Lesson #8: Learn how to apologize

I waited in the car while Derek ran into the store for the ice cream. I was pretty sure it didn't take long to get ice cream, but I was glad he left the heat on anyways. While I was sitting there listening to Derek's Spotify playlist, my phone started buzzing. I dug it out of my pocket and turned the music down before answering.

"Scott, what's up?" I answered, a little guilty. He asked me to hang out tonight, but I had to tell him no. Derek made plans with me first, so it would have been rude to ditch him. Even if I did miss hanging out with Scott so much, I was having fun hanging with Derek. And it wasn't that I didn't want Scott hanging out with me and Derek, but I had a feeling Scott didn't approve of what Derek and I were up to.

"I know you're not really hanging out with your dad tonight," he accused, his tone more sad than angry. It made my chest tight. I was being a horrible best friend, wasn't I? Maybe more like a horrible person. "He's on patrol. Allison told me."

"You're hanging out with Allison now?" I asked, unintentionally changing the subject. I had no idea they were even talking in the first place, which only made me feel worse. How could I not know Scott was talking to a girl?

Scott sighed, now sounding a little angry. "Not the point Stiles. Why did you lie to me? We agreed, no more hiding things. Or did you forget about that conversation because it's been so long since we've even talked to each other?"

"I'm sorry, Scott," was all I could think of to say. There was nothing else. No excuses. I was just a dick. "I already had plans with Derek, but for some reason, I didn't want to tell you. I don't know what's gotten into me lately. I promise, we can hang out tomorrow. I'm really sorry."

"It sounds like Derek has you on a leash," Scott nearly growled. "You said you two were helping each other, not that you were friends. I don't care if you are friends, but you can't just drop me like I'm nothing. I've been there for you since day one, Stiles. When it comes down to it, Derek would rather have his popularity than your friendship. Just remember that." As soon as he hung up on me, Derek opened his door and slid into his seat, dropping a grocery bag full of ice cream in my lap.

"I couldn't pick one flavor, so I grabbed three," he explained, looking away with an embarrassed look.

I smiled a little, shaking my head. I couldn't get Scott's words out of my head, but I didn't want Derek to think anything was wrong. "That's alright. We'll eat it," I assured him. We drove back to my house in silence. I used those few minutes to think about what I was going to say to Derek tonight. Scott was right. Derek would always choose his popularity over me, and I knew that. I was using him for his popularity anyways, right? So why did Scott's words hurt so much? I already knew how Derek felt about me. He said we were friends, but we weren't. Not really. Not even close.

Once we were at my house, we displayed our ice cream flavors out in front of us on the coffee table. We each had a spoon and once Fight Club started playing, we started digging in. I wasn't paying much attention to the movie. I was lost in thought, worrying about how this night was going to end.

"Stiles, you stopped stuffing your face. What's wrong?" Derek asked, licking the chocolate ice cream off his spoon before setting it down on the table. He turned his entire body to face me, giving me his full attention. I was already nervous, but now he was pushing me to talk before I was ready. "You alright? Still thinking about what happened earlier?" he guessed, raising an eyebrow.

"Sort of," I sighed, crossing my legs under me. "I'm also thinking about us."

Derek raised an eyebrow, his face contorting into a look I couldn't read before quickly dissolving into confusion. "What about us?"

I rubbed my hands together nervously, glancing away from his eyes for a few seconds to catch my breath. This was what I wanted, so why was I getting all worked up? "I just mean, like. . . our relationship. We're starting to lose focus. This friendship, or whatever it is, is getting in the way of what we set out to do. Don't you agree? We haven't made much progress with getting Lydia to even look at me. You haven't improved all that much on your calculus tests. I mean, we've been spending so much time just hanging out that we're not really on the right track anymore." I knew I was rambling and had probably said the wrong thing, judging by the hurt look on Derek's face. Maybe I was being too harsh. "Not that I don't like being your friend, but we both know that in the end, we're not going to stay friends. You care too much about your reputation. And that's okay. I'm just saying, we should stop hanging out so much."

Derek looked hurt before, but after I finished, it was more of an angry look. What the hell did he even have to be angry about? I was right, whether he wanted to admit it or not. "You really feel that way?" he asked, his words short. I hesitated, but slowly nodded my head. I didn't feel I had anything left to say. "I should go. I really don't feel like getting in a fight with you tonight," he grumbled, standing up swiftly from the couch.

"What the hell do you mean?" I demanded, watching him angrily shove his feet into his shoes. "What did I say that made you so angry? It's the truth, Derek!"

He shook his head, still facing away from me. "I said I don't want to fight."

"Why would we fight?" I retorted, jumping off the couch to follow him to the door. He wasn't just going to say 'no fighting' and then leave as if that would solve the issue. I didn't want him to be angry with me, I just wanted us to be more professional. "Derek, you know I'm right. We're never going to be friends. You're too embarrassed to be seen with me in public as it is, so why would it ever change?"

The speed at which he spun around almost knocked me over. His face was red with anger. "It's not about popularity for me," he spat, stepping even closer to me. I was speechless. I had never seen him so upset before, and especially not with me. I just let him go off. "I don't care about who your friends are, what you wear, who you date. None of that matters to me. What matters is the kind of person you are. If you had told me, that day in the locker room, that you wanted to be friends with me. . . if you had said that instead of asking me for help with Lydia, we would be friends. And not just hanging out in secret and going forty five minutes to the mall kind of friends, but the kind who hang out where ever they want." He was fuming, his voice louder than I had ever heard it before. Still speechless, I only opened my mouth, trying to form words. I had nothing. "I'm not shallow like Lydia. I wouldn't lead you on, make you feel like shit, or anything like that. I'm a good person. But you just have to be like every other horny teenage boy at Beacon Hills. You want her because she's pretty. And if that's what you want, fine. Just know you're choosing that over being friends with me. That's all." After he said his piece, he flung open the front door.

The gush of wind hit me hard, only then did I realize my eyes were watering. "Derek," I mumbled, but he was already leaving. He stopped before closing the door behind him, giving me one last chance to save whatever it was we had. I didn't know what to do. "I-" I started, but nothing came out. For a moment, we just stared at each other. I hoped the look of desperation on my face said what I couldn't bring myself to say, but Derek shook his head and shut the door as he left, probably for good.

After he left, I wanted to kick something. I had a lot of thoughts and feelings going on, but I couldn't sort them out. Was I angry? Hurt? Relieved? I wasn't sure. I cleaned up the living room, putting away the ice cream and turning off the television. I walked back into the kitchen to find some comfort food, only to be stopped by my dad, who hadn't left his room since Derek got there earlier.

"I heard some yelling," he observed, calmly leaning against the counter as he brewed a pot of coffee. "That boy from this morning?" he wondered, no judgement in his voice.

I sighed, sitting down at the table. I stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out what I wanted to say. At first, I didn't want to talk about it. But the longer I sat there, the more I wanted to vent. Who better to vent to than my dad? "Yeah, it was Derek. We had a fight."

"What kind of fight?" he pried, watching me carefully. I had a feeling he wasn't going to leave me alone until I talked this out. "Like how you and Scott sometimes fight, or was it more. . . you know?"

I took a deep breath, trying to wrap my head around what that fight was. I came to a sudden realization. Something I had been running from my whole life, until I found someone who made it hard to run. "Dad," I mumbled, staring at my feet. "I'm bisexual."

I had never said that out loud, and I had hardly ever let myself even think about it. Saying it to my dad should have been terrifying, but it just felt like we were having a conversation as normal. "So is Derek your-"

"No," I cut him off, quickly. "Derek has been helping me win over a girl that I like. We've been getting really close lately and because I don't want to end up having feelings for him, I suggested that we take a step back and just try to keep our relationship professional. He kind of freaked out on me." I guess it was more than that, but my dad would never understand the complexity of all of that.

"Have you considered that he might like you?" dad asked, bringing his cup of coffee to join me at the table. "Maybe he got upset because he has feelings for you. Do you think that's possible?"

I shrugged, tracing the lines on the table. "Maybe," I mumbled. "But that wasn't what he was angry about. I said some pretty shallow things. I just. . . I really like Lydia. I didn't want any other feelings getting in the way."

I sounded like an idiot, but at least my dad didn't look at me like I was one. I could sense that he thought it too, but he didn't show it. "Okay, so tell me this. Why are you afraid of having feelings for Derek?" I felt like I was in a therapy session. After my mom died, I went to plenty of those. They were always saying things like "tell me how you feel about this" or "why are you afraid of that".  With them, it was annoying. With my dad, I just felt awkward.

I thought about it for a long time, eventually deciding to just let the word vomit do its thing. "I don't want to have feelings for Derek because I've liked Lydia since elementary school. I want to be with her, not anyone else. And I also don't want anyone to know I'm bisexual. Nobody at school cares if you're gay or straight, but if you're bisexual, they say you're just looking for attention." I took a deep breath, completely shocked I had said any of that. "Derek is a really great guy. He does things for me that nobody else would ever do, not even Scott. He's good looking, and he tries really hard at everything he does. He would never hurt me. Ever. But I just can't think about him that way. I want Lydia."

Dad covered up a smirk behind his coffee cup, but I saw it anyways. "It sounds to me like you already think about him that way," he argued, which only pissed me off. He noticed my angry, red face and held up a hand to stop me from blowing up on him for saying something like that. "Just hear me out," he insisted, meeting my eyes. "Tell me why you like Lydia so much."

I thought this was going to be easy, considering how much I liked her, but as soon as he asked, my mind came up blank. I was put on the spot, was all. "Well," I mumbled eventually, coming up with something, just to try and prove him wrong. "Lydia is beautiful. She acts like she doesn't know what's going on in class, but she's actually really smart. She- well, I mean, she gets around a lot, but that's just because she hasn't met the right guy yet. Which is me, by the way. When she finally talks to me, she'll see how great I am."

Dad raised an eyebrow, staring at me for a long time. "Son, you just told me about five things you love about your 'friend' Derek, but all you could come up with for the girl you're in love with is that she's beautiful and she plays stupid so people will like her?" He kept staring at me, waiting for me to realize what he was saying. I knew what he was saying, but I didn't care. I wasn't going to admit that I liked Derek as more than a friend. Because I didn't. That was the thing I was trying to avoid. "Stiles, just be careful. I don't want you to end up with a broken heart."

"Dad, I won't," I promised, though I had no way of making sure that didn't happen. "I'm gonna go to bed. I have to get up early to go to Derek's tomorrow. Scott and I are hanging out in the afternoon, but I have to apologize to Derek."

"Good luck," dad said, waving me off to bed.

Once I was in the safety of my own room, without my dad trying to convince me I liked Derek, I could finally focus on what I was going to say to him tomorrow. I had to come up with an apology, but I wasn't going to take back what I said about wanting to have a more professional relationship. I would just apologize for calling him shallow. That would be good, right?

"Stiles, you're an idiot," I mumbled to myself, pacing around my room in a circle. I realized at that moment, Derek hadn't given me another lesson for the day. What were we on? Number eight? I had a good one for myself. Lesson number eight: learn how to apologize. I had to get on Derek's good side again, otherwise I'd never speak a word to Lydia Martin.