The Rising Sun (A Stiles Stilinski/Teen Wolf Fanfiction) [2]

Chapter 9 - The Reveal

**Disclaimer** I don't own Teen Wolf and I'm running out of creative and clever things to add to this.

 I drove myself home from school for the first time. I finally felt comfortable enough to drive myself around without getting lost. A part of me was sad that I drove because then I could ride home with Stiles. I had to remind myself that he got me a detention. 

 The house was empty when I arrived. My father hasn't been home much lately. He's always out with his girlfriend. I think he's afraid to introduce me to her because I only learned that my mother and sister died a couple of weeks ago. It's been three years, and he seems happy. I want to meet her. She's the closest thing I have to a mother figure.

 I went directly into my room and plopped onto my bed. I was hoping to squeeze in a nap before the lacrosse game. Once again, I didn't get much sleep last night. All I could think about was Stiles and how, for some reason, I feel that he's connected to my memories. I thought about his mom and what it must have been like for him. I wanted to call him, but decided against it for the sake of my pride.

 Sleep was moments from taking over my conscious mind when I heard a tap on my window. I groaned, but was pleasantly surprised to see Isaac crouched on my roof once again. I wonder how he even gets up there.

 He gave me a smile as I opened the window to allow him to hop inside my room. I felt a sliver of guilt for once again pushing him out of my mind, but it should be understandable with everything going on around here. It's not like I mean to, it's just that there are more pressing matters to pay mind to.

  "Hey," he said, slightly out of breath.

 "Hey, fugitive," I said. I gave him a playful nudge and he chuckled. "How's that working out for you by the way?"

 "Oh just wonderful," he said, exaggerating. "I love being on the run,"

 I giggled and without realizing leaned into him. I look up from his chest, as he is much taller than me, and met his eyes. They were a soft blue, unlike mine. They were breathtaking. They glanced to my lips before finding my own eyes again.

 I barely know this kid, his wanted for the possible murder of his father, and I think that I may be going insane. Yet, here I am, about to kiss him. Maybe he's just what I need, a way to get my mind off of everything. A distraction.

 He wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me to him. His free hand cupped the side of my face, his skin calloused and slightly rough against my jawline. Unsure of myself, I draped an arm over his shoulder and used the other to cling to his. He was so warm; it's like his body was radiating heat.

 I licked my lips and in one smooth motion they were pressed against his. I didn't care what I was feeling, because at this point in time, nothing mattered. I didn't care that something about his lips felt off to me, somehow they still managed to seem right. I was kissing him, and I was enjoying it.

 He walked me backward until legs met the edge of the bed and my knees buckled, sending us both down onto it. My glasses turned crooked and Isaac took them off for me and set them on my nightstand before putting his lips on mine again. We both giggled into the kiss. As his tongue traced the inside of my mouth, one of his hands caressed its way around the back of my thigh and over my waist. I bit my tongue to suppress a moan as his lips moved to my neck. This is felt so amazing. His kisses were so soft and delicate, it was beginning to send me into a frenzy.

 I closed my eyes and leaned my head back, but something else popped into my mind. It was my mother, looking just has she did in all of the pictures my dad had shown me. She's been popping into my head for a while now, but more now than ever. It's only for a few moments and she always says one thing, "Stiles."