BORDERLINE
[BOOK ONE OF FIVE] ✧
Harper Verum agreed to help her best friends find a dead body a little too willingly the night before their first day of sophomore year. If she had known the consequences of sneaking out into the preserve, she would h...
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chapter eighteen full moon
Stiles' plan had landed them in the picnic area of Beacon Hills Preserve, Scott sitting on top of a rock with Harper leaning against it and Stiles lying on the ground on his back. Harper closed eyes, too drunk to care that a particularly sharp part of the rock was digging into her back.
The sun had set hours ago, leaving them in a dark blanket filled with stars. It was cold out, so Harper was sporting Stiles' lacrosse hoodie from his freshman year that he had given her and a pair of black skinny jeans.
A fire burned from beside them inside a bin, its flames reaching high up and providing some warmth for the cold teenagers. The bonfire smoky smell filled Harper's nostrils. She liked it- it reminded her of Guy Fawkes Night.
"Dude, you know, she's just one girl... One girl." Stiles slurred, his head resting on the uneven ground as he tried to comfort Scott. "There are so many other girls in the sea."
Harper giggled loudly. "I think you mean fish, Sti." She hiccupped.
"Fish?" Stiles repeated, confused. "Why are you talking about fish? I'm talking about girls." He exhaled dramatically. "I love girls. I love them. I love... Especially ones with honey brown hair, brown eyes, 5'1"..."
Scott rolled his eyes when he saw Harper not paying any attention. She was just poking at the hole in her skinny jeans, oddly entertained by it in her drunken state. To say she was ditzy when under the influence of alcohol would be an understatement.
"You mean like Harper?" Scott dead-panned, raising his dark eyebrows.
The werewolf had had a few sips, gulps even, of the Jack Daniels that Stiles had stolen from his dad's alcohol cabinet, but he wasn't anywhere near drunk. He wasn't even tipsy.
"Yeah, exactly." Stiles confirmed. "How did you know I was talking about..." He trailed off. "About... What was I talking about?"
He grinned, but his smile faltered when he saw Scott's depressed state. "Hey, you're not happy." Stiles slapped Scott's leg.
Harper lifted up the Jack Daniels bottle from beside her, holding it above her head. "Take a drink." She insisted happily.
Scott just glanced at the girl and shook his head. "I don't want anymore." His voice was void from any emotion.
The brunette shrugged, putting the bottle back down between her and Stiles. "You're not drunk?" She asked.
Again, Scott shook his head. "I'm not anything."
"Hey, maybe it's like... maybe it's like not needing your inhaler anymore, you know." Harper's voice picked up a few pitches as she began to explain her theory. "Maybe you can't get drunk as a wolf."
Harper's face suddenly twisted. "Am I drunk?" She questioned, her voice dragging out as she slurred.
Scott glanced at them both for about a second. "You're both wasted."
