Stiles' P.O.V:

I don't know, I think I am scaring Emma a little. Am I being too nice?

Maybe it was a fast move. I should just do it slowly. She looks really confused because of my behaviour.

After buying an extra cheese large pizza we go home.

We're in my room, she is lying in her stomach, occupying the whole bed- as usual- and I'm sitting on the floor, near the end of the bed.

We aren't talking, just eating with her favourite band playing softly on the background. "Oh, I think I'm in love," Emma says. I turn around with a smirk plastered on my face.

"Are you?" I ask playfully. I know she is talking about food, not me, but that is the funny part. Isn't it?

"Aren't you?" she asks back and I laugh. "Whatever, I feel bad for Scott and all of this hanging out thing."

"I know, right? Worst part is that he told Jackson he is good at bowling." I let myself to laugh at my best friend.

"He's terrible." She rolls her eyes.

"You aren't, though," I comment, remembering what I thought during lunch. "You were the best."

"I still am, Stilinski," she laughs and I join.

Eventually, we are quiet again.

"I can't believe you remember that," she comments, playing with the ends of her long dark hair.

"I remember everything," I say, resting my head on the bed so I can see her.

I know what she wants to ask: why. And sometimes I ask the same thing to myself, too. What if I had found other way to get over her, so many years ago?

What if being on the friendzone isn't that bad? I mean, I have never ever been on the friendzone in my life. And I don't think Emma and I are in that position yet, we just stopped hating on each other.

What if she's just pretending?

Oh, I need to stop. She isn't pretending, I'd know it; wouldn't I?

"I don't remember my mom," she says, leaving the pizza aside.

She sits at the end of the bed and I quickly follow. God, I just hope she doesn't start crying. I suck at comforting people and I don't think I can handle crying Emma.

"To be completely honest, I remember more of your mother than my own." At the mention of mom I can't help but tense. That is a really, really delicate topic to me, I don't think I have ever truly discussed it with anyone.

She seems to notice it, guilt fills her blue eyes. "I-I'm sorry! I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable, I just...never mind." She stands up, ready to get out of here.

"Emma, wait," I sigh and take her wrist, making her stop. She slowly sits back on the bed. "You can tell me, it's fine."

She is just about to talk when my phone goes off. "It's Scott," I say and she nods once. "What's up?"

"I need you to take me to school tonight," he says, leaving me very confused.

"Alright..." I agree don't wanting to know the reasons.

"Do you know where Emma is? I've called her the whole afternoon," he says and I look at her.

She somehow knows what Scott just asked and furiously shakes her head. "I...no, no idea," I lie to him. "But I'll go pick her up anyway, don't worry."

"What? Mate, she isn't coming. It is dangerous." Tell me he's kidding.

"Mate," I mock him. "Emma and I are sort of a pack, you know, you can't ask me to do something and pretend she won't know. We have a deal."

"Yeah, but this is something different."

"Scott, she got on the same car as Derek Hale and she's alive. She is coming." I defend Emma. This was the point of talking to each other, right?

"Alright." He gives up. "I didn't know you wanted to spend time with her. See you soon."

"Wait, Scott, I don't-"

Why do everyone always hang up on me when I have something to say?

I look back at Emma, who's playing with the hem of her shirt.

"We need to go?"

"You should go home and get changed," I sigh. She gives me a look. "No, you look good-I mean-what you're wearing is fine," I stutter, confusing her even more. "Scott wants to go to school tonight, I don't know why."

I calm myself.

"Okay," Is all she says before standing up again.

"Emma," I call her attention, she turns around. "I promise we'll talk about this soon, okay?"

"Sure."

She isn't falling for me at all.

Emma's P.O.V:

If you think Stiles is the weirdest kid in Beacon Hills, don't think again: you're right.

I don't know why he acts the way he does around me and it's truly scaring me. We were just fine being less mean than usual to each other, why did he have to start being completely nice?

I hate it.

Right now we're sitting in his car, this time I'm using the backseat. "Where were you today, by the way?" Scott asks me out of the blue.

Should I tell him the truth?

"I was out." I shrug. "I wanted to walk for a while."

I see Stiles slightly smiling in the mirror but I decide to ignore it. We come to a stop and the both get out of the car, leaving me all by myself in the backseat.

I see them arguing for a while, until Stiles walks back to the car. "If it makes you feel better, I do feel like Robin all the time," I pat his shoulder.

"How you knew?" he turns around to talk to me.

"It's something you would say." I shrug and he smiles. He won't stop, will he? "Why are you doing this?"

"Doing...what?" he gives me a confused look.

"This." I roll my eyes. "You being suddenly all nice, it scares me, seriously."

"Y-you don't like it?" he stutters.

"No, I mean, yeah, I guess. But it is just so weird and I..." before I can say anything, Stiles sounds the klaxon repeatedly.

"We'll talk about this later!" he promises as Scott runs towards us. They'll catch us, they'll catch us and I'll be screwed.

"Go, go, go, go!" Scott shouts at Stiles as we leave as fast as this old crappy jeep allows us.

"Did it work? Did you remember?" Stiles asks, breathing hard.

"Yeah, I was there last night and the blood, most of it was mine," Scott says. This werewolf thing is so weird, is ridiculous.

"So you did attack him," I state.

"No," Scott snaps. Oh, okay then.

Tonight I'm way less than Robin.

"I saw glowing eyes in the bus, but they weren't mine, it was Derek." Scott continues.

"What about the driver?" Stiles asks.

"I think I was trying to protect him."

"Wait; why would Derek help you to remember that he attacked the driver?" I ask once again. Though I hate it, I'm still part of this.

"That's what I don't get!" Scott sighs.

"There's gotta be a pack thing," Stiles states.

"What do you mean?" I ask, because we read a lot about pack stuff.

"Like an initiation. You kill together."

"Because ripping someone's throat out is a really bonding experience?" I let sarcasm take over me. I am quite done with Stilinski right now.

"But you didn't kill him," Stiles ignores me. I hate him. "Which means you're not a killer. And it also means-"

"I can go out with Allison," Scott sighs in relief and Stiles looks at me for half a second through the mirror.

"I was going to say it means you won't kill us," he says motioning between the two of us.

"Oh, yeah." Scott shrugs. "That, too."

Screw you, teen wolf.

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