Leaving the Afterparty

Stiles cast a glance in the direction of Marissa's envious gaze.

Her eyes narrowed involuntarily with possessiveness, shock, and distress.

He knew exactly where she was glaring, towards a particular spot behind his left shoulder.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath.

He was observing her and reading her heart the following second…

*

Marissa's excited smile quickly turned to an "awful" scowl as she witnessed the unfolding thing between Ryan and a pretty girl.

With capricious thoughts.

—She had been discreetly flirting with Ryan, this new guy she was interested in, but as soon as she took her gaze away from him, he transferred his attention to some other girl who was much more beautiful than herself.

Wait…

Marissa soon recognized the girl as Holly's cousin.

Naomi Clark…

Putting a name on the face, Marissa was suddenly biting her thumbnail, disgraced for no apparent reason, longing to return to the beach from which she had just come by strolling beside Summer.

Holly was already enough to be identified as a girl from one of Newport's flush families.

In recent days, however, Naomi, Holly's cousin, who was visiting her relatives and Holly, had been discussed to come from an even flusher family.

She was from the adjacent city of Los Angeles. And since she was from Beverly Hills, she had a gripping, puzzling, and amazing pedigree that everyone tried to guess and question Holly about…

As a result of this, as well as the booze she had downed in secret prior to attending the afterparty, Marissa was quickly turning sick to her stomach.

What annoyed her even more was that Ryan was laughing with Naomi, having no clue what kind of distinguished person Naomi was.

Marissa also noticed that he didn't seem to care what she herself thought, or that he hadn't noticed her presence because she was still standing on the terrace a long distance away.

*

Marissa's thoughts were disorganized, lacking the coherence required to operate decently.

Her mind was unraveling, and she was crying out for help internally.

Stiles grinned and stopped reading her heart.

—getting sick to his own stomach.

If he could, that is…

He started to feel a familiar human sensation that only humans could truly undergo.

It wasn't because he disfavored Marissa that much, but because he was beat out by the chaotic and ill-considered tendencies she oftentimes displayed in these situations all at once.

He had suddenly been vanquished by her mercurial thoughts.

Things was…

So far, he had made an effort not to read her.

She had to mature before he could do that all the time…

He didn't want to become ill.

He would feel worthless as a werewolf.

Stiles chuckled.

The next thing he knew, he was coming near Marissa and his girlfriend Summer, asking innocently and concernedly, "What's wrong with your face, Marissa? You're visibly paling,"

He decided to help, to cure Marissa this time by reminding her of something, or rather someone, with whom she was in a relationship.

Marissa wasn't quite normal in her head just yet, so she needed the assistance.

She imagined herself to be a harem protagonist or something.

She needed to come down to Earth because she wasn't physically or mentally tooled for that.

"Do you have a cold? Should I go and get Luke? You're making me nervous." He asked, becoming more concerned as he spoke.

"Luke? Ah… No, I'm fine." Marissa reacted, blinking quickly as if struck by a shocking flash of insight.

The plot-related thoughts for the good heroine she was supposed to be in this new world seemed to be flooding back to her mind.

Stiles had no idea how long this would continue to be the case and last for her…

All he could tell was that she was expected to be a good woman in this world because she was a heroine.

She was supposed to be available for him, but he was naturally indifferent to her.

Stiles had the ability to manipulate his hormones.

To increase or decrease his sexual dispositions and curiosities.

He wasn't going to force himself to be sexually interested in the few girls that his cousin Ryan had the potential to be passionately in love with.

And he wasn't curious about Marissa in the first place, for justifications that didn't need to be furthered.

"Luke? What's wrong with her?" Summer asked her boyfriend, bewildered.

She was staring at Marissa with curiosity when he stated, "For a brief moment, she seemed to be getting a cold. My bad for misjudging."

"You're some kind of doctor now?" Summer grinned, her expression threatening. "You're not suddenly into my best friend, are you? Was that some new flirtatious move?"

Marissa's mind was still elsewhere; she couldn't stop glancing at Ryan when Stiles replied to Summer, "I wasn't flirting. I only have you in my sights."

"Yuck! A word of advice! Keep those type of corny words to yourself in the future!" Summer made a vomiting motion in response to the cheesy phrase.

Inside, she was overjoyed and on cloud seven.

Stiles couldn't help but grin as he said, "I'll keep those between us."

"You're getting disgusting! Okay, enough of this! Marissa, let's leave this creep alone and go get us some drinks! I can't with him!" Summer grabbed Marissa and exclaimed loudly over the music.

The two of them entered the beach house the next second, taking Marissa out of her still slightly envious thoughts.

Stiles smiled as he was left alone.

The next thing he knew, he felt a gaze on himself from somewhere.

It came from a location on the beach.

Luke was the one.

Luke was staring at him, and he was whispering something to Jackson. Asking something rather…

Something cute.

Marissa?

'I have zero interest in your girl, buddy. Relax' Stiles thought for a second.

Following that, he was strolling there, considering socializing with other rich kids.

**********************************

A half-hour or less later.

Stiles' hoped-for miracle came true.

The party went off without a hitch.

Until now...

"Yo, this guy's a hilarious blast! Where you from, new guy?" As someone approached the bonfire where Stiles was engaged in silly and immature activities with Jackson, Luke, and a few others, they asked a question.

"A place where your mother gets some of this vitamin D at night." Stiles retorted with extreme rudeness.

Most of these guys were douchebags, so he didn't care about being polite and just acted emphatic and demoed his intensity.

They could tell Stiles wasn't from a wealthy family, so they were waiting for him to make a mistake.

The dude who posed the question had his own girlfriend inside the beach house, but harbored intense feelings for Summer.

He had heard that Summer had a boyfriend now after so many years, and just found out that it was Stiles.

He was determined to humiliate Stiles.

"WOOOOWww!!!!"

"hOTDammn!"

"Shit! This one is a stinger!!!"

As Stiles uttered his response, intending to leave the beach and the party after ensuring Summer's safe return home, those who overheard his rude remark reacted with a collective gasp of shock and disbelief.

His unexpected exhibition of rhetorical harshness astounded everyone.

It felt unneeded, but was sport.

All the men gathered around the bonfire were absorbed in the foolish and impolite sporting activities, eagerly anticipating the boldness displayed by the most authentic and confrontational participants, so far only in terms of verbal aggression.

The realest ones, as they say.

—If spoiled rich kids like these really even understood what being real meant...

Stiles had buried a body for his best friend, Cora... So he knew.

Stiles, who was all too familiar with the atmosphere, understood the dynamics at work.

It was clear that things would soon devolve into a physical or athletic confrontation.

Stiles had never been a part of the douchebag culture in his previous life, not because he didn't want to, but because he had never needed to.

He was an unappealing target for provocation or mockery due to his far above-average stature, strength, and retaliatory ability.

He was among the larger, stronger men who had the natural advantage of being able to outrun and outmaneuver those of lesser stature.

It was an alien gift conferred upon him at a young age that he did not put to good use because he was lazy and ignorant for far too long.

He had no idea where it could have pushed him in life, because he had never taken athletics seriously, not even the combat sports he had participated in when he was too young against his will.

The werewolf aspect of his new existence compensated for any physical weakness he might have had in his current form.

"Wait... Did you just insult my mother?" the person whom Stiles had responded to asked, feeling both embarrassed by the rude remark and envious of Stiles for having Summer as his girlfriend.

He stood tall, but his legs and waist, which were typically a source of great strength, felt unsteady and shaky to Stiles.

More so since he was intoxicated like everyone else.

There was no need to discuss his back and arms since they were comparatively weaker.

"Take it easy," Stiles remarked without turning around to acknowledge the individuals who were still laughing and mocking his intended target. "Jackson, Luke, it's been nice getting to know you guys, but I think it's time for me to be off. Things are getting stale here."

He hastened his departure, realizing that if he lingered any longer, his emotional intelligence would plummet, leading him to engage in further unnecessary conversations and actions.

Jackson and Luke stood out as the only two individuals who exhibited some level of straightforwardness amidst this prevalent douchebag gathering and culture.

However, breaking free from this environment wasn't a simple task for them either.

Being completely honest and speaking things as they truly were in this context would likely be perceived as eccentric or even unhinged.

This was especially true when there were unfamiliar individuals present within the group.

*

Just a few moments later, the person whom Stiles had rudely responded to, contemplating following and confronting him, was intercepted by Luke.

Luke stepped in and intervened, saying, "That guy who made the remark is actually dating my girlfriend's best friend. Just let it go."

"Besides, you provoked him by trying to expose his background and upbringing."

"You think nobody here caught that?"

"Everyone around here knows you've had some little crush on Summer for ages," Jackson chuckled, echoing Luke's earlier statement. He followed it with a slight sigh, admitting, "Although I can't quite grasp what all of you see in her..."

"Let me go, Luke! I'm going to teach that guy a lesson for disrespecting my mother!" The random guy infatuated with Summer shouted in a furious rage.

He was capable of dishing out criticism and insults, but he couldn't handle receiving them in return.

Stiles who was still paying attention found himself witnessing the typical scenario of someone demanding to be released, the "LET ME GO" routine that far too many individuals resorted to.

However, he believed that only the weak engaged in such behavior prior to physical altercations.

True brutes possessed both the primal instinct and the madness to unleash their aggression upon friends and foes alike, without hesitation or discrimination.

A smirk formed on Stiles' face as he made his way back to the beach house, amused by the other guy's futile cries of "LET ME GO," or rather, a hidden plea of "PLEASE STOP ME."

In his previous life, he had encountered numerous pseudo-tough individuals who exhibited such behavior around him.

It was nothing more than a feeble and indecisive cry for help from a man lacking true strength.

It was lame.

People of this nature often lacked the ability to engage in one-on-one combat without the support of a group resorting to unfair tactics.

**********************************

A few moments later.

Stiles was suddenly uninterested in attending another party for a long time after this one.

He found it tedious.

It was tedious not to fight too.

He preferred to steer clear of douchebags for various reasons.

One of the most revolting aspects of people who acted tough like douchebags was their willingness to press charges, which added to their own annoying complicated ways.

Summer was the only thing that really went right for Stiles tonight.

Unlike Seth, he could truly refer to her as his little angel.

He was leaving the afterparty on a high note, accompanied by the ecstatic, expectant Ryan, who had just experienced a memorable kiss from Naomi, and the ecstatic, expectant Seth, who had successfully obtained his first ever love digits from Erin.

—However, another, more concerning issue arose.

Naturally.

And as it should with Marissa in any vicinity.

"Where in the hell were you, Stiles!" Summer confronted her boyfriend as she waited for him somewhere around the beach house's entrance.

He was also looking for her and found her.

She was with Holly and a tall, slim girl who was sleeping on the ground on her back with her face inside something foul.

"I've been searching all over for you," She continued, her voice tinged with concern. "Something's wrong with Marissa; she's completely intoxicated and fainted!"

"She won't wake up, and she won't stop puking her freakin guts out!"

"We need to take her home ASAP!"

"It's not like I got a car, but what do you mean home?" Stiles sighed as he remembered the episode's normal ending. "Shouldn't we take her to the hospital first?"

"That's the normal way to do it if she's sick."

Deep down, he meditated the possibility that if Marissa's mother had been aware of her daughter's appalling alcoholism earlier, intervention and treatment could have been initiated sooner.

He also wanted to avoid the consequences of leaving Marissa's unconscious body in front of her house.

Summer and Holly really treated her like disposable trash in the episode.

Stiles was only looking for a cute girlfriend, so this option was out…

"Marissa?" Ryan was taken aback when he saw the fainted garbage in front of him.

Marissa sleeping with her head in her vomit on the ground had a shocking visual impact on him.

**********************************

Author's Note.

Stiles will probably be bored with parties for a long time after this.

I think he will stay a bit home from now on.