Spurious [Sequel To Open Your Eyes] *editing*

[19] Eavesdroppers

~Mid-July~

Claire:

Another loud and extremely annoying pop fills the room for what seems like the thousand time. I turn around from packing to look at the source of the sound with an irritated expression on my face.

"Stiles if I hear the bubble wrap in more time, I'll show everyone that picture of you from the summer you tried to bring mullets back into style." I warn, causing him to drop the bubble wrap that was in his hands.

"That's low Claire, that's low." He replies, not pleased with the fact that I own said picture. I smile and go back to closing the last box in my room.

I glance around the now empty room, feeling my heart drop to my stomach. The only things left are a few boxes and my desk in the corner of my room. Well I knew I'd move out for good one day.

Plus... I did spend the first half of the summer finally convincing my mom that it's not a bad idea. So i just need to suck it up and finish packing my things.

"Alright, well I'm done here. Lets go 'try' to help Scott move some of these boxes down." I suggest, standing up and dusting myself off.

We each grab a box, neither one of us wanting to be the wimpiest one. Stiles looks over at me as we walk down the hallway, with an all too familiar look on his face.

"On the count of three?" He asks, sounding like he already knows the answer.

I nod my head, looking down the hall with a determined look on my face. "One." He starts, both of us stopping in the hallway.

"Two." I grip onto the box, wishing that I hadn't packed so much into the last few ones.

"Three!"

We bolt towards the stairs, both of us sounding like we're the ones who should have an inhaler. Or like we're about to pass out.

He beats me to the stairs and rushes down. "Ha, ha--"

His victory cry is cut short as he misses a step at the bottom and eats it. I can't help but let out a laugh as he drops the box and lands face first on the ground.

I try to stifle my laugh- to no prevail- and step over him, making it to the front door in victory.

"Ha! That's what you get for trying to rub it in." I say, waiting for him to pick himself up.

He tries not to look mad from his lose, but seeing as he use to be the raining victor when it use to be just him and non-werewolf Scott...well he just hates to give up his title.

"Maybe you should stop gloating and act like the twenty-hundred year old that you are." He sasses as we walk down the driveway to the rental truck.

I laugh at his disgruntled expression and move out of Scott's way--who's carrying the last three boxes with ease.

"Well if it makes you feel any better I'm sure I look as winded as you do." I say, referring to his tinted cheeks from our short run.

Scott looks at us with an amused stare, waiting for us to haul the last boxes to the back of the truck. "Soak it in, Scott. Soak it in." Stiles mumbles, causing his best friend to laugh and close down the door.

We walk over to the side of the truck facing the house and lean on it. "Are you sure we shouldn't have waited for mom to get home?" Scott asks with a semi concerned tone to his voice.

I look over from my spot from a still sore loser faced Stiles and nod my head. "Don't you remember how she got when I moved away for college?" I ask back.