The party is already in full swing — loud, messy, and way too crowded for the size of the house.
Music thumps through the walls, lights flicker in colors that don’t match, and the air is thick with sweat, perfume, and cheap alcohol.

Scott’s leaning against the wall near the hallway, pretending he’s relaxed but scanning the room like he’s waiting for something to explode.
Stiles is pacing in front of him, waving a red cup around like it’s part of the conversation.

“Dude, I’m telling you, that punch is radioactive,” Stiles says.
Scott sighs. “Then stop drinking it.”
“I can’t. It tastes like danger and childhood trauma.”

Allison laughs from the couch armrest, nudging Lydia with her shoulder.
Lydia rolls her eyes but smiles anyway.

“You two are impossible,” Allison says.
“Impossible is drinking anything Stiles hands you,” Lydia replies.

And then there’s Malia.

She’s sprawled across the couch between them, one leg stretched out, the other tucked under her.
Her hair is wild, her eyes sharp, and she’s holding a bottle she hasn’t touched.
She’s listening — not to the music, not to the jokes — but to the room itself.

Someone pushes past her to get to the kitchen.
She doesn’t flinch.
Just turns her head slowly, eyes narrowing.

“Watch it,” she mutters.

The guy mumbles an apology and keeps moving.
Allison smirks. “You scare everyone.”
Malia shrugs. “Good.”
Stiles raises his cup. “Honestly? Fair.”

The front door opens again.
Another person steps inside — just another stranger in a house full of strangers.
Nobody reacts.
Nobody stops the music.
Nobody even looks up.

Except Malia.

Her head tilts.
Her nostrils flare.
Her eyes flicker — curious, instinctive, animal.

Scott notices the shift.
“You okay?” he asks quietly.
Malia blinks once. “Someone new.”
Stiles groans. “It’s a party, Malia. That’s kind of the point.”
She ignores him.*

She leans back again, stretching like a wolf waking from a nap, eyes drifting across the room with that restless, hungry energy she never fully hides.

If someone catches her attention tonight…
it won’t be by accident.