Erica’s not sure what she’s expecting when she wakes up the morning after she’s been bitten. It certainly wasn’t Derek sitting in the purple dish chair she got when she was eleven.
He doesn’t really fit right, all black leather and hard muscle against the faded well-loved lilac. Erica had begged her mom for the chair the second she saw it in Target and curled up inside it. The argument mostly dealt with its height and how easy it would be for her to fall and crack her head on the floor if she had a seizure. The compromise was the plush shag rug Derek’s boots were engulfed in.
“I need a third.” Derek’s low commanding voice startled her out wandering thoughts and she was surprised by the need to listen to his every word.
“I need a third Beta, do you have any suggestions?”
“Is that how you found me, did Isaac—“
“Yes. Do you know anyone?”
If there’s one thing Erica absolutely cannot stand it’s being interrupted so she wants to sass back, no she doesn’t know anyone who’d want to become a werewolf, it’s not like anyone talked to her if they weren’t making fun of her. But he’s the Alpha and the need to obey is so compelling it brings someone to mind.
If she’s going to be honest she’s been watching him ever since he moved to Beacon Hills in the middle of freshmen year. He was tall and solid and most importantly, in control. His every action seemed to have purpose. Despite already being six feet tall and long-limbed his body didn’t do anything he didn’t want it to. And she envied him so much. Even the kids who made fun of her still had moments when their own bodies failed them. They tripped on air, leaned back in chairs with poor balance, ran into doors or lockers, sometimes their books just fell out of their hands for no reason. This never happened to Boyd. He had a stillness about him that was fascinating to Erica. Sometimes she thought if she watched him long enough she could learn to control her own body in the same manner. Maybe she could beat her epilepsy through force of will.
He was also alone. Like she had been. Like Isaac had been. And maybe she has control of her body now. Maybe she won’t ever have another seizure again. But she still craves the stillness of Boyd. His steady presence in the cafeteria or class. The calmness that surrounds the air around him. If anyone could control the beast Derek would ask them to become it would be Boyd.
So she rises from her bed, absently noticing her face in the mirror behind Derek, free of pimples and cold sores and let’s a Lydia Martin smirk fall upon her lips.
“Vernon Boyd, you can find him at the ice rink.”