing this, you continued to be friends with him. He'd arrive at your house at least one night a week and you'd sit together on the couch with a movie, eventually falling asleep together and waking up with stupid smiles on your faces. You'd been to each lacrosse practice for the month, and it was the night of the first game you'd experience.

Jackson was picking you up on his way over to the warmups, so you brought a book along since you'd be arriving almost an hour early.

After settling on the bleachers, securing yourself a nice spot right at the front, you could practically feel the energy flowing towards you from the team out on the field.

You settled in with your book, huddling into your scarf and curling your legs in under yourself as you flicked page after page, not even noticing when a member of the opposing team - when had they even arrived? - approached you, taking the book gently from your hands and placing it beside you, on the cool metal seat.