Today was the start of the third week of Derek helping me. After school, he asked me to meet him in the locker room, which was odd. He usually just told me to come over after school so we could talk about the next lesson, and then we ended up doing calculus for a few hours. At this point, I was putting more time into helping him than he was helping me. Not that I minded, because he really did need the help.

I couldn't remember what lesson four was, so I was getting a little worried. So worried, in fact, that even Scott was concerned. "Stiles, you keep zoning out," he said, waving his hand in front of my face. "Are you okay?" I didn't want to tell him that the reason I zoned out was because he was talking about some girl he liked. The new girl, Allison, who was probably way out of his league.

"Just thinking," I mumbled, pushing my food around with my fork.

Scott hummed, staring at me for a second. "Your new look... is that part of your plan?" I hadn't told him much about the plan since three weeks ago when he told me it was dumb. He didn't even know that I was spending all my time with Derek. Every time he asked to hang out, I lied and said I had too much homework.

"Yeah," I sighed, glancing down at my outfit. It wasn't me at all, but Derek said I looked good. That meant Lydia would think so too. "Why?"

Scott shrugged. "It looks weird on you." He studied me for a minute before cracking a grin. "Did Derek pick those out?"

I tried to hide my surprise and cleared my throat. "What are you talking about?" I had been so careful to not get caught sneaking around. I didn't want Lydia, of all people, finding out about the plan, so Derek and I kept it on the down low. "Why would Derek pick out my clothes? You saw how angry he was a few weeks ago. He'd never help me."

Scott rolled his eyes. "Oh, so you just went to the store and picked those out yourself? And paid for them with what money?" he accused, making me shift uncomfortably. I shouldn't have been lying to Scott anyways, but the fact that he figured it out meant anyone could. "Stiles, your whole wardrobe is different. Every time you see Derek in the hallway, you guys do this weird head nod thing. You never have time to hang out anymore. Oh, and Derek got way better at calculus practically over night. Why are you lying about it? I'm your best friend."

I looked away, so Scott couldn't see my guilty face. "Yeah, I know. I'm sorry. I just didn't want anyone finding out. If Lydia finds out, it's all over." I realized I was being a shitty best friend, but I couldn't take it back. The best I could do now was to tell him the truth from now on. "I promise, no more lies. I'll tell you everything."

"Maybe not every detail," he teased, his mood lightening up a little. "Just the important stuff."

I smiled, grateful he wasn't mad. "Okay," I agreed. We continued eating in silence, but it wasn't awkward. I was just glad he was done gushing about his supposed future wife. Not that I was any better, considering how much I talked about Lydia in the past, but still. "Hey, any idea why Derek would wanna meet in the locker room after school?" I asked, just curious to see if Scott would know anything.

Scott raised an eyebrow, clearly confused. "I mean, there aren't any practices so it'll be empty."

That was exactly what I was afraid of. Derek was going to be making me do something I didn't want to do, which wasn't any different than normal, but this one probably involved sports. "Great, he's going to murder me," I grumbled, looking up at just the right time to see Derek walking across the lunch room with Lydia. He looked at me with a smirk, as if he knew I was talking about him. I rolled my eyes and looked away.

"Don't worry," Scott replied with a smile. "I'll speak at your funeral." I gave him a mocking face and he laughed at me. That was how the rest of lunch went, and it was fine, because I missed hanging out with Scott, even if we just made fun of each other.

After school, I grabbed my things and headed towards the locker room, filled with dread. I knew Derek was waiting for me with lesson number four, which I couldn't confirm was sports, but I had a feeling. When I stepped into the locker room, it was empty. I sat my backpack down on the bench, sitting down to wait for Derek. I checked my phone for any messages from him, but there was nothing.

I heard the door open and looked up, expecting Derek, but it was Jackson Whittemore who walked in. He almost walked past me, but backtracked when he realized it was me sitting there. "Stilinski, what the hell are you doing in here?" he asked, more confused than anything. He wasn't the only confused one here. Derek was supposed to be there already.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair in frustration. Jackson had a reputation for being an asshole, but only to keep his status. I was hoping, if no one else were here to witness this, he might not be an ass. "Waiting on someone," I replied, carefully choosing my words.

He stared at me for a long time, maybe deciding if he was going to beat me up or not. Finally, he came closer, sitting down beside me. "You changed the way you dress," he mentioned, gesturing at my outfit. He smiled, which was something I'd never thought I see directed at me. "I like it."

"Wait, really?" I asked in disbelief, glancing down at my self. I knew Derek said I looked good, but when Jackson said it, I really believed it. Jackson wasn't nice to anyone.

Jackson nodded, his knee knocking against mine. "Yeah, Stiles. You look good." His smile was still there, but now it was starting to give me weird vibes. It was at that moment Derek walked in, and when he saw Jackson, I swear I saw steam coming out of his ears. He didn't even say anything before grabbing Jackson by the front of his shirt to drag him away from me. "Derek, dude, I didn't know!" he screamed as he was being dragged away. What he didn't know was beyond me, but I wasn't going to get involved.

"Stay away from him," Derek threatened, barely loud enough for me to hear. He shoved Jackson out the door, a little too roughly. Jackson grumbled something under his breath and walked away, leaving me alone with grumpy Derek. "Why were you talking to him?" Derek demanded, his face inches from mine as he leaned in to accuse me. "Stiles, he could mess up the whole plan. Do you understand? He's an ass."

I wasn't sure why it was such a big deal that I spoke to Jackson, but I didn't want to argue with someone who was helping me. "Yeah, I get it," I promised, scooting away from him. "He talked to me first. It's not really a habit of mine to converse with bullies. Just you." He gave me a scowl, so I patted his cheek to make him smile. It worked, surprisingly. Just at the corners of his mouth, but it was there. "So, what's on the schedule for today?"

He stood up straight again, grabbing my sleeve to force me to my feet. "Lesson number four: cool people play sports. That means, you've got to find one you don't completely suck at."

I snorted, shaking my head. "Good luck with that. I can't even catch a baseball." It was the embarrassing truth. I tried baseball and basketball up until freshman year, where I quit before I got benched, or worse, turned into the water boy. I liked the idea of playing sports and being even semi-popular, but I sucked at everything I tried.

"Don't worry," Derek insisted, dragging me through the locker room until we stopped in front of a big closet full of different sporting equipment. "I'm going to teach you." I didn't like where this was going, but I knew I had no choice. Derek started going through things in the closet, holding up things like bats, footballs, wrestling helmets, and more. I shook my head at everything. I'd tried them all and I wasn't any good. "Stiles, we have to find something."

I crossed my arms over my chest in attempt to look intimidating, but I knew it wouldn't work. Especially when Derek raised one of those stupid eyebrows at me. "I can't play sports, Derek. Really, it's not going to happen. I've tried almost all of them."

He stared at me thoughtfully for a moment, then his face lit up. "What about lacrosse?" I gave him a 'huh' look, and he rolled his eyes, dragging me into the closet with him (A/N: no pun intended). "Stiles, have you tried lacrosse? Your friend Scott plays, doesn't he?"

I shrugged. "Yeah, he always tried to get me to try out, but I thought I'd suck. I never tried it." To be honest, waving sticks around on a field while guys ran into me on purpose didn't really sound like fun. Maybe watching someone like Derek play would be fun, but doing it myself? No thanks.. . wait, did I just say watching Derek would be fun? What the hell was wrong with me?

"Hey, dumbass," Derek said, waving his hand in front of my face. He threw a lacrosse stick at me and I barely caught it. "Take this to the car. We're going to go practice. Try outs are in a week." He shoved me out the door and towards the exit. I thought it would make sense to practice on the field, but then there was a chance for people to see us. Neither of us wanted that.

When we got to his house, we went straight to the backyard. His little sister was the only one home, but Cora never bothered us. When she did, she always knocked on the door and waited a few long seconds before coming in. I didn't really know why, since we weren't doing anything but studying, but it was whatever. The Hales were kind of weird.

"Derek, how are you going to teach me lacrosse if you don't play?" I wondered, holding the lacrosse stick in my hands as Derek prepared to throw me a ball. It wasn't rocket science, but he still had to explain all of the rules, teach me how to catch the ball, how to score, how to block people from running into me, and how to run into other people to keep them from scoring.

He grinned, tossing the ball up in the air before catching it again. "I played up until high school. I only quit because it conflicted with my football and wrestling schedules." He tossed the ball without warning and it flew right past me. "Stiles, pay attention!"

I groaned, turning around to go get the ball. "I can't pay attention when you're talking!" I yelled back, throwing the ball back at him, hoping he'd not be paying attention and miss it. But, nope, he caught it easily with his stick, then smirked at me. "I hate you," I grumbled, getting back into position.

He threw the ball again, but this time I actually caught it. "See, you can do it!" he praised me, running over to grab me by the shoulders. He shook me a little bit, but I jerked away from him. "Hey, come on, that was good. Don't look so down."

"Der, it was one catch, out of how many you've thrown to me?" I shot back, frustrated with myself. He was still grinning at me, which I didn't get, because I was being a total downer at the moment. "What, why are you smiling at me like that? You're creeping me out."

He shrugged, throwing an arm around me to torture me even more. "Nothing, I'm just glad we're becoming such great friends that you even gave me a nickname." He was teasing me, for sure. I hadn't meant to call him Der, but it just came out. It was literally just a shortened version of his name, so it wasn't like it was anything special. Still, the fact that he noticed made my face burn red. "You're blushing," he whispered, his lips against my ear.

I shoved him away with a glare, throwing my stick down to walk away from him. "Stiles, we're not done!" he called after me. I was done, even if he said we weren't. We had a week to work on this stuff, so I needed a break. Derek, however, didn't give me a choice. I heard him running up behind me, but I didn't expect to be tackled to the ground. "We still have to work on body checking," he said, crushing me with his weight.

"Derek Hale, you are the worst!" I yelled, struggling underneath of him. I got to where I was on my back, but he didn't get up. Now, he was just hovering over top of me, staring like an idiot. For some reason though, my heart was starting to pound. I guess since I never had contact with another person like this before, my body was reacting in a weird way. Especially. . . down there. The weight of another person on top of me was new, okay? Sue me. "D-Derek," I mumbled, giving up on trying to get out from under him. "I don't think this is part of the game."

He chuckled, finally sitting up on his knees so he wasn't crushing me. It only made me feel more vulnerable because I had a bit of a problem going on, so now he could probably see it. Hopefully, he didn't say anything. "No, I guess it's not. You wanna keep practicing?"

Lucky for me, we were interrupted. His mom opened the back door, catching our attention. She gave us an odd look, but I couldn't really blame her. Derek was practically sitting on my lap, which looked weird, I guess. "I brought home take out if you boys are hungry," she said eventually, giving us a very 'mom' smile before shutting the door to go back inside.

"Guess we're taking a break," I said with a fake sadness in my voice. Derek rolled his eyes at my horrible acting and got up, offering me his hand to help me to my feet. When he did, my body was pressed against his for a few seconds longer than it needed to be. Derek's smirk told me he thought this was funny, but I disagreed.