dyke

Steve has no idea why he thinks about that blond so much. Loud-mouthed, disrespectful, never pleasant.

Steve keeps showing up at the community pool, even though he has a pool at home. Dustin even asks him one day, "Why are you always here? I mean... doesn't your own pool work anymore?"

Steve doesn't answer. He lets his sunglasses hide his eyes, completely transfixed by Hargrove, shirtless, his skin gleaming under the sun as he argues with a bunch of bratty kids.

Even at a party, distracted while talking and laughing with Robin, Steve's attention is always stolen the moment Billy makes his presence known. He tries. He really tries to pay attention to the conversation, to the way Robin dances awkwardly or how she's terrible at flirting. But it's impossible. Impossible for his eyes not to drift toward the way Billy holds a cigarette like he doesn't have a care in the world, how effortless and razor-sharp his smile becomes whenever he spots a pretty girl he's interested in, how Billy easily broke his record by becoming the new Keg King, and how he never misses a chance to brag about it.

Steve dreams about Billy.

He doesn't want to. He hates Hargrove's guts. But there he is. That razor-sharp smile. That infuriating confidence. That low, arrogant voice saying, "What's up, pretty boy?" as he closes in on Steve, trapping him against the locker room bathroom wall. Steve feels his skin prickle. At the same time he wants to shove Billy away and fucking punch him in the face, he also wants to see just how far this teasing will go. Billy lets out a quiet laugh, his warm breath brushing against Steve's face.

"Cat got your tongue?"

Steve wakes up.

He's drenched in sweat, doesn't know where he is, feels drunk. Shame crashes over him the moment he realizes what that dream did to him.

He's hard.

And he can't deny it anymore.