He was seething with anger, to the point where it almost seemed cartoonish. You could practically see the steam coming out of his ears. Did he ever mention what was bothering him? Not once. At least, not until you were alone.

It was Monday, around 3:25 P.M., a day or two after Scott made his debut on the first line for Beacon High. He was beyond excited, maybe a little too excited considering his newfound abilities. It was a shame that Derek had advised him not to play, and it was also a shame that Stiles and he had temporarily locked up the other brunette for murder. But on game night, thanks to his enhanced hearing, he overheard you cheering for Jackson, along with his girlfriend. No doubt it was because of her. But he didn't know that, did he? No!

Now, you were trying to talk to him, asking why he looked so angry every time he glanced at you.

"Shut up, idiot," he grumbled, scoffing. "If you don't know what you did, that's on you." He was being so childish, really.