#1-800-M%D !

What a fucking waste of time. You slipped off him, falling down onto the bouncing mattress beside him with a sour look on your face, perfectly shaped brows—thank you, Tina—dipping low.

The guy had looked so promising at the mall, with chocolatey curls and a sinful glint in his eyes that had you thinking he must have somewhat experience with picking up girls.

Picking them up? Yes, perhaps. Making them actually fucking orgasm? Big fat no on that front.

When his breathing slowed and his eyes slowly began to flutter open, he turned to you with a questioning look in his eyes. “Do you want me to finish you off?”

Your eyes flickered to him once more. Yeah, no. You could do without carpet burn on your flaps and your insides getting skewered like a shish kebab.

Instead of accepting, you sat up and swung your legs over the side of the bed, gathering the clothes strewn about. “Actually, I gotta go.” Clasping your bra shut, you hurriedly pulled your shirt over your head, shimmying your pants over your ass. “You can drive me to the roller rink, though.”

“Sure thing, babe.”

You scrunched up your nose at the nickname, remaining silent as you zipped up your maroon boots and fluffed out your hair. “Let’s go,” you said, swinging your purse over your shoulder, the reddish leather matching the one on your feet.

“Already?” he asked, stretching his arms out with a tired yawn. “Don’t you wanna, like, stay a little? Get a bit of a cuddle in, maybe?”

“I would,” you said—over your dead body—sighing in false frustration as you gifted him a pitiful look. “Gotta meet my friends, though.” Before he could say anything else, you told him you would wait for him at his car and turned on your heel. You wanted to go home and take a shower and scrub off whatever dirt was now clinging to your skin, but the thought of a greasy burger and cheesy fries made your stomach grumble.

Plopping down in the passenger seat of the old Ford, you opened the visor, eyeing yourself in the small dusty mirror. Fixing the black smudges beneath your eyes, you re-applied the berry-colored lipstick, tapping whatever residue was left on your fingers onto your cheeks.

The drive to the roller ink was quiet—thank fuck—with merely a radio station playing softly in the background. Your head was turned to the right, watching as you passed through familiar neighborhoods that all looked eerily similar. Simple houses with chipping paint, head-dried lawns and colored minivans in the driveways. Welcome to suburbia.

The moment the car rolled to a stop in front of the roller rink—you weren’t even certain if it had fully stopped—you shoved the car door open. “Bye, Peter.”

“Patrick,” he corrected, a frown sliding onto his face as he stared after your retreating form.

“Right, sorry,” you said, closing the door behind you. “See you around.” When you took note of the car not departing, you quickened your steps, concerned that Patrick would actually follow you and demand your telephone number.

Inside the lowly lit establishment, you greeted the familiar clerk with a wave of your hand, heading straight for one of the booths surrounding the rink. You stopped in front of the booth with your friends, eyeing the only free spot right across from Tina and beside Billy—who gave no indication that he planned to move over.

A sly grin was directed toward you, before he cocked his head and patted one of his beefy thighs. “Got room for you right here, Cherry Baby.”

You rolled your eyes. “Scoot.”

He did no such thing, merely making a show of spreading his legs wider, resting his left arm on the back of the booth with a shit-eating grin.

Huffing, you slapped his arm. “Scoot over, you nitwit.”

He laughed, deep and throaty, making space for you to sit down beside him. “You’re always so harsh, Cherry Baby,” he grinned with a wink, leaning in and lowering his voice, breath tickling your neck. “I like it.”

You eyed him, raising a brow at the cocky smirk before wordlessly turning your head away, giving your attention to Tina, who had taken a lock of your hair between her fingers.

“Love the touch-up,” she mused and sighed. “I should get my hair dyed, too. What’s that color called again?”

“Dark red,” you answered bluntly, taking the burger and fries Billy was pushing in your direction with a small thanks.

“Geez,” Tommy chuckled at the sour expression on your face. “What crawled up your ass and died?”

Rolling your eyes, you plopped off the top bun, your hand instinctively reaching out to pluck the three little pickled cucumbers off, only to find none there. Your eyes flitted to Billy for just a moment. You always forgot to order your food without them, though apparently he didn’t.

Tina shot Tommy a glare before turning back to you, her fingers retreating from toying with your hair. “Ignore him, Cherry, he’s being mean because Carol wouldn’t take him back this time.”

Tommy scoffed, unfazed by the jab. “Never wanted her back anyway.”

You and Tina shared a look, knowing that by Monday morning Tommy and Carol would be back together as though nothing had happened, dry humping each other at their lockers for everyone else to see.

“Anyway,” Tina started, dipping her fries into a wad of ketchup. “You were late, what were you doing?”

Tommy chimed in. “She means who were you doing?” Extending your leg beneath the table, you delivered a sharp kick to his shin in reply, which had him hissing out his next laugh. “Judging by that and that frown on your face, he wasn’t very satisfying.”

“Tommy, I swear to God, shut your mouth or I’ll tell Carol what happened with Nicole last May,” you threatened, watching as the corners of his mouth dropped within seconds. He mumbled something about you not being able to take a joke before getting up under the pretense of getting another round of milkshakes.

“Serves him right,” Tina giggled, eyes flickering to Billy once in a while, who had taken to frowning at you—no doubt since your prior activities were mentioned. You paid him no mind. “I need Care to take him back, like, yesterday. He’s got such a big mouth when she lets him off the leash, I actually can’t deal with him anymore. He needs to, like, take a chill pill or something.”

“Totally,” you hummed, more interested in dissecting your fries than waste another moment talking about the mess that was Tommy and Carol’s relationship. For the past few months—ever since Carol had seen Tommy drunkenly making out with another girl at a party—the only topic of conversation had been them.

Tina, saying she was going to powder her nose really quickly, stood and disappeared, leaving you alone with Billy.

Noticing him still staring at you, your gaze landed back on the male beside you, looking awfully pleased with… himself or whatever. “What?” You huffed pointedly, taking the tall glass of chocolate milkshake that was resting between his fingers, bringing the straw to your own lips.

Billy watched you, a smirk stretching on his lips, clearly amused by your irritation. “That bad, huh?” His voice was laced with a mix of curiosity and something else—something closer to satisfaction. Instead of answering and giving him what you knew he wanted to hear, you simply hummed and dipped your fry into his milkshake.

Billy leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur as he eyed you through the thickness of his lashes. “Sounds to me like you need someone who actually knows what they’re doing.” He let the suggestion hang in the air, his eyes never leaving yours.

You rolled your eyes, snorting dismissively. “And you’re volunteering? Please.”

He chuckled, undeterred by your sarcasm. “I’m just saying, Cherry Baby, how many times do you have to strike out before you realize you’ve been playing in the minor leagues.” He leaned back, casually draping his arm back across the back of the booth, just barely—but obviously purposefully—brushing your shoulder.

Your gaze wandered back to his, catching the gleam in his eyes. Billy had always been relentless, never missing his chance to flirt with you, no matter how many times you shot him down. Perhaps it was the frustration still buzzing in your veins that made you want to squirm beneath his hungry blue eyes, getting under your skin when he usually wouldn’t.

Instead of giving in, you leaned forward with a sultry lick of your lips, tasting salt and chocolate as you placed your palm on his thigh. His grin widened as you came so terribly close the tips of your noses were almost brushing. “Big talk for a guy who couldn’t get it up last time,” you shot back then, your tone sharp and teasing, knowing the comment would get under his skin like nothing else. You pulled back instantly, watching closely as his grin became rigid, a flash of annoyance crossing his blue orbs.

“Stop with that fucking rumor, Cherry. You know better,” he warned, poking you playfully in the side, making your squirm away as you let out a surprised laugh.

You wrinkled your nose at him, trying to stifle your giggles as he continued to poke at your side. “That rumor’s been making the rounds, though. Heard it being confirmed from a few different girls, in fact.” You knew, of course, that the rumor was just that—high school gossip that Vicki Carmichael had spread when Billy had refused to take her virginity at the New Year’s party. You had been there to see her running out of the bustling house with tears streaming down her face and Billy casually sauntering out of one of the rooms with a cigarette hanging from his lips.

Billy’s grin widened then as he leaned in even closer, his breath warm against your ear, your cheek, your neck. “If you don’t believe me, I could always prove it to you.” His hand slid from the back of the booth to rest on your thigh, much like you had done to him only moments prior, his touch light but deliberate. “Trust me, Cherry Baby, that’s a ride you wouldn’t regret.” His grin was wolfish, his grip on your thigh tightening just slightly.

You raised a brow, a mixture of curiosity and skepticism crossing your face as you hummed. “And how exactly… would you prove it?”

Billy’s eyes gleamed with a playful confidence that you had heard was well-earned by most of the females in the senior class. “Well, if you’re up for it, we could find out tonight. You let me take you out and I’ll show you firsthand that I’m as good as my word.”

You looked him over, close to actually weighing your option with how sure he was of himself. His persistence was almost endearing, you thought. And for the first time since you had known him, there was a part of you that was tempted to see where this could lead. But you had standards, and being one of Billy’s trophies was not something that would land on your bucket list anytime soon.

“Nice try, Billy Boy,” you said, taking his hand off your thigh and dropping it back in his lap. “Maybe another time.”

His smile faltered ever so slightly, but he recovered, giving a scoff much like Tommy had done when you had threatened to tell on him, mumbling ‘your loss’ under his breath as he took back the milkshake you had stolen.

Tina reappeared, plopping back into her seat with a bright smile and her hair in a different updo than it had been when she left. “Miss me?” She chirped, completely oblivious to whatever it was that she had just interrupted.

“Always,” you replied lightly, watching as she pulled a scrap of paper from the back pocket of her pants.

She held it out for you, nodding over to the other table across from the rink. “The cute guy in blue asked me to give this to you,” Tina grinned with a wink.

You unfolded the paper, finding a telephone number hastily scribbled down. Brows rising, you eyed the brown-haired guy on the other side of the rink, only to find him already looking at you. He was cute. You took two quick bites of the burger, washing it down with a few sips of the milkshake that Billy refused to hand back to you before standing and shouldering your purse.

“Teeth check,” you said, and Tina was alert immediately, eyeing your teeth closely for any remnants of food. She gave a thumbs-up and you winked at her, telling them you would see them later as you headed to the other side of the rink.

Billy watched from where he remained seated as you came to a halt on the other side of the rink, holding up the scrap of paper for the guy to see, undoubtedly saying something teasingly rude that—somehow—made guys eat out of your fucking hand. The guy grinned sheepishly at you, scratching at the back of his head, saying something that made you laugh.

Tina sighed from across the table, watching the scene as well, her cheek resting on her hand, a pout on her lips. “I swear, it’s like she’s got a magnetic pull or something,” she muttered, her tone a mixture of admiration and perhaps even a little bit of frustration. “She breathes and guys just come crawling, it’s so unfair.”

Billy on the other hand was less impressed, in fact, he was pretty fucking pissed at the scene. His gaze was sharp as he followed every move you made, his jaw tightening as he watched you laugh, clearly enjoying the other guy’s attention. When he spotted the other guy getting up, leading you out of the door of the rink, he huffed bitterly, grabbing half the burger and fries you had left behind.

Tommy returned, three fresh milkshakes in his grasp, eyeing the empty spot. “Where did Red Hot go?”

“Picked up a guy and left,” Tina pouted, curling her fingers in her dark brown locks. “I should dye my hair, shouldn’t I?”

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You lay sprawled across the backseat of Jake’s car, your breath coming in heavy, satisfied pants, the interior dimly lit by the soft glow of streetlamps, casting a warm glow over your flushed skin. The aftermath of the—impromptu—encounter lingered in the air, though you definitely weren’t complaining. Jake, equally exhausted, sat slouched against the backrest, his breathing gradually slowing as he kept glancing over at you. You turned your head slightly, catching his eyes with a content grin as you patted his shoulder and sat up, ready for departure. “Thanks for that.”

Jake looked back at you, a little taken aback despite the smugness that had been on his face. “Anytime,” he nodded. “Call me sometime?”

You chuckled softly, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. “Sure thing,” you said, tone light and free of any commitment whatsoever. “I’ll definitely give you a ring.”

His smile widened, clearly pleased with your response. He reached forward and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek. “I’ll be waiting.”

With a final wink, you fixed the fly of your jeans, pulling your top back down. “See you,” you hummed as you opened the car door.

He bid you goodnight, his voice trailing off as you stepped outside without looking back. You were met with the cool night air of Hawkins, the crispness of the evening washing over you. The streets were quiet, bathed in the soft light of the scarce streetlamps that cast long shadows on the empty roads. You took a deep breath, savoring the solitude as you began your short walk home. You passed a couple of familiar spots—the old diner, the park where you and your middle school friends used to hang out, the library that had long since closed—moving with practiced ease. When you rounded the corner onto your street, the lights of your house came into view.

You quickened your pace, eager to get inside and unwind comfortably on your bed, maybe call Tina and tell her how it went, knowing she would question you tomorrow anyway. Quietly, you opened the front door and slipped inside, closing it softly behind you. Your mom was perched on the edge of the couch, a magazine resting forgotten in her lap as she looked up to you through her reading glasses with a curious smile. “Hey, honey,” she greeted, her tone warm. “How was the roller rink? Did you have fun?”

You offered her a tired, though genuine smile as you slipped off your boots and put them beside the door. “Yeah, it was pretty good.” As you started toward the stairs, she suddenly sighed and shook her head. “You know, you should stop dyeing your hair that awful color. You’ll never bring home a boyfriend looking like that.”

You offered her a disinterested ‘I know’ in response, receiving the same comment each time you re-applied the color, and headed up the stairs.

The first thing you noticed was the answering machine, its red light blinking insistently. You crossed the room, stepping over some clothes that were strewn about, sliding out of what you were currently wearing and tossing it to join the pile carelessly. You grabbed a big shirt—a relic that a fling of yours had to leave behind after you had shoved him out of your window onto the roof when your mom had come home early one day. It was washed out and slightly ripped by now, though still the most comfortable thing you owned by far.

Pulling on the shirt, you took a packet of makeup wipes with you as you settled on the bed, pressing play on the answering machine. The first message was from Carol, her voice edged with frustration as she began to rant about Tommy, and how he was being such a jerk, before she ended the long message with a ‘call me back when you get the chance’. You rolled your eyes, wanting to just plop your eardrums and avoid hearing it all again—still, you knew you would call her back anyway. The second message began to play and you groaned. “Hey, it’s Carol again. Seriously, this is getting ridiculous. He was being all sweet again and now he’s back to being an ass. Call me!” The third message was more of the same. “Carol again. I don’t know what you’re doing…or with whom, not sure I want to know, but I really need to talk to you. Call me back,” she drawled out the last part until her voice became a mere whine and the message ended.

You were about to fast-forward through the rest when Tina’s message came through, her voice a nice contrast to Carol’s. It was cheerful and full of energy, sweet. “Hey! It’s Tina. I hope you not picking up means it went well this time! You have to call me, like, the second you get home and tell me all about how it went. I’m literally dying to know! Anyway, talk soon, love you!”

You grabbed the phone from your bedside table, your fingers quickly punching in the numbers. You hit dial, waiting as the phone rang. “Hey, finally! Tina’s voice crackled through the receiver, bright and cheery. “I’ve been waiting for your call!”

“Hey, Tee,” you said, trying to match her enthusiasm. “Just got back home actually.”

“Just now?” She screeched excitedly. “Tell me everything. Was it, like, totally tubular or what?”

Before Tina could get too far into her excited questioning, you cut in, a peeping coming from the phone. “Hold on a sec, Tee, I’ve got another call coming in.”

You hit the hold button and switched lines. A screech of your name echoed through the receiver so loudly, you had to hold the phone further away in the hopes of shielding whatever remained of your eardrum.

“Finally!” Caro huffed. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you all night. You won’t believe it. Tommy’s being a total spaz.”

“Ugh,” you made, eyes rolling on their own accord. “What did he do now?”

“Oh my god, Cherry, you wouldn’t believe it. He is such a mess. He called me earlier, saying he wanted to talk things over, and then he starts talking about how he was just so misunderstood and that he didn’t mean it. Like, seriously? That’s such bogus!”

You stifled a yawn, turning onto your back, knowing this was going to be a rambling marathon. “Oh, he is always so full of excuses, isn’t he? He acts like he’s the king of the world or something.”

“Right!” Carol cried out. “And you know what? He—”

Quickly you hit the hold button again, switching back to Tina before you could hear Carol continue. “Hey, Tina,” you hummed, twirling the cable between your fingers. “Sorry about that. You were saying?”

Tina merely giggled. “Oh, just spill the beans! Was he a real stud or another scrub? Did you have a blast, or what?”

“Honestly, he was a bit boring,” you said, scrunching up your nose as you turned back onto your stomach. “But his hands were amazing, if you know what I mean.”

Tina screeched and laughed in reply, beginning to ask another bunch of questions, which you answered until your eyes fell to the clock on your nightstand. “Hold on another moment, babes.”

You switched lines again, just as Carol’s voice was rising in urgency. She sighed unsure. “What do you think?”

“Ugh, he can be such a dick, honestly,” you said, knowing it would satisfy her, confirming everything what she had been saying—whatever that was. “I can’t believe him sometimes. Who does he think he is?”

“Yes!” Carol exclaimed as though you’d just validated her life’s struggles with two sentences. “Totally bonkers! And you know what? He had the nerve to tell me he was having a rough day. Like, seriously? I don’t care if he’s having a rough day, like—” As Carol’s rant picked up, you hit the hold button again, switching back to Tina.

“I’m back,” you said, telling her that Carol was close to combusting on the other line. “I love her, don’t get me wrong,” you started, having been friends with Carol since you had thrown sand at each other in the sandbox and cried together about it. “But I just wanna strangle both her and Tommy with the phone cord sometimes.”

You kept both calls going for about an hour, which had become something of a nightly routine in the past years. You finished chatting with Tina, who had to cut the conversation short because her mother needed the phone. After a brief goodbye, you switched back to Carol, who was still ranting in the background.

“—and then he has the nerve to act like it’s all my fault! Like, seriously, how self-centered can one person be? I just don’t get it!” As her voice died down, you could hear her heave a deep sigh on the other line. “Anyway, enough about Tommy, he’s not worth my time.” Worth over an hour holding her breath in favor of ranting, apparently. “What’s up with you? Are you coming to the party tomorrow?”

“Wait, who’s throwing a party?” You asked, confused. It was the middle of the school year, with no special event in sight. Most parties in Hawkins were thrown on holidays or, sometimes, birthdays, but not on random Saturdays—neighbors were too prone to calling the sheriff about a noise complaint.

Carol’s tone shifted to a more casual, dismissive one. “Don’t know, don’t care. I just know everyone’s going. You have to come, too. I need someone to keep me away from Tommy, he should grovel a little longer before I even think about forgiving him! Plus, I could really use a wing-woman! Help me get Tommy out of my mind. It will be fun, you’ll have a blast, promise!”

“I don’t know, I’ll decide tomorrow, alright?” You said, telling her you were going to go to sleep. Hanging up the phone, you fell back onto the bed with a sigh, finishing removing the make still clinging to your skin. There was no way you were going to that party, you could do well without beer spilling on your shoes and drunken bodies bumping into you left and right. No, thanks.

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The bass of the music thumped through your chest as you navigated the crowded living room, dodging people gyrating to the beat and stumbling over half-empty cups scattered on the floor. The flickering strobe lights created a kaleidoscope of colors that painted the walls and cast erratic shadows over the dancing—stumbling—people. Carol, having arrived already pretty tipsy, was in her element with her arms thrown up into the air as she bounced to the music with excited screams, trying to (and failing) to follow the lyrics.

You laughed at her, trying to keep up with your friends as you swayed to the music. The air was hot and sticky, filled with mixed scents of spice cologne, fruity perfume, and, most of all, sweat. When the shoving and shouting became too much for your sober self to take, you told Carol you were going out for a little bit of fresh air, before slipping through the crowd out the back door into the cool night air. Although not fully quiet, the backyard was a welcome relief from the throbbing beat inside. A few girls and guys were lingering outside having a smoke or little make-out sessions against the shed to the far left. You chuckled at the careless couple, leaning against the cool façade of the house and taking a deep breath, letting the air calm your racing heart.

Just as you were starting to relax, a shadow fell over you. You looked up, finding a guy you vaguely recognized standing before you with a drunken grin. “Hey,” he said with a slur of your name, stepping closer and holding onto the house wall to keep himself from falling over. “You look like you wanna get out of here. How about you come with me? I live real close.”

You straightened up, trying to maintain your composure through the irritation you were feeling. “Yeah, no thanks, I’ll pass.”

He didn’t take the hint—or the blatant rejection. “Come on, don’t be like that. You look like you could use some fun.” Just as he reached out, his hand brushing against your waist, a voice cut through the night air with a sharp edge.

“Hey, shithead!” Billy, a cigarette dangling from his lips, appeared from the darkened edge of the backyard. His eyes narrowed as they fixed on the guy harassing you. Without hesitation, Billy took another long drag from the cigarette and flicked its remnants at the stranger, bud bouncing off the stranger’s chest. “Back off,” he said, stepping closer, his voice low and itching for a fight.

“What’s your problem?” the drunk guy mumbled, clearly having trouble grasping the interruption and also clearly not understanding he would be eating grass in a few short moments if he didn’t back off.

Billy smirked, his confidence radiating—like it always was when he was picking fights. “My problem is you’re bothering someone so far out of your league, she could squash you with the dirt under her boots, you ant. Now, get your ass out of her before I make you regret it.”

The drunk guy, mumbling something neither you or Billy fully understood, stumbled away, eager to rejoin the party and escape further confrontation—which would have ended in a broken nose, no doubt.

Billy turned his attention to you, his smirk turning into a genuine, if slightly teasing, smile. “You alright, Cherry Baby?”

You nodded, threading a thin line between gratefulness and annoyance. It was a relief that the situation had been dealt with so swiftly, but still, you would have been fine handling it by yourself (since the guy had barely managed to stand on his own two legs). “I was just trying to get some air,” you huffed, staying leaned against the wall as you looked him over. Damn him and damn whoever kept selling him these jeans.

Billy looked you over, checking again if you truly were all right before nodding himself. “How about I give you a ride home?”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms to shield yourself from the chilly wind that was flowing through the night. “I barely just got here.”

Billy shrugged, a sly grin spreading on his full lips—on which you might have been able to spy some remnants of a pinkish lipstick. You ignored it as he continued. “How about just a little drive then?”

You gave him a skeptical look. “Are you even sober enough to drive?”

Billy placed one hand over his heart, holding the other up as though he was swearing an oath. “Sober as a nun,” he grinned, pearly whites on display as he lifted one of his legs off the ground. “What do you think?” He leaned to the far left, keeping balance on one foot, acting as though he was going to fall. Repeating the action on the right, he put his pointer finger against his nose and as if he was finishing a show, he bowed at the waist, clearly (mostly) sober.

Despite yourself, you smiled back at him. “Fine, one drive. But if you start doing donuts again, I’m jumping out.”

Billy chuckled, offering you a mock salute with two fingers. “No donuts, scout’s honor. Just a smooth ride and some fresh air.” With that, he led you to his car, a beautiful blue Camaro that you knew was one of the few things he truly loved. The smooth purr of the engine welcomed you as you settled into the passenger seat.

The wind was whipping against your face, trashing your hair as you leaned out of the window. The streetlights blurred by in a dizzying streak of orange and yellow, the speed at which Billy was going—highly illegal, no doubt—filling you with a sense of freedom.

An idea sparked in your mind. You pulled your head back into the car, grinning at him. “Billy,” you started, already batting your eyelashes. He sighed knowingly, having spent enough time with you to notice when you wanted something. “Can we go to the spot? Please.”

Billy’s brows shot up to his hairline as he gave you a sidelong glance. “You know I hate getting baby dirty.”

You pouted, giving him your best pleading look. “Come on, Billy, please? I haven’t been there in ages.”

Billy’s eyes softened just a fraction as he considered your request. He sighed, clearly torn between his poor car and your big, pleading eyes. “Fine,” he huffed, lifting a warning finger at you. “But you’re washing the car. And I swear, if you wear anything more than a bikini, I’m never bringing you here again.”

“Pervert,” you commented, slapping his shoulder with a grin as he took a turn onto a dirt road.

“For you? Always.”

You rolled your eyes, putting your feet on the floor of the car harder, hand going to its roof as the road became rough and uneven. The car jostled and bounced as it made its way through the muddy terrain, the tires splashing through puddles, sending up sprays of mud. After what felt like an eternity of bouncing and swerving, Billy finally brought the car to a stop at the clearing you’d both discovered a while back when the sheriff was trying to stop Billy and give him a speeding ticket. It was a secluded spot in the woods, surrounded by tall trees and overlooking a silent, moonlit lake. The view was breathtakingly beautiful, something one would perhaps find painted on canvas.

Billy shut off the engine and turned to you with a resigned but affectionate smile. “Here we are. One muddy car later.”

“I swear I’ll clean it!”

“You better,” he grumbled good-naturedly, pushing open his car door. You followed suit, hopping out of the car into the squelching softness of the mud below. You made your way to the edge of the water, where rocks were scattered about, big enough to take a seat. Pushing yourself onto one of the rocks, you let your legs dangle off the side, staring out onto the lake, its surface shimmering silvery under the moonlight.

Billy leaned against his car, the cool night air ruffling his hair. After a few moments of comfortable silence, he broke it, his voice casual. “So, how did the rest of your night go? With that guy from the rink.”

You turned your head to him, taken aback by the sudden question. His tone was nonchalant, but there was an edge to it that made you pause. “It was fine,” you replied finally, trying to keep your tone light. “Nothing special. Just, you know, the usual.”

Billy raised an eyebrow, his gaze steady on you as he played with the gum in his mouth, pushing it against his teeth with his tongue. “The usual? That’s it?”

You shrugged, not sure how to respond to his tone. Talking with Billy was different than talking to Tina about the guy, despite both of them being your friends. “I mean, it was okay, good enough, I guess.”

Billy’s jaw tightened slightly, his eyes darkening as he looked away from you. “Sounds like you had the date of the century.”

You frowned, sensing the undercurrent of his words. “Is there something you want to say, Billy?”

He looked back at you, his expression softening just a little. “Nah, I’m just curious. You turned down my offer just to go off with some random guy. Just wanted to know if it was worth it.”

You could feel the tension in the air, and for a moment, you considered your response carefully. Billy’s frustration was more than noticeable, in the way his jaw was ticking, the tension lingering in his shoulders, the glint in his eyes—you saw them, no matter how nonchalant he was trying to act. Not wanting to stoke the flames, you shrugged again. “Honestly,” you said, choosing your words carefully. “It wasn’t anything special. Just a quick thing. I didn’t think it would be a big deal.”

Billy chuckled, a sound that was more bitter than amused. “Just wasn’t expecting you to go fuck someone else right after I asked you out. Bit of a dick move if you ask me.”

You echoed the last of his words, with a roll of your eyes. “I’m not interested in just being another notch on your fucking bedpost, Billy.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not like that.”

“What is it like, then? You wanna date me? Become another Carol and Tommy?” You asked with a scoff. “Fuck no. I don’t need that.”

The air grew thicker within seconds, the quiet atmosphere of the moonlit lake doing nothing to calm the storm about to spew out of control between you. Billy’s jaw clenched as your words hung in the air, his composure slipping just enough to reveal the irritation simmering beneath the surface. “Carol and Tommy? That’s what you think this is?” he shot back, his voice rising. “You are comparing us to those idiots?”

You jumped down from the rock, the smooth, cold surface of the stone slipping under your feet as your frustration bubbled over. “What am I supposed to think, Billy? You’ve been here a little over a year and you’ve gained a worse reputation than anyone else in a lifetime! I’m not looking to be the next girl you brag about to Tommy. I don’t want to play that fucking game.”

Billy’s eyes flashed in anger as he pushed off the car, taking a step closer to you. “I’m not playing games with you, Cherry. But you’ve got this delusion in your head that you got me all figured out. Maybe if you’d just give me a chance instead of running off with every guy who flashes you a smile, you’d see that.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, his words hitting close to home. You hated how he could get under your skin like this, how he could make you feel exposed and defensive all at once. “Maybe I just don’t want to fucking give you a chance, Billy. What, you think because you got your dick sucked by half of Hawkins that you’re something special? Be fucking for real.”

His expression darkened, and for a moment, you could see the hurt behind his anger. “You’re not giving me any credit. I’m not like those other guys, and you know it. I’m not just another asshole trying to get in your pants.”

“Because that’s exactly what it feels like!” You shouted, your voice echoing across the clearing. The words came out harsher than you intended, but you were too far gone to care. “You think I don’t see the way you look at me like I’m some piece of meat? The way you act like you’ve got a claim on me just because you’ve been asking me out? Newsflash, Billy, I don’t owe you anything.”

Billy’s fists clenched at his sides, and for a moment, you thought he might snap and spur all the hateful things you had said back in tenfold. But instead, he took a deep breath, his gaze hardening. “Fine. You know what? I’m done. Let’s just get out of here.”

“Fine,” you shot back, crossing your arms as you stormed toward the car. “Take me home.”

Billy didn’t respond, just yanked open the driver’s side door and slid in, slamming it shut behind him. You followed suit, your blood still boiling as you climbed into the passenger seat, not bothering to look at him. He turned the key in the ignition, the engine roaring to life. But as he tried to pull away, the car lurched forward, only to come to a sudden stop, the tires spinning uselessly in the mud.

“Shit,” Billy muttered under his breath, trying again to no avail. The car was well and truly stuck.

“Great,” you muttered, your irritation reaching new heights. “Just great.”

Billy shot you a glare, his anger rekindling. “This is what happens when you insist on coming out here. Now we’re stuck in the middle of nowhere.”

“Oh, so this is my fault now?” you snapped, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “You didn’t have to take me here, Billy.”

“You begged me to bring you here,” he shot back, his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel. “And now look where we are.”

You glared at him, the tension between you almost suffocating. “Just get us out of here, Billy.”

“Fine,” he said through gritted teeth. “But you’re pushing.”

“What?” You stared at him in disbelief.

“You heard me,” Billy said, unbuckling his seatbelt and stepping out of the car to assess the situation. “Get your ass out of the car and push while I floor it. Maybe then we can get out of this mess.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” he shot back, his expression hard as he stood by the driver’s side door. “You wanted to come here, so now you’re gonna help get us out.”

With a groan of frustration, you pushed open your door and stepped into the mud, your shoes sinking into the muck. This night just kept getting better and better.

As you positioned yourself behind the car, your hands once again pressed firmly against the trunk, you braced yourself for another attempt. The mud squelched beneath your shoes, threatening to pull them off with every movement. You could feel the tension in your arms and shoulders, your muscles straining as you prepared to push.

"Ready?" Billy's voice called out from the driver's seat, a mix of determination and frustration lacing his words.

"Just do it," you gritted out, your focus entirely on the task at hand.

"Alright, on three. One… two… three!"

The car's engine roared to life again as Billy floored the gas, the tires spinning wildly against the thick mud. You pushed with all your might, digging your feet into the ground for leverage. For a moment, it felt like nothing was happening, like the car was still firmly stuck in place. But then, just as you were about to give up hope, the car lurched forward. But instead of the smooth movement you were hoping for, the car only moved a tiny bit—just enough to send a spray of mud flying right at you. You barely had time to react before the cold, wet muck splattered across your front, drenching your clothes and hitting your face with a disgusting splat.

"Are you kidding me?!" you shouted, your voice half-frustrated, half-incredulous as you wiped a thick layer of mud off your face. You could barely see through the sludge that clung to your eyelashes and dripped down your cheeks.

Billy cut the engine and stepped out of the car, trying his best to hide the smirk on his face but failing miserably. “Hey, Cherry,” he called out in that infuriatingly casual tone. “You’ve got a little something on your face.”

“Really?” You huffed at the teasingly malicious glint in his eyes. “I hadn’t noticed,” you shot back sarcastically, wiping another glob off your cheek with the back of your hand.

Billy just chuckled, clearly enjoying himself far too much. “You might want to clean that up. Wouldn’t want anyone to think you’re a swamp creature.”

You narrowed your eyes at him and, without saying a word, you bent down, scooped up a handful of thick, sticky mud, and hurled it straight at him. The mud splattered against his chest, leaving a satisfying smear across his shirt. Billy’s eyes widened in surprise before narrowing into a playful glare. “Oh, you’re gonna regret that, Cherry.”

Before you could react, he bent down, grabbing a handful of mud from the ground. “You think you can get away with that?”

You didn’t hesitate. “I think I just did.”

He grinned devilishly, launching the mud in your direction. You ducked, laughing as it sailed over your head and landed with a splat on the ground behind you. “Is that all you’ve got, Hargrove?”

“Oh, it’s on now,” Billy shot back, grabbing more mud.

What started as a playful throw quickly escalated into an all-out mud war. You both ducked and dodged, flinging mud at each other with reckless abandon. The more you threw, the more you both laughed, the tension from earlier melting away in the absurdity of it all.

Billy managed to land a particularly messy shot right on your shoulder, sending a wave of mud splattering everywhere. You gasped, then grabbed a double handful of mud and charged at him, hurling it with all your might. Billy laughed, trying to dodge, but you managed to hit him square in the chest again.

“Oh, you’re dead!” Billy called out, dropping all pretense of dodging as he scooped up more mud, but you were already sprinting away, laughing uncontrollably as he chased after you.

You ran around the car, barely avoiding his muddy missiles as you darted behind trees and over rocks, laughing so hard you could hardly catch your breath. Billy was right behind you, and you could hear his laughter mixing with yours, the sound echoing through the night air.

Finally, he caught up to you, grabbing you around the waist and spinning you around as you both tumbled into the dirt together, a mess of laughter and mud. You landed on your back, Billy hovering over you, both of you panting from the exertion and the hilarity of it all.

You looked up at him, seeing amusement on his face beneath the layer of dirt, and couldn’t help but burst out laughing again. “You’re such an idiot,” you managed to say between gasps for air.

Billy grinned down at you, his eyes twinkling. “Takes one to know one.”

Noticing that his guard was down, you subtly reached beside you, fingers curling around another handful of thick, cold mud. Feigning innocence, you brought your free hand up to gently wipe a stray smear from his cheek. "You missed a spot," you said softly, your voice laced with playful sweetness.

Billy's gaze softened for a split second, his lips curling into a small, genuine smile. "Oh yeah?" he replied, clearly unaware of your devious plan.

Seizing the perfect moment, you swiftly brought your other hand up, smearing the gooey mud all across his face, making sure to cover as much surface area as possible. The look of pure shock and disbelief that crossed his features was priceless, and you couldn't contain the burst of laughter that erupted from you, echoing through the quiet night. Billy blinked through the mud now dripping down his face, his mouth opening in mock offense. "Alright, that's it. You've asked for it now."

Before you could react, his strong arms wrapped firmly around your waist, pulling you tightly against him. Your laughter turned into a surprised squeal as he effortlessly pulled you along. "Billy, what are you—" your protest was cut short as he began striding purposefully towards the shimmering lake just a few yards away.

Eyes wide, you wriggled in his grasp, half-heartedly trying to break free while still giggling uncontrollably. "Don't you dare! Billy, it's freezing!" you exclaimed, though the excitement in your voice betrayed any real protest.

He looked down at you with a wicked grin, his blue eyes dancing with delight. "Should've thought about that before you decided to redecorate my face," he teased.

In a matter of seconds, you felt the soft mud give way to the cool, smooth pebbles lining the edge of the lake. The silvery surface of the water rippled gently under the moonlight, looking both beautiful and daunting in the chilly night air.

"Billy, wait!" you tried one last time, but it was no use. With a triumphant laugh, he took one final step and plunged both of you straight into the lake.

The cold water enveloped you instantly, seeping through your clothes and shocking your system with its icy touch. You gasped as you resurfaced, spluttering and pushing your now-soaked hair out of your face. The chill was intense, but the adrenaline and sheer absurdity of the situation had you laughing despite the shivers that ran down your spine.

Billy emerged beside you, shaking his head like a wet dog and sending droplets flying everywhere. His hair was plastered to his forehead, and his clothes clung to his toned frame, but the triumphant, boyish smile on his face was unmistakable.

"You're insane!" you exclaimed, splashing water at him in retaliation.

He laughed, dodging the splash with a playful glint in his eye. "Maybe, but you started it," he retorted, splashing back at you.

The two of you continued your water fight, the lake erupting with waves and laughter as you chased each other through the shallows. The cold was soon forgotten amid the fun, your earlier argument completely dissolved into the night. You tried to escape his onslaught by wading deeper into the water, but Billy was quick, closing the distance between you effortlessly. Before you knew it, he had caught you again, his arms encircling your waist as he lifted you slightly, spinning you around. The world became a blur of moonlight and water, your laughter mingling with his as the stars above glimmered down at you. Finally, breathless and exhausted, you both trudged back to the shore, collapsing onto a patch of soft, damp grass. You lay there side by side, staring up at the vast expanse of the night sky, your chests heaving as you tried to catch your breaths.

Billy turned his head to look at you, droplets clinging to his eyelashes and a soft smile playing on his lips. “You wouldn’t believe the shrinkage right now.”

You looked at him for a second, at the seriousness in his eyes, before a loud laugh tore forth from your throat, your head throwing back. Only when shivering overtook your laughter did you sit up, both of you scrambling to get back to the car, the chill of the night truly starting to creep back in.

Billy yanked open the driver’s side door and practically dove inside, immediately reaching for the ignition. The engine roared to life as he cranked up the heat, the vents blasting slowly warming air into the car’s insides. You scrambled into the passenger seat, slamming the door behind you as you huddled near the heater, soaking in the warmth, with the leather squeaking under your sopping wet behind.

You both shared a glance, a silent agreement as you both instantly began peeling off your soaked clothes, the fabric stubbornly clinging to your skin. Free from the cold fabric, you tossed it into the backseat, along with Billy’s. Sitting in the front seat in merely your underwear, Billy didn’t seem phased at all, already down to his boxers, his skin glowing faintly in the dim light of the car’s interior. Your eyes moved on their own accord, taking in the muscular physique he made no secret of hiding, while both of your arms were resting in front of your barely clothed body with uncertainty.

Billy gave you a sideways glance, a small smirk playing on his lips. “What? Shy all of a sudden?” He teased, though his tone was light.

You rolled your eyes, mustering up a defiant grin. “Not at all,” you shot back, your cradling arms falling away, giving him a full view of the lacy black bra and mismatched panties. You shivered as the cool air hit your skin, quickly moving closer to the heater.

The warmth from the vents was a welcome relief, and you both sat there for a few moments in silence, the only sounds being your heavy breathing and the whir of the car's heating system. The situation was oddly intimate, the two of you sitting in the front seats in nothing but your underwear, trying to stave off the cold together.

Billy leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes as he soaked in the warmth, his chest rising and falling steadily. You couldn't help but sneak another glance at him, your eyes tracing the contours of his muscles, the faint scars that marred his otherwise perfect skin. Despite everything that had happened tonight, there was something undeniably comforting about being here with him, sharing this quiet, private moment.

As the heat finally began to chase away the last of the cold, you both started to relax, the tension that had built up earlier now almost completely gone. Billy cracked an eye open, catching you in the act of staring at him, and he gave you a lazy grin.

"Comfortable?" he asked, his voice low and slightly teasing.

You rolled your eyes again, but this time, there was no real bite to it. "As comfortable as I can be sitting in a car, in the middle of nowhere, in my underwear."

He chuckled, leaning forward to adjust the heat, making sure it was on full blast. "Could be worse," he said, glancing over at you with a playful glint in his eye. "Could be with anyone else.”

You hummed softly, the sound filling the small space between you. "Yeah, I suppose this is a good option."

The two of you sat there for a while longer, letting the warmth seep into your bones. It was quiet, the kind of quiet that was rare in your life, and you found yourself appreciating it more than you would have expected. Eventually, you leaned back in your seat, your eyes fluttering to stare outside tiredly as the heat and exhaustion from the night's events began to lull you into a state of relaxation.

Beside you, Billy shifted slightly, his hand brushing against yours as he adjusted his position. The touch was brief, almost accidental, but it sent a spark of warmth through you that had nothing to do with the car's heater.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, the words slipped out, almost like an involuntary reflex. “Fine, one date.”

Billy’s eyes snapped open, any trace of sleepiness gone as he turned his head sharply to look at you. His brow furrowed in confusion as though he wasn’t sure he’d heard you correctly. “What?”

You turned your gaze from the window to meet his eyes, your heart pounding just a little harder in your chest. “One date,” you repeated, holding up a single finger for emphasis. “One. Don’t get any ideas.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, as if processing your words. Then, a slow grin spread across his face, lighting up his features in a way that was almost boyish, a terribly obvious contrast to the cool demeanor he usually projected. “You’re serious?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to maintain some semblance of indifference. “Yes, I’m serious. But don’t get too excited—it’s just one date.” Shrugging, you tried playing it off even though your heart was still racing. “Don’t make me change my mind, Hargrove.”

His grin widened, and there was a glint in his eyes that told you he wasn’t about to let this opportunity slip away. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, his voice tinged with a mix of excitement and challenge.

You could feel the shift in the air, the playful banter from earlier replaced by something more charged, more real. There was no backing out now—not that you wanted to, not really. Deep down, part of you was curious about what a date with Billy would be like, what it would mean for the two of you.

But you weren’t about to let him know that.

“One date,” you repeated firmly, giving him a pointed look. “And you better make it good, because that’s all you’re getting.”

Billy’s gaze locked onto yours, his expression serious despite the playful tone of the conversation. “Trust me,” he said, his voice soft but sure. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

You let out a huff, crossing your arms over your chest as you leaned back in your seat. “We’ll see about that.”

Billy chuckled again, but this time, there was a softness to it, a warmth that made you feel like maybe—just maybe—you weren’t making a huge mistake.

For now, you’d let yourself see where this could lead. Just one date. Nothing more, nothing less.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

You were on your knees, scrubbing away at the stubborn dirt caked on Billy’s car, your muscles starting to protest from the effort. A hose lay coiled at your side, ready for the next round of rinsing. Sweat was gathering on your forehead, making you wipe at it every once in a while with damp hands. It was a terribly hot day, the sun beating down on you, making you regret agreeing to wash Billy’s car. Every now and then, your eyes flitted to Tina and Carol lounging comfortably in lawn chairs a few feet away, lazily sipping on lemonades and gossiping about the latest drama in Hawkins.

Carol tilted her sunglasses down, watching you with a teasing smirk. “You missed a spot, Cherry.”

You shot her a look, turning your attention back to the sponge in your hand, tempted to hurl it at them both. Instead of doing what had been on your mind, you pressed the sponge back to the blue surface, scrubbing even harder at a particularly stubborn patch of mud. Taking the hose, you rinsed the foam away, water spraying across the car’s side, splashing back onto you, soaking through your shirt. You sighed, knowing you had at least another hour of this.

Tina leaned over, lowering her voice conspiratorially, “Did you hear about Becky and Steve? Total disaster. She caught him flirting with Nancy Wheeler at the party. Can you believe it?”

“As if!” Carol rolled her eyes, “I told you Steve was a player. Becky should’ve known better.”

You finished with the hood, stood up, and stretched, feeling the ache in your back. The half-cleaned car gleamed under the sun, but there was still so much left to do. You grabbed the hose and rinsed off the suds, watching as the water ran off in murky rivulets, carrying away the grime. Finally, you plopped down on the grass between Tina and Carol, leaning back onto your elbows. Wordlessly, Tina handed you her glass of lemonade and you took a grateful sip, the cold, sour liquid refreshing as it slid down your throat.

Carol narrowed her eyes at you, a grimace on her face. “So, why are you washing Billy’s car anyway?” she asked, suspicion lacing her tone.

You shrugged nonchalantly, handing the lemonade back to Tina. “Lost a bet,” you lied, keeping your expression neutral.

Carol raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it but interested nonetheless. “Uh-huh. What kind of bet?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to keep your expression neutral. “Does it matter?” A bet’s a bet.”

Carol gave you a skeptical look, but she didn’t press further. Instead, she leaned back in her chair, turning the conversation back to Becky and Steve, her voice dripping with malice as she recalled all the wrongs Steve had ever done. A year back, when Tommy and Carol had been on one of their breaks, Carol had hit on Steve—he had been a vital part of your group of friends back then—only to be shot down. Ever since then, Steve had distanced himself, distancing himself from Carol’s snarky comments and spiteful looks. You had found out about the situation only after Carol had gotten drunk at a party and spilled the beans to you, crying that she was unlovable.

Before you could get back up to finish cleaning the car, Tina cut in with a sly grin, “Oh, C, did I tell you? Billy asked Cherry out again.” Your head snapped in the direction of your brunette friend, a warning glare in your eyes, knowing you had made her swear above and beyond not to mention it to Carol.

Carol let out a dramatic sigh, rolling her eyes. “Well, it’s getting pathetic by now. The guy just doesn’t know when to quit.” She wrapped her sparkly lips around the baby blue straw, taking a few sips of the lemonade, looking to you for confirmation.

Before you could reply, Tina leaned forward further, grin widening. “Cherry said yes!”

Carol choked on her lemonade, eyes widening with surprise. She couched, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, staring at you in disbelief. She screeched your real name, the one nobody but your mother used. “You can’t be serious!”

Picking at the grass beside you, you shrugged, pursing your lips—not without giving Tina the stink eye she deserved—trying to play it off. “It’s just one date, Care. Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

Carol continued to gape at you, clearly flabbergasted by the revelation. “But—it’s Billy! What changed?” She narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “Is he black-mailing you?”

“Carol,” you scoffed warningly.

She wasn’t letting it go, though, leaning forward, her expression intense. “I just don’t get it. You’ve shot him down, like, a million times. Why now?” She didn’t even give you the chance to answer, huffing instead and leaning back in her chair. “I just hope you know what you’re doing. Billy’s not exactly boyfriend material.”

You shot her a sharp look, your patience wearing thin. “You’re one to talk. Remind me again how many times I held you while you cried because Tommy’s tongue was down someone else’s throat?”

Carol’s face flushed, her eyes narrowing. “That’s different, and you know it!”

“Is it?” You countered, not backing down.

Carol stood up abruptly, her face still tinged with annoyance. She grabbed her purse, smoothing her skirt as she huffed, “I have to get home for lunch.” She hesitated for a moment, then added with a pointed glare, “But don’t come crying to me when he hurts you.”

You rolled your eyes, the annoyance bubbling up inside you as her words grated on your nerves. Carol always acted like she had it all figured out, but you’d seen her cry over Tommy more times than you could count. You weren’t about to let her get away with that kind of condescension.

Sharply, you shot back, “I don’t cry over boys, Carol. Boys are just placeholders—they come and they go, and they for sure aren’t worth my tears.”

Carol’s eyes widened in surprise at your retort, her lips pressing into a thin line. She didn’t have a comeback for that, and after a tense moment, she just shook her head and turned on her heel, walking away without another word. You watched her go, your irritation still simmering, but there was also a sense of satisfaction. You weren’t going to let anyone, not even a friend, belittle your decisions or act like they knew what was best for you. You were in control of your own life, and you’d handle things your way.

As the sound of her footsteps faded, Tina broke the silence, her voice hesitant. “That was really mean, Cherry.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair as you tried to shake off the lingering frustration. “She just doesn’t get it. I’m not looking for some epic romance or whatever. I’m just… seeing where things go. And if Billy screws up, that’s on him. I’ll move on.”

“If you say so.”

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

You were fuming as you stepped back into your house, frustration bubbling up inside you. You had spent the entire evening waiting for Billy, all dressed up and ready for the surprise date he had been teasing you about all week. You’d gone all out in a tight black dress that complemented your hair, your makeup perfect. You had actually felt somewhat excited, seeing where Billy would take you, since he had spent all week teasing you, saying he had everything planned down to perfection. But as the minutes ticked by and Billy failed to show up, your excitement quickly turned to anger. An hour had passed, then another, and still no sign of him. You tried calling him, but he didn’t answer, nobody answered. Your patience wore thin, and you felt a mix of humiliation and rage bubbling up. By the time you decided to head back inside, you were seething.

On Monday morning, you were over it—or, at least, you told yourself you were. When you saw him approaching you in the school hallway, you ignored him completely, walking away so briskly that your boots clicked sharply against the floor.

“Hey, Cherry!” Billy called out, catching up with you. His voice was casual, but you could tell he was… flustered?  “I was trying to reach you—”

“Yeah, well, I was busy,” you hummed, your tone frosty as you raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “I have better things to do than wait around for men.” Billy stopped in his tracks, his face falling. You noticed the bruise on his left eye and your anger flared even more. The sight of it made you think, that instead of picking you up, he had been out drinking and gotten himself into another fight.

“Cherry, listen—” Billy began, but you cut him off again.

“Save it,” you said bluntly, your eyes flashing with irritation. “I don’t need excuses. You clearly had something better to do and, frankly, I’m not interested in your drama.”

Billy’s jaw tightened. He took a deep breath, trying to control his rising anger at your dismissal. “Look, Cherry, I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“I’m done with this,” you said firmly, turning away from him. “See you in class.”

You stormed into the locker room, fuming as you kicked off your boots and headed for your locker. The events of the morning had you well and truly seething, not caring about the looks you were getting as you fumbled with your locker, trying to get the cheerleading uniform out. You hastily pulled the green and white uniform on, white sneakers in your hand, when suddenly the locker room door swung open, followed by an enthusiastic squeal. “Guys, you won’t believe it!” A girl from the squad burst, her gray eyes wide with excitement—Jenna, a sophomore who had been accepted into the team at the beginning of the year—bounced with every step she took. “Billy Hargrove just asked me out!”

You looked up, your anger momentarily forgotten as your eyes narrowed in disbelief. Jenna continued, the rest of the girls having gathered to hear the story of how it had happened, none noticing the effect her words were having on you.

“He was like all charming and stuff. I thought it was so sweet—”

“Sweet?” You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “Billy Hargrove isn’t sweet, so if you don’t want him to cut your date short, I’d buy a box of condoms if I were you.”

The room fell silent as the rest of the squad around you gaped at the blunt comment. Jenna’s excitement faltered slightly, her eyes wide as she stared at you, taken aback. “What do you mean?”

You let out a heavy sigh, shrugging as if it were no big deal. “Oh, come on, don’t act like you don’t know what they are saying about him. He’s not the guy to show up with flowers and love letters. He’s going to take what he wants and then disappear before you even realize what happened and he won’t give you the time of day again.” Your tone softened. “Be smarter than that, Jenna.”

A few of the girls exchanged uneasy glances, while Jenna’s face merely continued to fall further. She looked crestfallen as she nodded slowly. “Thanks for the heads-up, Cherry.”

You managed a tight-lipped smile and turned back to your locker, feeling a pang of guilt for being so harsh. It wasn’t Jenna’s fault she was excited; it was just frustrating to see Billy’s charming façade still working its magic on everyone. The conversation shifted back to other topics as the cheerleaders began to prepare for practice, but the tension from your comment lingered in the air.

You were going to be smarter than that, too.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

You had managed to steer clear of Billy Hargrove for over a month, keeping your distance and focusing on literally anything else. Though ignoring him, also meant ignoring plans your friends made, which, more often than not, included Billy, too. Even though the tension from your last encounter with him had slowly faded, being near him felt awkward—at least that’s what Tina said it felt like when she had been sitting alone with both of you at your usual booth at the roller rink. The buzz of Fourth of July was quickly approaching, and with it, Nicole’s annual party that weeks before and weeks after would be the talk of the town. Each year, her parents would leave town to visit her grandparents, leaving Nicole with the house all to herself—and dozens of drunken teenagers to make a mess of it. The invitation had been passed out everywhere—school, the mall, the arcade, even on the street to strangers that Nicole thought looked cute.

On the day itself, you found yourself standing in front of Nicole’s house, dressed in a backless blue denim jumpsuit, the zipper in the front just enough undone to reveal the beginnings of a red bra beneath—with two white stars painted on the back pockets of the jumper. Tina and Carol had insisted on a festive theme, both of their cheeks smeared with red, white, and blue stripes that you had oh so gratefully refused.

The night air was warm and filled with the sounds of drunken laughter and loud music as you walked up to the house, trailing your friends. Red, white, and blue streamers adorned the front porch, a large banner hanging above the entrance, declaring ‘Stars, Stripes, and Sips—Let’s Get Lit!’. You shook your head at the hand-painted banner and walked past it into the already bustling house. Some of the people you recognized, while others you weren’t even sure were citizens of Hawkins.

Tina, enthusiasm quite literally painted on her face, immediately took hold of both your and Carol’s hands, pulling you into the kitchen of the familiar house. “Come on, ladies!” Tina urged, her eyes gleaming with excitement—and mischief. “I starved myself all day, so this would be worth it!” She said, grabbing a tray of shot glasses and starting to dole out tequila with shaking hands. Ignoring the spilled substance, she handed each of you a shot, taking the saltshaker and a lime for herself. She urged both of you to lick your hand before eagerly salting the spot, telling you to take a lime already. Tina lifted her shot, toasting to freedom, fireworks and something you didn’t understand because a loud cheer had gone through the crowd. Without waiting, she licked the salt away, tipping her head back with the shot, swallowing and quickly taking a bite of her lime. Her face twisted with disgust and the sour tinge of citrus—though she wasn’t affected by it long, already beginning to pour herself a second glass.

You licked, swallowed, and bit, squinting your eyes shut to keep from gagging at the taste. A burning warmth worked through your esophagus, traveling to your stomach. You immediately regretted spending the whole day in the company of Tina, with her not stopping to eat for just a second, you hadn’t done so either. Although you perhaps shouldn’t have, you accepted the second shot she had poured without complaint, downing it together with Carol and Tina—solidarity and all that.

Straying from tequila, you mixed some sweet drink for yourself in one of the blue plastic cups, refusing Tina when she told you to add another few ounces of alcohol. Carol told you she would see if Tommy had gotten here yet—they had reconciled for the time being—and vanished in the crowd. An excited screech left Tina’s lips as she hammered the palms of her hands lightly against your bare arm, pointing toward the group that was gathering on the couches to play stupid little games.

“Please?” She pouted, already beginning to pull you along.

You scrunched up your nose and shook your head with an apologetic smile, suggesting that you’d watch instead. She was content enough with it not to argue further, jumping over the back of the sofa and plopping between a few people from the senior class. You stood behind her, sipping your drink, slightly propping yourself against the couch as a girl started explaining the rules. Not bothering to listen, since you weren’t going to participate anyway, you took to looking around the decorations Nicole had put up. She always went all out, even though nobody really cared if there were balloons and confetti as long as there was beer and music.

“Never have I ever done the dirty with Billy Hargrove,” some girl giggled—that had you snapping your head back to the group. The blonde smirked as she raised her own glass on took a sip, clearly not giving a damn about the sense of the game. Almost all the other girls, excluding Tina—thank God—immediately took a sip from their drinks, giggling and exchanging knowing looks as they began to gossip about their experiences. You rolled your eyes and grimaced, patting Tina on the shoulder to let her know you were leaving the scene, heading toward the dancing crowd.

You spotted the cheer squad in the thick of it, moving in sync with the beat and enjoying themselves with some half-assed choreography they were making up on the spot. They chuckled as someone suggested another dance move, copying it, swaying all drunk and silly. You slipped through the crowd to join them, being greeted by an excited chorus of your name and messy hugs. Swaying and dancing until sweat was warming the nape of your neck, you let the bass and the flashing lights wash away the annoyance of the evening.

Lost in the music, you barely noticed some guy sidling up, until some of the girls gave excited noises and a hand wrapped around your waist. “Hey, there,” he said, his voice smooth and flirtatious. He had a confident swagger, a smile that seemed far too eager. “Mind if I cut in?”

You looked him up and down, unimpressed. He wasn’t really your type—lacking the edge and cutting charm that usually attracted you. But as you glanced over his shoulder, you caught sight of Billy Hargrove standing by the wall, his eyes fixed on you and the guy. For reasons beyond you, your heart hopped at the thought of him having watched you, having eyes for merely you in a crowd of people far more eager to go along with whatever he wanted. The look on his face was unreadable, stony almost, though you thought you might have spotted a hint of annoyance within.

Before you knew what you were doing, you turned back to the male before you and smiled, a sly, sultry smile that always got you what you wanted. “Sure, why not?” You said, pulling him along and turning him around. Barely interested, you pressed your back against his front, lifting an arm to wrap around his neck while his wrapped around your front. You swayed to the music, ignoring the compliments and whatnot being whispered against your ear, your eyes once in a while flitting to Billy, making certain he was still watching.

The longer you danced, the more tightly the guy held you, the more you could spot Billy’s fist clenching firmly, the furrow in his brow deepening. The more you engaged with the guy, the more Billy seemed to fume—so terribly, you could feel the heat of his stare even from the distance. Billy’s blue orbs found yours as you leaned your head against the guy’s shoulder, Billy’s demeanor shifting. There was a tick in his jaw as he squeezed the life out of the plastic cup in his hands, shooting glares toward you. Deciding to push it further, you stretched your neck, pushing a little at the back of the guy’s head, who got the clue immediately. You grinned knowingly, eyes falling shut only after seeing Billy with his jaw set tight, your red-painted lips falling open in a satisfied moan. Before you could fully immerse yourself in the show, you felt a firm grip on your arm.

You turned to find Billy’s face inches from yours, his expression a mix of anger and something darker. His eyes were stormy, the tension radiating from his so thick, you could have cut it with a knife. Without waiting for a response, he roughly tugged you through the crowd, ignoring the curious stares and murmurs from partygoers. Despite your protests, he didn’t slow down, his grip on your arm unrelenting as he guided you toward the back of the house. The fresh night air hit you, sharp and clear after the stifling heat of the party.

His strides were purposeful, seething with frustration. He dragged you along by your upper arm, away from prying eyes and ears of the party. As you reached a secluded wall, he spun you around, shoving you firmly against it. The suddenness of it made you gasp, your back hitting the wall with a jarring thud.

Billy’s eyes were fierce, the glint of anger and something deeper reflecting in them, taking your breath away at the intensity. His face was so close to yours you could feel his hot breath on your skin, his eyes boring into yours with a ferocity that was making you shift. “You think that shit is funny?” he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. “Damn it, Cherry, answer me,” he growled, his hand slamming into the rough wall beside your head, making you jump.

You could barely breathe, the pressure of his gaze squeezing the air from your lungs. With a shaky exhale, tongue heavy, you whispered, “Yes.”

Billy’s eyes burned with a combination of frustration and something else—an emotion that was hard to pin down. He kept you pinned against the wall, his face dangerously close to yours, his breath mingling with yours. The night air felt charged, every breath between you feeling electric.

“So, you think it’s funny?” Billy’s voice was raw, barely controlled, his anger spilling over. “Grinding against some guy like a bitch in heat?” He spat out the words, his tone dripping with disdain. “You wanted to make me mad? Make sure I saw you with someone else?”

You scoffed then, composing yourself, trying to mask your own rising emotions behind a veil of nonchalance. You met his gaze with a defiant look, standing your ground. “Don’t be sour just because someone’s beating you at your own game,” you shot back. “All the games you play, I can play all of them too. Easily.”

He shoved you back against the wall, his anger simmering just beneath the surface but his voice turning colder, more calculated. “Oh, Cherry Baby, I don’t play games like that. If you wanted to make a statement, you’ve done it. But don’t think for a second that I’m just going to roll over and take it.” He leaned in even closer, his lips almost brushing against your ear. “And if you want to keep playing, just remember this: I don’t play fair, and I sure as hell don’t lose.” Billy’s gaze remained locked on yours, the intensity in his eyes unwavering. His anger seemed to morph into something else, something raw, primal. Without warning, he gripped the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair roughly. You gasped in surprise, opening your lips just slightly as he surged forward, pressing his lips against yours in a deep, fervent kiss.

It was rough and demanding, all anger and frustration, causing your heart to thud heavily in your chest as a surge of desire shot through you. He tightened his grip on your hair, digging his other one in the flesh of your ass, pulling you against him, making you feel exactly what you were doing to him. You moaned, clawing your hands in the fabric of his silky dress shirt, a tingling sensation spreading through your core. Breathing seemed so much less important as his hand came forward, ripping the zipper of your jumpsuit down as far as it would go. You gasped against his lips, his fingers harshly squeezing the skin of your breast through the lazy red fabric. He brought his thumb up to the hardened buds, greedily pinching them between his fingers, enjoying the sounds tumbling from your lips in reply.

“You wanted to make me jealous, didn’t you?” He cooed as his fingers slipped down further, stretching the material of the jumpsuit as they found their way into your underwear. “Well, congratulations, Cherry Baby, you got my attention.” All breath fled your lungs as his fingers toyed with your clit, all thought of anyone seeing you shoved to the back of your mind. You writhed underneath him, hips helplessly bucking forward for more. Billy laughed, bastard that he was, attentively rolling your sensitive nub under his thumb. You gripped the arm that was holding your head by your hair, keeping you from moving too much, your head lolling back in pleasure.

“That feel good, hm, Cherry? Better than those little boys who don’t know how to handle you.” Despite the tight bite you had on your lip, a sound of agreement tore from your throat before you could stop it. “Could’a had this all along if you weren’t so damn stubborn.” You whined, desperately rolling your hips when he slowly sunk two of his fingers into your cunt. Billy’s gaze was glued to your face, the glossiness in your eyes, the dip in your mouth as it dropped open to spill the sounds you had been fighting to keep quiet but couldn’t hold back anymore. He curled his fingers, working himself deeper, and deeper, rubbing that spongy spot inside of you that had your stomach twitching. Out of reflex, your body tried pulling back further, trying to get away from the pleasure Billy was giving you, only with his hand and the wall caging you, there was no space for you to go. Instead, you dug your nails into his skin, yelping, as he started thrusting his fingers in and out of you, always sure to keep brushing up against that spot that he had found far too easily.

“Look at you, Cherry,” he cooed, biting your lip and pulling with a sly grin, licking the throbbing spot. “Never seen you so obedient.” Billy noted the way you melted into him, the way your body responded to his touch. He could feel the heat radiating from you, and it only fueled his ego. Just as you were about to lose yourself in the moment, tightening around him and gripping him for dear life, Billy abruptly pulled back, a low chuckle rumbling from his chest, your sound of protest instantly following.

His breath was hot against your lips as he leaned in close, a teasing smirk curling at the corners of his mouth, when your eyes snapped open at the orgasm that had been so rudely ripped from you. “Enjoying yourself, huh?” he taunted, his voice dripping with cocky arrogance. He let the question hang in the air for a moment, watching bliss and confusion flicker in your eyes. You could still feel the lingering ghost of his touch, his fingers as your mind raced to process the sudden shift in his demeanor. Before you could say anything, he straightened up, his hand slipping from your hair as he took a step back. “If you want more,” he said, his voice laced with challenge, “you’re gonna have to work for it, Cherry Baby.”

His eyes glinted with mischief, his smirk widening as he took in the sight of you, breathless and wanting. Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel, leaving you standing there against the wall, your hair a mess and clothes disheveled. As he walked away, you could still hear the echo of his laughter, leaving you with a mix of frustration and something you weren’t ready to admit yet—desire.

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Ever since you had first noticed that boys were showing an interest in you, you had made it your rule to never chase a man. It wasn’t just a rule—it was a principle. A game you didn’t play but had created, one in which you were pulling all the strings. You’d learned early on that the power lay in making them come to you, in letting them believe they were the hunters when, in reality, you were always the one in control.

Boys were easy. Flash a smile, give them just enough attention, and they’d follow you like lost puppies. It was a thrill, knowing you had them wrapped around your finger, knowing you could pull them in and push them away whenever you wanted. You’d seen too many girls let themselves get caught up, lose their sense of self in the pursuit of some boy who didn’t deserve them—Carol, for one. That was never going to be you.

But Billy Hargrove was different. He didn’t just follow the rules of the game—he rewrote them. He was infuriating, cocky, and dangerous, with a way of getting under your skin like no one else ever had. He challenged you, pushed back when others would have crumbled, and for the first time, you found yourself second-guessing your moves. The thing was, you knew Billy had his own game too, that he wasn’t like the others. He didn’t just want your attention—he wanted to see if he could make you break your own rules. And that was something you couldn’t let happen. The moment you chased him, the moment you let him think he had the upper hand, it would all be over.

So, you did what you did best. You pulled back, kept your distance, tried making him come to you. You’d seen the frustration in his eyes, the way he couldn’t quite hide his irritation when you strutted out past him in the hallways of the school without sparing him a glance, and when you, despite sitting beside him in the booth at the roller rink, refused to even allow your thighs to touch. It was satisfying, knowing you still had the power, knowing he was the one being drawn in now.

But as much as you hated to admit it, there was a part of you that couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss, his touch, about the way his lips had claimed yours with a fierceness that left you breathless. It had been a mistake to let him get that close, but fuck, it had felt good.

It had been going on for a few weeks by then, the cat and mouse thing happening between you and Billy—who was who had yet to be determined. If Tina or Carol noticed a shift in the air (they definitely did, because you and Billy had gone from close friends to not talking to friends again) they didn’t dare mention it. You had gone back to regularly joining in on group activities again, no need to hide away from Billy when now you had made it your mission to tempt him—to get him to finish what had been started.

It was a late afternoon, the summer sun just beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the town. Carol and Tommy had broken up again, causing her to call an emergency meeting at Benny’s Burgers with you and Tina. As usual, the diner was busy, filled with the hum of conversations and the steady clattering of dishes. You were sitting in a booth near the back, casually sipping on a chocolate milkshake, fingers busying themselves by flicking through a magazine. You were trying to entertain yourself as Carol went on and on about what had occurred to make her break up with Tommy for the umpteenth time, while Tina, pretending to listen, was attempting to eye-fuck the new waiter.

Eyeing the clothing articles that Harper’s Bazaar deemed to be the fashion statements of the summer, you felt a sudden shift in the air, even before looking up. Perhaps it was the way Carol slowed her yapping, her orbs flicking between you and the door, or perhaps it was merely in the way a tingling sense enveloped your back that let you know that something particular—or someone—had entered. When you glanced toward the door, your heart sank a little.

Billy had just walked in—and he wasn’t alone. He had some girl hanging from his arm, one you didn’t recognize but who looked all too pleased to be there with him. She was laughing at something he said, her hand resting on his chest as Billy began to order for them, the sight of it making your stomach twist uncomfortably. You stilled in your seat at the realization—what the fuck. Frowning, you forced your eyes back down to the magazine, pretending to be engrossed in the article about what might possibly be in trend for the coming fall, but you weren’t really reading the words, instead, an echo of confusion danced through your ear. You weren’t the kind of girl to care about what men did to entertain themselves, and you for sure weren’t the kind of girl to feel anything when seeing a man with another girl. No, you were the girl to shrug and find the next toy to busy yourself with. This wasn’t normal. He was merely a pawn in your game, a challenge—a fleeting amusement, nothing more. So why the fuck did the sight of him with another girl feel like you got punched in the gut?

You flicked through the pages of the magazine with more force than necessary, trying to push the irritation out of your mind. But the laughter from their booth kept pulling you back, each giggle like a tiny needle pricking at your carefully maintained indifference. You clenched your jaw, determined not to let this get to you. If Billy wanted to parade some girl around to get a reaction out of you, fine. You weren’t going to give him the satisfaction. You were better than that.

Still, you couldn’t resist a glance in their direction, just to see. The girl was hanging on his every word, her expression adoring and Billy was soaking it up, a smug smile playing on his lips. He was putting on a show, and you hated that it was beginning to work—you glared back at the magazine.

Tina, noticing the shift in your mood, nudged your foot under the table. “Cherry, are you even listening?”

You looked up, blinking. “Sorry, what?”

Carol’s eyes narrowed at you before she raised a brow and folded her arms in front of her chest. “What’s up with you? You’ve been staring at that magazine like it insulted your mother.”

Keeping your expression nonchalant, you pursed your lips and gave her a once-over that you knew would make her feel some type of way. “Literally just waiting for you to talk about anything else than the mess you call a relationship, Care. It’s making me want to bash my head in.”

You kept your gaze steady on the ginger—a color she had only attained after you had dyed your hair for the first time—watching as her expression darkened. “God, Cherry,” she hissed, her voice low and venomous. “You’ve been acting like such a bitch lately, you know, even more so than usual. What the hell is your problem?”

The retort was already on the tip of your tongue, sharp and cutting, ready to slice through whatever delusions Carol had created in her mind. But before you could say anything, Tina interjected, her voice loud and cheerful—far too cheerful.

“There’s a baseball game coming up this weekend, I was thinking we should go! Support Billy and Tommy—and Steve. Everyone is going.”

“Sure,” Carol rolled her eyes but didn’t say anything else, her lips pressed into a thin line as she turned her attention back to the menu. You forced yourself to relax, to let the tension in your shoulders ease as you leaned back in your seat, acting as if the exchange had barely registered. Pushing up from the table with a sigh, your irritation shimmered just beneath the surface. “I’m going to the bathroom,” you muttered, not really caring if Tina or Carol heard you. You needed a moment away from the bickering—and away from Billy and his new arm candy.

As you walked across the diner, the new waiter caught your eye, giving you an awkward wave and a hopeful smile. You didn’t bother acknowledging him with anything more than a roll of your eyes, the heels clicking purposefully against the linoleum as you strolled past the counter—past the dumfounded waiter—and into the hallway where the bathrooms were located. Men, you thought with disdain, the thought punctuated by a shake of your head.

Shutting the door behind you, you leaned over the sink, turning the cold water on and wetting your hands. You brought them up to your neck, the coolness soothing the warmth that had crept up your skin. You stared at your reflection, noting the slight smudge of eyeliner beneath one eye. You grabbed a tissue and carefully wiped it away, then reached into your bag for your lipstick, reapplying it with a steady hand.

As you sprayed a bit of perfume onto your neck, the scent wafting around you, you considered the girl Billy had walked in with. She was pretty, in a generic sort of way—blonde, bubbly, and probably all too eager to please him. If that’s what Billy wanted, if he wanted someone who would hang on his every word and laugh at all his jokes, then he could have her—should, in fact. You let out a small huff, shaking out your hair as if to rid yourself of the thought.

As you stepped out of the bathroom, Billy was there, his tall frame casting a shadow over you. He had that familiar cocky smirk on his face, the one that usually made every girl in Hawkins weak in the knees. Without missing a beat, he ducked in, going straight for a kiss, his hand already at your waist, trying to shove you back into the bathroom like it was a done deal.

Your hand shot up, slapping over his mouth, shoving him aside with a strength that caught him off guard. "Go do that with your bimbo," you sneered with a disgusted scoff, pushing past him.

As you strutted down the hallway, you heard Billy chuckle behind you, low and taunting. He drawled, his voice dripping with that infuriating arrogance, "You’ll come around. They always do." You didn’t bother to slow down or turn around. Instead, you simply lifted your hand, throwing him the finger without even looking back.

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The taste of the guy’s lips had felt wrong from the start. His mouth was too soft, too eager, like he was trying to prove something with every clumsy kiss. You barely felt anything but the wrongness of it all, your mind somewhere else—somewhere it definitely shouldn’t be, but had been continuously venturing to, nonetheless. Billy’s face kept flashing in your thoughts, his arrogant smile, the way his eyes darkened when he was pissed off or amused, how he always seemed to know exactly what buttons to press to get under your skin.

You groaned inwardly, your fingers tightening on the guy’s shoulders as he moved his lips along your neck, his hands wandering aimlessly. It was no use. His touch felt like nothing but static, a pale imitation of what you really wanted—craved—to feel. With each second that passed, the irritation building inside you grew stronger, Billy’s image refusing to fade.

The guy pulled back, probably expecting you to look pleased or at least interested—instead, you shoved him off, cutting off whatever lame attempt at a compliment he was about to offer. His expression twisted into one of confusion, maybe even a bit of hurt, but you didn’t care enough to apologize. You didn’t even bother remembering his name, so what was the point?

“Uh, everything okay?” he asked, awkwardly wiping his mouth as if he’d done something wrong.

“Yeah, fine,” you muttered, not even sparing him a second glance as you picked up your purse, brushing some stray grass and dirt from the artificial leather. “Just… not in the mood anymore.” It was a lie, of course. You were in the mood—just not with him. You left him there, standing under the bleachers, probably (definitely) wondering what the hell had just happened. You weaved through the crowd, shoving past people already settled in their spots, ignoring their annoyed mutters and irritated glares. Every step you took seemingly only made you angrier, the frustration bubbling up inside you like a boiling pot about to overflow.

When you finally reached Tina and Carol, they were still lost in their conversation, drinks in hand, barely noticing your return. You dropped down beside Tina with a huff, pushing your sunglasses back onto your nose and crossing your arms, glaring out at the field without really seeing anything.

Carol glanced at you, sensing the tension radiating off you like a storm about to break. “You okay?” She asked, her voice laced with genuine concern, which only made you feel worse.

“Fine,” you snapped, harsher than you had intended. Then, softer, “just…annoyed.” Annoyed wasn’t even half of it. You were furious, not just at Billy but at yourself. Furious because no matter how much you tried to push him out of your mind, he was always there, lurking like a shadow you couldn’t escape—like a pesky little roach you couldn’t get rid of. And it wasn’t like you cared about what he did, who he was with, or what kind of games he played. You didn’t care. You couldn’t care. 

Huffing once more, you furrowed your brows at the lively baseball field below you. Billy and Steve, both visibly sweaty and visibly competitive were shouting downright hostile at each other—it was perhaps more entertaining than the actual game. Every throw, every strike, every aggressive look they exchanged spoke volumes about their mutual dislike for one another. You could almost smell the hatred wafting through the air, stronger than it was when they would encounter each other in the hallways, for sure.

It hit you then, so forcefully you ripped the glasses from your face, startling Tina so much so that she yelped. Checkmate.

“Jeez!” She exclaimed, frown appearing on her face as she used the straw to swirl around the blue slushie in her cup. “What is up with you today?”

“You know what, Tee? I’m suddenly feeling so much better,” you grinned, checking the watch on Tina’s wrist to get an idea of how much longer the team would be playing. Hurriedly, you shouldered your purse, glossy and red, just how you liked it. “I have business to attend to, see you later,” you winked and pushed back through the crowd, not giving your friends a chance to question your hasty escape. When the final whistle blew and the game came to an end, you had already positioned yourself in the hallway in front of the guys’ locker room. Your hair was fixed, lipstick applied perfectly, a spritz of perfume here and there—you were ready.

When Steve Harrington finally emerged, freshly showered and looking relaxed in his casual—preppy—attire, his confusion at seeing you there was immediate. You caught his eye, flashing him a sly grin. “Steve.”

“Hey, Red, long time no see,” Steve said, nodding to you in greeting, his tone friendly but not missing the cadence of curiosity.

“Yeah…” You leaned against the wall nonchalantly, giving him a little shrug. “Carol was bitter and threatened us not to talk to you.”

Steve’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Since when do you listen to Carol of all people?”

You bit your lip playfully, letting a glint of mischief dance in your eyes as you shrugged again. “Well, I’m here, talking to you, so…” You grinned.

Steve’s expression shifted from confusion to intrigue. He looked you up and down with a raised eyebrow, clearly uncertain about your sudden interest. “So, what’s the deal then? Anything specific bringing you here?”

You pushed off the wall, stepping closer to him with a confident, seductive sway in your walk. “Saw you play and thought we could catch up. Maybe over milkshakes and fries?”

Steve’s eyebrows shot up, clearly taken aback by your direct offer. He gaped at you for a moment, a mix of surprise and disbelief playing across his face. “R-right now?” he stammered, clearly caught off guard.

You gave him a playful but insistent smile, leaning in a bit closer. “Yeah, why not?” Tongue peeking out to lick your grinning lips, it lingered between your teeth for a second. “I’m in the mood for something different, and I thought you might be up for it.”

Steve shook his head slightly as if trying to clear the haze from his mind. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to play it cool despite his evident intrigue. “Well, this is…out of the blue, I gotta admit. I wasn’t expecting, uh—”

“So, you’re saying no?” You blinked at him, pulling your brows up in a pout—God, guys.

“Yes!” Shot out at the look you were giving him, until his mind seemed to catch up with what he had been asked. “I mean no! No, I’m not saying no! I mean—I would love to.”

You chuckled, twirling a strand of your hair around your fingers. “You’re so cute sometimes, you know that?”

Steve’s smile gradually widened, his shock fading into a more relaxed, captivated grin. “You know what? Suddenly I’m starved for milkshakes and fries. Lead the way.”

With that, you reached out and took Steve’s hand in yours. His grip was warm and firm and just in time. Right as you were beginning to move away from the locker room door, a familiar figure emerged. You turned slightly and saw Billy Hargrove exiting, his gaze immediately locked onto you and Steve. His eyes narrowed as he saw the way your fingers were intertwined with Steve’s, seeming momentarily stunned, his usual confident stride faltering just a bit. Not ceasing your walking, you couldn’t resist but wink at Billy with a sly smile, letting your gaze linger just a second too long before you turned back to Steve and giggled.

There was no need for you to turn around to know Billy’s expression had shifted from surprise to annoyance, a tight clench in his jaw as he watched you and Steve walk away. There was fury and confusion battling behind his eyes, but you didn’t give him the satisfaction of any further acknowledgment. Instead, you pulled Steve closer, allowing him to lead you to his car, with confident, deliberate strides. “Let’s get out of here,” you said, your tone light and carefree.

“Let’s,” he agreed, the corners of his mouth upturned happily.

You gave him a cheeky smile as you slid into the passenger seat. As Steve drove off, you glanced back one last time, finding Billy standing in the parking lot, a cigarette burning between his lips, illuminating the furious gaze through the rearview mirror. You couldn’t help but smirk as you sank into the seat with satisfaction in your veins. The engine humming beneath you, your mind wandered. The night was still young, there was no point in letting it go to waste. You thought back to the usual spot where the team gathered after a big win—at least from what Tina had told you—a place everyone knew well. It was the new diner near the roller rink. Well, new by Hawkins’ standards, even if it had been around for a decade.

You glanced at Steve, your fingers tapping idly on the dashboard. “Hey, Steve, would you mind heading to Bop ‘n’ Burger instead of Benny’s? I’ve been craving their fries.”

Steve shot you a curious look, his brow furrowing slightly. “You know the whole team’s probably gonna be there, right?”

You shrugged casually, not letting on that you were well aware of that fact—and that this was precisely the reason you wanted to go. “I don’t mind. I really want those fries.” The lie rolled off your tongue smoothly with a pleading grin, and Steve, none the wiser, nodded.

“Sure, why not?” he agreed, making a quick turn in the direction of the diner. The drive was short, the streets of Hawkins quiet as the car rolled up to the diner. The neon sign flickered above the entrance, casting a warm glow over the parking lot. You and Steve walked inside, and as you slid into the booth, you made sure to sit close to him, your thigh brushing against his. The waitress came by to take your order, and just as the menus were being collected, you heard the loud, familiar voices of the Hawkins High baseball team. They were pouring into the diner, still riding the high of their victory. Steve looked over, grinning as he greeted some of his teammates, but your attention was elsewhere.

Billy.

He walked in with the others, his gaze sweeping across the diner until it landed on you. The moment he saw you cozied up next to Steve, his expression darkened, a muscle ticking in his jaw. You smiled sweetly as if you were completely oblivious to his presence, but inside, you were reveling in the tension. You and Steve chatted for a bit, making light conversation as you nibbled on your fries. But your mind was only half on the conversation, the rest focused on timing as you tirelessly indulged in flirting—which Steve ate right up. You waited until he was getting touchier, with you playing right along with it, laughing and grinning. When his eyes fell to your lips for the first time, you took notice of it immediately, taking your chance. You leaned in, closing the distance between you and Steve, pressing your lips to his. The kiss was soft, teasing and just long enough to draw attention. You could hear the sudden murmur of voices, the shift in the diner’s atmosphere as the team took notice—then came the chant. “Harrington! Harrington!” The guys were egging him on, laughing and cheering as if this were some sort of victory lap for him.

Steve pulled back, looking both surprised and pleased, his cheeks flushing slightly under the attention. But you weren’t done yet. You glanced sideways, catching Billy’s eye—his face a mask of barely contained fury. The satisfaction of having riled him up filled you with a heady sense of triumph. Turning back to Steve, you leaned closer, your voice low and sultry. “Wanna get out of here? Maybe go somewhere more… private?”

Steve blinked at you, his grin widening as he nodded eagerly. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Without a second glance at the team—or Billy—you grabbed Steve’s hand, pulling him out of the booth and heading for the door. As you stepped out into the cool night air, you couldn’t help but glance over your shoulder one last time, catching the sight of Billy, his eyes burning holes into your back as you and Steve disappeared into the night.

Tonight, you were in control—and Billy knew it.

You and Steve pulled up to your house, the car coming to a smooth stop in the driveway. Steve looked over at you with a small, hopeful smile, clearly expecting the night to continue. You had played this part well, your voice sweet and full of mock surprise as you turned to him with wide eyes. “Steve, I’m so sorry,” you said, faking a wince. “I was so sure my parents wouldn’t be home, but it looks like I was wrong.” You gestured vaguely toward the house, where a light was on in the living room.

Steve’s face fell slightly, but he quickly masked it, giving you a reassuring smile. “Oh, it’s no problem. We can always take a raincheck, right?”

You nodded, flashing him a grateful smile. “Definitely. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

With a slight sigh, Steve leaned in to give you a quick, chaste kiss before pulling back. “I’ll call you tomorrow?”

“Sure,” you replied, giving him a wave as you got out of the car. You watched him drive away, the taillights fading into the distance before you turned and headed up the steps to your front door. As you stepped inside, you saw your mother lounging on the couch, a book in her hands. She didn’t even glance up as you walked in, completely engrossed in whatever she was reading. You checked the clock on the wall—it was getting late, but you knew you had some time to kill. “Hey, Mom,” you said, your tone light and casual. “A car’s gonna pull up in like an hour. When it does, can you call me down?”

Your mother simply nodded, her eyes never leaving the page. “Sure, honey,” she replied absentmindedly.

You grinned to yourself, the excitement bubbling up inside you as you headed upstairs to your room. The plan had worked perfectly—Steve had been the perfect decoy, and now all you had to do was wait. You plopped down on your bed, grabbing a magazine from your nightstand. As you flipped through the glossy pages, your mind wasn’t really on the fashion trends or celebrity gossip. Instead, you were thinking about Billy. You had provoked him enough tonight—enough to push him over the edge.

The minutes ticked by each one dragging longer than the last. But finally, after an eternity, you heard your mother’s voice calling from downstairs.

“Honey, there’s a car outside!”

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You followed your special routine as you always did—checking your reflection, touching up the fading shade of red on your lips, fluffing your hair. All of it before you even considered taking a step down to where your mother was curiously leering at the blue Camaro waiting for you outside through the barely open blinds. You told her goodbye, saying that a friend from school was picking you up and would bring you right back. Your mother had always trusted you—trusted you to hold your own, to be strong, to make mindful, good decisions. So, even as you stepped outside the house at that late hour, she didn’t say much, merely telling you to be careful. 

Outside, the night air was thick with the humidity of a summer’s night, the streetlights casting long shadows against the pavement. And there it was—a blue Camaro parked right outside her house.

Perfect.

You sauntered toward the car, hips swaying in that complacent way that you had mastered to the T, taking your sweet, sweet time. Billy was leaned back in the driver’s seat, one hand draped lazily over the steering wheel, the other bringing a cigarette to his lips. The tip of it flared a bright orange, his sharp jaw tightening as he took another drag. He didn’t look at you. Not at first. But you felt when he did.

You reached his door and leaned down, resting your arms against the open window, tilting your head. “Aww,” you teased, voice syrupy sweet and so terribly mocking you thought you saw his eye twitch. “You came all this way for little old me?”

Billy exhaled, the smoke curling in the air between you, drifting into the warm night air. And then—finally—his head turned, his gaze locking onto yours.

There wasn’t the anger in his eyes which you had been expecting. Instead, it was flat and unreadable but no less intense. It was the kind of look that could make a girl shrink. Wilt.

You, though, only tilted your head, unbothered, amused. “What? I don’t get a hello?”

His blue eyes burned, but he stayed silent, taking another few drags of his cigarette until he flicked it away. Then— “Get in the car.” No teasing. No taunting grin. Just those three words that knocked the wind out of your smirk. You weren’t exactly expecting that. You had mentally prepared for a fight. Banter. Something to toy with before you inevitably ended up in the car anyway. But the way he said it? Like there wasn’t another option? Like he had already decided? Your pulse skipped.

For a moment.

Then, you just grinned.

You straightened up, letting your fingers drag against the frame of the window as you moved, just slow enough to make your point. Then, wordlessly, you opened the car door and slid into the passenger seat, the scent of leather, cologne and cigarettes enveloping you immediately. It was the scent of him that you had gotten to know rather well in the past year.

You kicked your boots up onto the dash, shifting in your seat, turning to face him, knowing that at any other time, he would have gripped your legs and shoved them off the dash. Now, he did nothing. Nothing, except lighting another cigarette.

He still wasn’t looking at you. But his fingers? His fingers gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white, his jaw clenching so forcefully you feared for his teeth.

You bit your lip, smothering another smirk.

Oh, this was going to be fun.

You drove for a little while until the asphalt beneath Billy’s tires shifted to gravel and dirt as you headed down a familiar road, the car kicking up dust behind you. Within a few moments, the trees cleared, and you found yourself at the spot. Your spot. The little hidden oasis away from the rest of the world. The headlights cut through the darkness, reflecting off the still water of the lake. The only sound was the hum of the engine until Billy killed it, plunging you both into a deafening silence.

You didn’t speak right away and instead took to watching him. He was still gripping the steering wheel, his jaw still set, and he still didn’t look at you. Not yet, anyway.

When the silence stretched too long for your liking, you kicked your feet back down onto the ground, let out a dramatic sigh and opened the door before stepping into the cool night air. Even the nature seemed to have quieted in your presence, except for the occasional rustle of wind shifting the leaves. You heard Billy’s door shut behind you, the soft thuds of his footsteps as he approached.  

“So?” you asked, voice low and teasing.

Billy stood a few paces behind you, hands braced on his hips. He was silent for a moment, then let out a low, humorless chuckle. “You’re a real piece of work you know that?”

You’re one to talk. Rolling your eyes, you turned, a smirk dancing on your painted lips. “Took you this long to figure it out?”

His eyes flicked down your body, slow and deliberate, before snapping back to your face. He stepped forward, closing the distance. “You think you’re real funny, huh? Throwin’ yourself at fucking Harrington just to piss me off?”

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “Who said that was about you?”

Again, his jaw clenched, his blue orbs narrowing as the tension between you thickened—suffocatingly so. Without warning, he closed the gap between the two of you, standing so close you could feel his breath on your lips, taste it, taste him.

Whatever game you two had been playing, Billy had lost the second he had pulled up to your house. You knew it and he knew it too.

“You wanted me to come after you?” Billy growled, his voice deep and raw, his eyes blazing with heat. “To sit there and watch you shove your tongue down Harrington’s throat just to get a rise out of me?”

Your pulse spiked, but you held your ground and instead of giving in, you merely shrugged. “Looks like it worked.”

Billy laughed though it was devoid of even a speck of humor. “You think this is funny?”

Again, you shrugged, digging the tip of your boot into the dirt below, trying to act nonchalant even as your heart began hammering in your chest. “Shows me you care, doesn’t it?”

That was the breaking point.

Billy’s hands were suddenly on your waist, pulling you flush against him. His lips crashed onto yours, angry, desperate, raw. There was nothing soft about it. It was a collision, no longer a game but a fight neither of you were willing to lose. You gasped as his hands wandered, digging into the flesh of your hips, but you kissed him back just as hard, your nails scraping down his back. It wasn’t gentle and definitely wasn’t sweet. It was heat and fire and all you had been craving for weeks.

When you finally broke apart, you were both breathless, lips swollen and hearts pounding. Billy gripped your jaw, forcing you to look at him as his eyes searched yours, intense and raw. “You win, Cherry,” he muttered, voice thick. “Happy now?”

You stared at him, your lips still tingling from the kiss. There was a rush of adrenaline as his nose brushed yours, eyes latching onto yours only to find his pupils blown. A slow smile spread on your lips, your hand wandering from his back into his locks. You drew your brows together, giving him the best doe-eyes you managed. “We were playing a game?”

Billy’s hands returned to your waist, his grip tighter this time and his breath hot on your skin. He pulled you closer, his lips brushing over yours once more. It was different this time. There was no anger, no frustration. There was something else—something heavier and deeper and scarier.

“You think you’re so goddamn clever, don’t you?” Billy’s murmured, his voice low as his lips brushed against yours.

You met his glare, chin lifted and smirking as you hushed, “I know I am.”

Billy chuckled, shaking his head slightly as his hands tightened around you. “You drive me fucking insane, you know that, Cherry Baby?”

You didn’t flinch. You threw it back at him. “Good. Now you know how it feels.”

Billy snapped. His hands were in your hair, his lips crashing against yours with a ferocity that left no room for doubt. No teasing. Just need. You moaned, melting into him as his hands moved over your body, grabbing fistfuls of your curves with a satisfied hum. You kissed him back with everything you had, because now, now it wasn’t merely a game anymore. It was something else entirely.

Billy shoved you back against his car, a gasp flying from your mouth as the cool metal pressed into your back. Without hesitation, you let him lift you onto the hood of the car, your body arching into his. Billy popped open the fly of your pants with quick fingers, shimmying the material down your thighs before his hands returned to your body, sliding you forward until your core pressed up against his denim-clad thigh.

You breathed out a moan, head falling back as he moved your body against his, grinding you against his burly thigh, the muscle pressing sinfully against your clit. His lips fell to your neck, biting and sucking and teasing in a way that was purely and wholly and wickedly Billy Hargrove. One hand moved from your hips over your body, trailing the flesh of your breast before finding the cherry locks of your hair and pulling. His other hand slipped between your thighs, rough thumb finding your sensitive nub through the dampening fabric of your panties. You moaned, brows screwing together at the touch.

“That what you wanted, Cherry Baby?” He murmured against your throat, nibbling at the skin with a cocky smirk.

Your teeth sank into your bottom lip to keep from begging him to slip beneath the constricting fabric, instead you huffed a breath that wasn’t half as annoyed as you wished it to be. “Not even close.”

“No?” He questioned with a chuckle, clearly feeling your tensing legs around his hand as he thumbed at your clit.

You breathed through the moan threatening to give you away, shaking your head. “Can’t see what all the fuss is about.”

Before you could blink, his face was hovering in front of yours, a glint in his eyes that made the pit of your stomach tingle in an unfamiliar way. His blue orbs trailed your face, his finger drawing quick, tight circles on your panties, making your legs twitch in an attempt to keep them from instinctively shutting. Billy kissed you then, tongue slipping into your mouth, stealing whatever breath you had left.

When he pulled away, he was smirking. “Careful what you ask for, Cherry Baby.”

“Awfully full of yourself, aren’t you?” You breathed, hand pressing into the hood of his car beside you, looking for anything to take a hold of, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of you gripping him.

He hummed, grinning. “Just taking a page out of your book.” Before you had any chance to react, he ripped your panties down your legs with such force, he almost pulled you off the hood. “Lie back.”

You huffed. “Bossy, are we?”

His fingers were tangled in the back of your hair in the blink of an eye, pulling your head back to look up at him. “Let me make something clear to you, Cherry. You do as I say, or you can get those skimpy fucking panties back on and I’ll drive you home, you got that?” His eyes flitted over your expression, watching your face contort in what he could only explain as a mixture of seething anger and a fucking pout that let him know you were going to give in. “Now, you wanna finish this?” When you nodded, a sly smirk took over his face before he brought your face to his for another kiss. “Good,” he breathed after pulling away. “Then shut your mouth for once in your life and lie back, Cherry.” 

Huffing a little, you did as you were told, settling against the cool metal of the blue Camaro, the sting of the cold making you hiss in surprise. Billy was settled between your thighs, hitching them around his hips as he leaned in and pressed a kiss just above your bellybutton. You watched him as you trailed his lips up your body, nibbling and sucking on the skin as though he was the one savoring the feeling. His hands slid up along your bare side, teasing fingers dipping beneath the fabric of your top, your stomach clenching in anticipation. With one fluid movement, he slipped the fabric from your head, discarding it somewhere beside the car. You had half a mind to remind him that the ground was dirty and thus throwing your clothes down, was not okay—until he bit your nipple, that is.

You gasped, arching upward, feeling his teeth through the lacy material of your bra. With furrowed brows and an open mouth, your eyes flickered down only to find him already looking at you, grinning around your breast as though he knew exactly how he was making you feel. That bastard.

His hand slid underneath your back, urging you to lift upward just a little before he unclasped your bra blindly, pulling the pesky material away as though its mere existence was insulting him. You were left butt-naked in the middle of the woods—and you didn’t care one fucking bit, not when Billy was bringing his mouth back down, warm tongue licking and sucking your hardened buds back into his mouth.

You couldn’t help the little whine that tumbled from your lips, your eyes falling shut as he played with your body as if it belonged to him. Torturously and deliciously. Wet from his mouth, the gentle breeze made you gasp at the sudden sensation.

Billy slipped further down your body, hands melting down your curves, your thighs and the roundness of your ass, before he pulled you forward to the edge of the hood.

“Tell me, baby,” he hushed, dipping between your legs and placing a kiss to the dip of your thigh as his blue orbs found yours, “are you sweet like cherries?” Within seconds his arms wrapped around your thighs, eyes piercing yours as he tilted forward and brought his tongue to your center.

The suddenness of the warm and wet muscle made you gasp, legs tensing around his head. You didn’t know what you had been expecting—though whatever it was, it wasn’t this. When you thought of Billy with another girl, you thought of no foreplay at all, you thought of a selfish man, selfishly exploiting women’s bodies for his selfish pleasures. It was the same thing you had been doing to men for years before he had shown up in Hawkins.

Perhaps he was still being selfish even now, because with how desperately he moved against you, tongue slipping through your folds and groaning against you, he was more content than you would ever have thought him to be. Not that you were complaining.

He was tasting you like he needed to make up for all the times you had denied him. You moaned, hands diving into his hair, gripping his curls in a tight fist. There was a slight prickling sensation as you moved against him, the stubble of his mustache gliding over your skin.

Appearing as blissfully as you felt, he dipped his head down further, nestling his tongue inside as though he had made it his mission to lap you dry, to take everything you were ready to give. He drew his tongue from your hole to the very tip of your center, curling it around your clit before enclosing it with glistening lips and sucking. Moaning, you tried moving against him, trying to get more of what he was offering, but his burly hands held you locked tightly against the hood of his car, making any attempts at moving futile.

With his gaze locked onto yours in a pointed stare, that told you exactly he didn’t appreciate you trying to grind against him, he slipped one of his hands from your thigh, slipping two fingers into your snug walls. He was gentle at first, feeling around the plushness of your cunt before he slid in deeper and deeper, and you arched. He pressed forward with his fingers, massaging against the spot inside of you that had your teeth clamping down onto your lip.

Fuck.

For a mere second, he pulled away from you, breathing heavily, his eyes shimmering with something you couldn’t possibly put into words. He leaned over you, pressing a feathery kiss to your forehead, your cheek, your nose before brushing against your ear, hushing words so softly you almost didn’t grasp them, “I want to watch you cry for me.”

Gone was all gentleness as he latched his mouth back onto your clit, sucking and licking and enjoying each sound he managed to draw from you, relishing it, reveling in it. His fingers moved harder, more insistently. Faster, until he could feel your walls clenching and your legs tensing around him.

“Good girl,” he hummed, feeling your body throb for him before he reattached his mouth, smirking.

Your legs shook, clamping shut around his head as far as it was possible, as you lifted your back off the hood, trying to pull him impossibly closer, moaning with no care for who might hear. Orgasm subsiding with Billy working you through the waning zips of pleasure, you settled back against his Camaro, brows furrowing as the sensation of his lips was becoming far too sensitive.

“Billy,” you gasped, trying to close your legs but he merely wrapped his arms around your thighs and pushed them further apart—holding them open. “Billy, I came, stop,” you moaned, tugging at his hair, trying to get his attention but he continued to ignore you, lips and tongue coiled around your sensitive clit. Your legs trembled at the overstimulating sensation, a whimper ripping from your throat. “Billy! Stop, stop, stop! Fuck,” you whined, hips lifting off the metal, trying to get away from him, but his arms held you locked tightly against his mouth. You cried out, pushing at his head, your legs shaking as he continued.

Something white-hot snapped through you, your back aching, legs tensing as your body went rigid with another orgasm. You cried out, voice dying into a cacophony of whimpers. Your heart was hammering, legs weak and twitching with the aftershocks as Billy finally detached his lips from your center, wet and glistening. Squeezing your eyes shut, they burned with overwhelmed tears with how forcefully your orgasm had ripped through you.

A warm palm pulled you upward against a warm, solid body, caressing over your skin with a softness you hadn’t thought possible from someone like Billy. He held you close as your arms went around his neck, his hand running up and down your leg reassuringly as he encouraged you to calm down, continuing until your shivers subsided.

“Good?” He murmured into your hair, still stroking your thighs, your side, your back.

You hummed, your eyelids feeling terribly droopy as you rested your forehead against his shoulder. “That was—” You had never come so hard in your fucking life, “—good.”

“Yeah?” You could feel him smirking as he stroked the length of your back with a reassuring palm before he pressed a kiss against your neck. “Did so good for me.”

Before you had a chance to settle, his hands were pulling at your hips, lifting you away just far enough for him to undo his leather belt and zipper. Slowly his hand reached for yours, drawing your palm against the hardness within his briefs. His forehead grazed yours, noses slightly brushing as a grin adorned the sharp features of his face. “You always have me so hard, Cherry Baby,” he hummed, lips trailing down to our neck. “Every time I see you—” his longue lapped at the sensitive spot beneath your ear, his teeth soon following, “—smell you, taste you.” A sound you could only describe as resembling a growl reverberated in his throat. “You drive me insane, Cherry. But you know that, don’t you?” He nodded to himself, lips teasing yours. “You enjoyed it, didn’t you, Cherry Baby?” Billy tutted, one hand returning to your thighs, fingers finding the aching spots where he had gripped you earlier before digging back in, drawing a gasp from your lips. “You aren’t a good girl are you, Cherry. No, you’re fucking filthy.”

You felt it then, the hardness against your naked thighs as he guided himself against your sore pussy. The tip of his cock parted your lips, trailing from your seeping hole to your oversensitive button, making you flinch with a surprised squeal.

“Cherry Baby, you’re dripping for me,” Billy groaned, circling your clit once more, smirking slyly at the uncontainable tremble of your thighs he received in response. “Poor baby.” Amusement tinted his voice, cadence drawn and condescending. “It’s all achy, isn’t it? All for me. Could have made it all better so long ago if you hadn’t been such a bitch about it.”

Bitch. You drew back at that, frowning at his words but Billy remained smiling. Before you knew what you were doing, your hand had lifted, ready to strike him. His hands caught your wrist not a second later, and with one final tsk, he plunged his cock into you to the hilt. You moaned, nails digging into his shoulders at the sudden intrusion. There was a burn as the size of him stretched you, though the blissful tingle in the depth of your pussy, where his member grazed your walls had you holding onto him in pleasure.

“Say thank you, baby. I’m making the ache go away, aren’t I, honey?” Billy cooed as one of his burly arms wrapped around your hip, the other crossing your back to your shoulder, bringing you impossibly closer to him. “What did I tell you?”

When you remained silent, he pulled back and rutted back into you with one forceful thrust, making you cry out, your eyes squeezing shut. “Thank you, Billy.” The whine left your mouth pathetically, pleasure burning in your lower belly as Billy continued to rut into you so impossibly deep that you felt the effects of his thrust coursing through your legs to the tips of your toes.

“Fuck,” Billy cursed, pushing into you once again until the tip of his cock hit the deepest part of you. You gasped, the pleasure too much and too uncomfortable for you to stay still. “Have been wanting that pretty pussy wrapped around me since the first time I saw you.” The steady rolls of his hips turned desperate as he rutted forward harsher, pulling you to him tighter, his head dropping into the crook of your neck. You cried out as his teeth sunk into your neck, his thrust loud and filthy in the night air as your body rocked with every single one. He shifted one of his arms, his hand creeping between your bodies before his thumb landed on your sore clit.

“No,” you protested weakly, your hand clutching his wrist as he drew quick circles on your pulsing nerves. “Billy—’s too much, hurts.”

“Shh,” he hushed, hand staying between your legs even as you strained to push him off. “Shh, baby, ‘s gonna feel so good,” he murmured, pinching your clit once before resuming his quick little circles, that had you trying to close your legs, trying to force him away. There was a burning in the pit of your stomach, low and hot and so fucking overwhelming that tears were once more gathering on your lashes. “There we go,” Billy cooed, fingers continuing their strokes as your legs drew up further, thighs shaking. It happened within a second—the burning sensation spread through your body, tingles coursing throughout every limb as your orgasm snapped through you. “There we go, honey, fuck—” His hips stuttered as you clenched around him, eyes shut tightly as he drew out your orgasm with every rut of his hips. Billy drew back, slipping out of you as his hand, stained with your wetness, wrapped around his cock, finishing himself off with quick jerks of his hand. A deep groan sounded in the back of his throat as white ropes of cum squirted from his tip, his member twitching satisfied within his grasp.

Still partially hard, Billy stepped back up to you, eyes glued to the glistening mess he had made between your thighs. As if transfixed by the sight, his hand crept forward as he let his pointer run through your folds. He bumped against your swollen bundle of nerves, causing you to twitch away from his. Billy grinned down at you at that, doing it again just out of sheer amusement, earning a whine from you as you shoved at his hand. “No—"

“Ask me nicely, Cherry Baby.”

“Please,” you breathed out, shaking your head. “Please, I can’t—”

Billy shushed you, arms wrapping around your frame before you were pressed up against him. His lips found yours, not tame or nice but wild and messy and possessive. His tongue slid into your mouth, free hand falling to your chin as he held you in place for his pleasure, his taking.

“Let’s get you dressed again, huh, honey?”

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You sat in the passenger seat, wrapped in Billy’s jean jacket, your legs pulled up onto the light faux leather. The windows were getting foggier with every moment spent sitting beside each other in silence. Neither of you had spoken a word after getting re-dressed and slipping out of the cold air back into the Camaro. Billy lit a cigarette, the tip flaring in an orange glow as he brought it between his lips. He didn’t look at you, eyes trained to his left and he looked so casual, so careless as though he hadn’t just spent the last hour giving you the best orgasm of your life. It vexed you somehow, how comfortable he was—and you couldn’t help the thought that crept up in the back of your mind, that all of his ease was because he had finally gotten what he wanted. No need to make an effort now that he had had you.

You leaned your head back against the window, watching him from the corner of your eye as the silence stretched on between you. Your teeth clenched, nails picking at skin on your cuticles as your heart stuttered at the thought of having been used by him.

“So,” you spoke up finally, voice far too casual for what you were actually feeling, “that’s it then?”

Billy glanced at you, one brow raised. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You shrugged, but your stomach was twisting. “I mean, I guess that’s what you wanted, right? Another notch. Congrats.”

He blinked, then scoffed, shaking his head. “Are you seriously starting a fight right now?”

“I’m just saying,” you snapped, defensive anger curling through your words, “I’ve seen the way you go through girls, Billy. It’s like a revolving door. So excuse me if I’m not exactly booking a date for round two.”

His jaw tightened, cigarette clenched between his fingers. He turned to you fully now, irritation flickering across his face, but something else too—something softer beneath the usual fire. “You really think I’d chase your ass all over Hawkins just to fuck you once and dip?”

You crossed your arms, heart pounding. “Wouldn’t be the first time someone did.”

Billy exhaled sharply, flicking ash out the window. Then, finally, he looked at you. Really looked at you. And his voice, when it came, was low and rough but uncharacteristically steady. “You were never a game to me, Cherry.” Your chest tightened. “I mean it,” he continued, softer now, like it hurt to admit. “You were always... I don’t know. Untouchable. And yeah, maybe I was pissed you kept pretending not to like me. Like I wasn’t an option.” He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “But I like you. Always have.”

“I’m scared,” you muttered, the words falling out before you could stop them. You stared at your hands, picking at the fraying edge of Billy’s jacket. “I’ve never done anything like this before. Not the sex—I’ve done that. But this… whatever this is.”

Billy was quiet for a moment, then murmured, “Yeah, me neither.”

That made you laugh—quiet, humorless. “We’re a mess.”

He smirked. “No shit.”

You glanced sideways at him. “I don’t want a relationship.”

“Didn’t say you had to have one.”

“I’m just saying, I’m not good at all that couple crap.”

Billy nodded slowly. “Never thought about it much.”

You paused. “We could keep fucking though.”

His head turned to you so fast it was almost comical. “Exclusively,” he said without missing a beat, voice sharp.

You raised your brows. “Jealous much?” He didn’t deny it, just looked at you, eyes dark and serious. You smirked. “Fine. Exclusively. But I want you to take me out, too.”

Billy narrowed his eyes. “That sounds like a date.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not,” you said, playful glint in your eye. “It’s... exclusively fucking, with occasional food.”

His lip curled into a grin. “You’re out of your goddamn mind.”

You leaned your head back again, a smile tugging at your lips. “Takes one to know one, Hargrove.”

He didn't answer and continued to smoke.

"Are you kidding me?" you huffed, now scowling at him "We've been invited together! You know how awkward it's going to be for me if you don’t show up, especially when we’re..." You gestured vaguely between the two of you, searching for the right word. "When we’re like this."

Eddie's brow furrowed as he finally stared at you. The lazy, post-coital warmth in his eyes hardened, making you shift away from him. 

"Like what? We sleep together, that's all there is between us. That doesn't mean I have to be your plus-one to every social obligation you have."

You swallowed hard and tried to stay calm, but your frustration with Eddie's behaviour over the last few weeks kept mounting.

Eddie became irritable and rude, even mean at times, until he'd offer some pathetic apology, invite you over for sex to make up for it, just to end up being rude again. His genuine softness and care seemed to wither away; he wasn't the same Eddie you fell in love with. The Eddie who made more than an effort, who dropped everything to make sure you were okay before you even knew what was wrong, who acted as if you were more than just two people who had regular sex.

"It's not an obligation, I just want my boyfriend---" you felt as if you had stepped into a bear trap uttering that word, you quickly lowered your voice, trying to recover "or whatever you think you are, to be at a party with me."

Boyfriend. Eddie wanted to be your boyfriend more than anything, but nothing could ever convince him he was good enough to be such a thing to you; he couldn't risk getting his hopes up and falling for a lie. Not again. 

"Boyfriend?" Eddie broke into a light laugh, shaking his head, though his heart ached at the word. "Can't you just accept that I don't want to go and move on with it? I don't want to deal with Steve and other people I can't stand getting too drunk for their own good."

"Why are you being like this?" you snapped, sitting up and pulling the sheet around you, covering your breasts. "You're being a dick to me all the time at the moment, and I'm sick of it! How many times have I gone to The Hide Out to spend time with you, surrounded by drunken creeps?"

You weren't wrong. Eddie knew he had been more than unfair to you, the guilt began to flood hin his chest and pool in the pit of his stomach. He wanted to give in and apologise, but he couldn't; his dad taught him otherwise, and he switched off all of Wayne's advice and voice of reason. 

Unable to control the narrative, Eddie sat up, his movements now sharp and agitated. He crushed the cigarette into the overflowing ashtray on the nightstand with a bit too much force, making it shake.

You continued, "You’re so incredibly selfish sometimes. You want me in your room, on your terms. But as soon as I want you to be part of my life outside of sex, you turn into someone else. We're meant to be friends! What happened to that?"

"I don't want to be your fucking friend, I don't want to be part of your life outside of this arrangement!" Eddie raised his voice, making you jump.

A sudden intense heaviness settled on top of your chest, and your eyes pricked with tears. You pursed your lips and sighed with a shaky breath. Swinging your legs over the side of his bed, you grabbed your clothes off the floor, forcing them back on in silence. Standing up, you walked out of his room, trying to blink away the tears.

"Where are you going?" he called out from his bed through the slight gap in his door.

"To sleep on the couch," you shouted back.

Eddie sat in the silence, the mattress still bearing the faint smell of your perfume as he stared at where you had been sitting, his chest feeling hollowed out. He wanted to go after you. His feet were practically twitching to hit the floor and pull you off the couch, to explain everything as he carried you back to his room and apologise. He wanted to tell you that he didn’t mean it, that he'd make an effort and go to the party, even if he hated it. But he stayed put, unable to face you after hurting you when you were so vulnerable.

As the night grew later, Eddie's guilt became heavier, sitting over him like a suffocating weighted blanket. The shame slapped him hard across the face every time you gave him that hopeful, longing expression, every time you hinted at becoming something more or showing him any sort of affection outside of sex. The worst part? Eddie knew exactly what he was doing, and you were too in love with him to realise that he knew

"Fuck," he whispered to himself, reaching for another cigarette, "I gotta stop pushing her away, man. Wait, fuck that. What am I thinking? No, no, no. This is sex and nothing more. This is all temporary until Mr Right comes and gives her the entire package." 

Yet, selfishly, he couldn't let you go. Dangling enough affection to keep you close but pulling back whenever you got too close, close enough to break the wall he'd been so hellbent on building. 

Eddie slumped back against the headboard, his eyes stinging as he smoked and stared up at the ceiling, focusing on the small cracks, hating himself for how he spoke to you, and for the fact that tomorrow he'd try to manipulate the situation just enough for you to forgive and run back to him. He could hear the muffled sounds of you moving around in the living room, settling onto the cushions, finishing his cigarette as he lay there in the dark, finally switching off the light.

You hated sleeping on the couch, even though it was a rare occurrence. The couch was uncomfortable and the air was bitterly cold. You searched for one of Eddie's blankets when you realised they were in his room, tangled up with the sheets in his bed.

"Fuck sake," you grumbled, giving up and trying to get comfortable enough to get warmth.

You couldn't face him again tonight, not after he made it clear you were just a fuck to him, not worthy of being seen with afterwards in any capacity.

It took you a while to drift off between the cruel reminder of what he said between sobs, but eventually your brain shut off, your eyes closed, and the darkness temporarily consumed you.

The first light of dawn began to bleed through the thin curtains, waking you from your sleep. Your skin was ice cold and looked slightly marbled. You didn't wait around for the sun to finish rising, and you knew Wayne would be furious with Eddie for leaving you on the couch, so you stood up with stiff legs and began packing your things. 

You heard the floor creak in the hallway.

"Hey," Eddie’s voice was gravelly, thick with sleep.

 You didn't turn around. 

He stood in the doorway, his hair a mess, his eyes following your every move, his face dropping when he realised you had slept in the cold without a blanket. 

"What are you doing? It’s barely six."

"I'm going home before Wayne gets back," you replied coolly.

He walked into the room, lingering over you as you continued to pack, his posture hunched and his hands fidgeting at his sides.

"Come on, doll, you know I didn't mean any of that stuff. I was just tired, and irritable—"

"You were being a dick," you interrupted, sliding your feet into your shoes. "I didn't deserve that, Eddie."

"I'm sorry," Eddie sighed, pushing his hair out of his face, "can you just come back to bed? I'll make you a coffee, and we can talk about the party later." 

You grabbed your bag and brushed past him, walking towards the door and fighting the temptation to give in and crawl into his bed, allowing him to smother you in kisses before you took the blame for his behaviour, repeating the cycle. 

Grabbing the handle, you briefly turn back to face Eddie with his beautiful, wide eyes.

"I'm not your girlfriend," you reminded him, "there's nothing else to talk about."

Eddie began to panic as you opened the door and walked out. He snatched his van keys and hurried after you. "Just let me drive you home, it's fucking freezing out here."

"You're not my boyfriend, Eddie!" You raised your voice, as you picked up speed, leaving the trailer park. The neighbour's dog barking after you. 

Eddie and Jonathan were cooped up in Jonathan's hotboxed room, already burning through his stash.

"Your mom not coming back tonight?" Eddie asked, "Where's Little Byers?"

Jonathan took a long drag, "Mom's at Bob's tonight, Will's at Mike's."

"And Nancy?" 

Jonathan exhaled, his eyes not changing from the default sad expression he'd had all year.

"She told me she needed space to figure out what she wants," he slowly stood up and walked across his bedroom, pulling out his bong from an unsuspecting cardboard box, filling the bong with water before bringing it over to Eddie, "Where's your girl?"

Eddie took the bong and scooped up the flower from his grinder and packed it into the bowl piece, "She’s going to Steve’s party tonight. I fucked up last night, pretty bad." 

Jonathan looked over at the mention of Steve, his brow furrowing. He finished his joint and stamped it out on the ashtray, "Why'd you do that, man?"

Eddie ran a shaky hand through his messy hair, "because I'm too much of a coward to tell her how I really feel, to treat her how she deserves to be treated, I got scared. Her eagerness to be committed to me scares me." 

"So you're just going to let her go to this party on her own, let her get too drunk, where anyone can make a move on her?" Jonathan took the bong from Eddie, "I don't know, Eddie, I couldn't do that to Nancy, especially if it's Steve."

Jonathan held the bong with one hand, his mouth inside the mouthpiece, whilst lighting the weed with the other. He inhaled deeply as the smoke climbed through the chamber of the bong and into the mouthpiece. 

"You should've seen her face before she walked out, and the way that she ended things when she left. She's done with me, man, whatever chance I had at her actually being my girl, I stupidly pissed away." 

Jonathan didn't offer any more advice or sympathy. He just leaned back and let out a long, slow breath, wearily passing Eddie the bong as he slumped back against the cushions, closing his eyes. 

You stood in Steve's kitchen, surrounded by people you didn't recognise, feeling like an imposter. Every time the front door opened, you caught yourself glancing over with hopes that Eddie realised how much showing up would mean to you, but he never came. 

Every time someone else walked through that door, you had a drink, and then another. You were swaying slightly when Steve found you but luckily, he was just as drunk as you were, with bright eyes filled with tiny tears.

"Hey," he smiled, quickly blinking away his tears. He looked around the kitchen and through the waves of his guests, then back at you, his eyebrows knitting together. "Where’s Munson? I thought you two were a package deal tonight."

Your chest tightened, and your embarrassment felt hot and prickly, climbing up your neck and flushing up to your cheeks. You tried to take another quick, desperate gulp of your drink, but looked even more horrified when you realised it was empty. 

You didn't want to lie; you were tired of hiding things, you knew it wasn't Steve's business, but you couldn't stop your truth from spilling out.

"We're not a package deal," you slurred, "he doesn't want to be seen with me in any ca-capacity that isn't his bedroom."

"Wait, you're not..." Steve realised how obvious it seemed now. He took a sip of his beer, "What a dickhead." He studied you carefully and closed in on the gap between you so he didn't have to talk too loudly. "You okay?"

You shook your head, your lower lip quivering, "No, I'm not okay. I'm in love with a guy who..."

"Thought it was all bullshit? Yeah, Nance pulled that one on me a few years ago." Steve leaned in but offered you a grin that didn't reach his eyes "We’re quite a pair, aren't we?"

Steve's self-pity was contagious; you reached for the bottle of vodka sitting on the counter and refilled your cup, "Fancy a dance?" you asked him, not wanting to talk about Eddie anymore.

Steve flashed a genuine smile and took your hand, "Don't go stepping on my feet." 

An hour later, the party had dissolved into a blurred, spinning mess. You were leaning heavily against Steve, your head lolling on his shoulder. You were both swaying together, giggling at absolutely nothing, while your drinks sat forgotten on the floor.

"I'm glad I came tonight," you slurred, trying to focus on his face but seeing two of him instead. "You're... you're a good listener."

"I'm a great listener," Steve agreed, his voice thick. He looked at you, and for a second, the sadness in his eyes was replaced by a drunken, reckless curiosity. "And you're... you're too good for Eddie."

"He's what I want, but I just wish I could forget him for a night," you confessed, "like how you could do with forgetting Nancy for a moment."

Steve went quiet, his hand resting on your lower back, the air between you feeling heavier. 

"Y-you're not Nance," he murmured, his hand coming up to your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

"And you're not Eddie," you whispered.

He leaned in, and when his lips met yours, the kiss became a frantic collision of desperation and as you kissed Steve back with mirrored intensity, you couldn't stop yourself from pulling him closer so his body was pressed against yours before your fingers became tangled in his hair. 

Steve pulled back just an inch, "Let's go upstairs, no one will notice."

You weren't thinking about Eddie, Steve wasn't thinking about Nancy, and neither of you was thinking about the consequences.  

"I trust you," you said above the music as he took your hand with a firm grip, pulling you through the crowded room. 

People were shouting, dancing, and laughing. You and Steve weaved between them and navigated the stairs together, stumbling slightly until he pushed open the door to his room and shut it behind you, not realising he hadn't waited for the door to fully click shut. 

Steve kissed you again, harder this time, backing you toward the bed and easing you down on his mattress. Even in his drunken state, Steve was careful with you. His hands and lips roamed over you until you gained the confidence to mount him, which surprised and excited him. 

Allowing yourself to give into the moment after your moans and his groans seep through the room, you felt the tight knot in your stomach finally dissipate, causing Steve to get ahead of himself and spill himself inside of you. 

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"It's okay," you murmured, slowly unmounting him, clumsily falling beside him into his bed, "we'll worry about it in the morning."

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But this year? You kept it at home. Backyard pool, soft blue lights draped in canopies, your mom's old stereo blasting throwbacks. Your friends don’t get it, not really — not when you could’ve gone big like Heather did. But you didn’t want big. You wanted... him.

Rodrick.

Your mistake was telling Heather that. The two of you have always been a bit toxic — partners in crime, teeth bared under pink gloss smiles. But where you bit, Heather devoured. And she decided she wanted a taste of him too.

You learned quick it was never about liking Rodrick. Not for Heather. She just liked how easy he was to bait — a clumsy, wide-eyed stray who followed the bone she dangled in front of him, even when she was snapping it in half right after. And the worst part? He chased her like she was worth something.

You hated him for it. You hated yourself for watching it.

Now you're at your party, waist-deep in the water, drink sweating in your hand as you lean back against the cool tiles of your pool. The music’s pulsing, flashing in between choruses, your friends’ laughter echoing off the walls like it’s anyone’s night but yours. And then you hear it. That sharp, shrill cackle that cuts through everything.

Heather.

You tilt your head and there he is. Rodrick. Dripping wet. Sprawled half-dazed in a kiddie floatie he clearly didn’t try to get into willingly, with soda splashed down his shirt and some gross glitter lipgloss smeared on his cheek like a joke.

Heather and the other girls are laughing like it’s the goddamn Oscars.

Your grip tightens around your cup.

Because you saw it. You saw her fake trip into him, saw her whisper something to her friends before pushing the stupid float into his arms. Saw him just take it. Again.

And you hate the way he’s blinking through it all like maybe, maybe this time she’ll kiss him for real.

You lower your cup and shut your eyes for a second.

You threw this party for him. Your birthday. Your pool. Your playlist. Your drink recipes, damn near themed for his shitty band’s favorite albums. All because he liked pool nights. All because you were stupid enough to think maybe, if Heather wasn’t looking, he’d look at you.

But he’s never not looking at her.

You bite your tongue so hard it hurts.

And then, like clockwork, he’s wiping his face, dragging himself out of the shallow end like a sad, wet cat, and heading — right toward you.

“Yo,” Rodrick says, a little sheepish, hair plastered to his forehead, soda fizz still clinging to his sleeves. “These drinks? Kinda sick. What’s in the pink one—?”

You don’t let him finish. You just stare at him, that bitter knot in your throat tightening. He doesn’t get it. Of course he doesn’t. He never does.

“Is it vodka or, like, that pink lemonade crap from Trader Joe’s?” Rodrick keeps going, oblivious. He’s wringing out his shirt with one hand, licking soda off the corner of his mouth like that’s the most urgent thing in the world. “’Cause I swear I tasted both. Kinda fire. Wait—did you put something spicy in it? Like jalapeño or some shit? I saw that on some magazine—”

You don’t even look at him.

“Cool,” you say flatly, eyes still locked on the other end of the pool where Heather is doubled over in her bikini, laughing like she just won prom queen.

Rodrick laughs a little too. “Yeah, they thought it was funny, I guess. The floatie thing. I mean, whatever. Wasn’t that bad.”

“Mhm.”

“I got soda in my ear though. Like, in my ear. That ever happen to you? It’s like fizzy in my brain now—”

“Rodrick.”

He stops, eyes flicking to yours. You’re still not really looking at him — not properly. Just staring dead ahead, voice flat, body still half-draped in water, your fingers white-knuckling the rim of your glass.

“What?”

“Shut up.”

There’s a beat of silence. Just the bass line of the music thudding through the pool speakers and the distant shriek of someone doing a cannonball.

He laughs again, awkward this time. “Damn, okay. Someone’s moody tonight.”

You turn your head, slow.

He’s grinning like he didn’t just embarrass himself in front of half your graduating class. Like he didn’t make you want to scream every time he showed up looking hopeful, bruised and sticky and fucking blind.

And you don’t mean to snap.

But it bubbles up, spills over, drowns you.

“You’re so fucking annoying!”

It’s not loud at first. It’s sharp. Piercing. And for a second, it cuts straight through the static of the party. Rodrick reels back like you slapped him, blinking hard.

“What the hell?” he mutters, looking around, suddenly self-conscious.

People are watching now. A few heads turning from the drink table, some giggles quieting by the pool. A full-body flush crawls up your throat, but you don’t care. Not enough. Someone’s nudging Heather. The birthday party has screeched to a standstill, everyone watching the meltdown with wide eyes and shallow breaths, pool lights casting ripples over your soaked legs, your flushed cheeks.

You’re already moving, pushing off the edge of the pool, sloshing water as you storm toward the steps. You push out of the water, the drink in your hand forgotten as it splashes somewhere near the edge. Your hair’s clinging to your shoulders, the bottom of your sheer cover-up dripping down your thighs, but you don't care. You’re fuming and it hurts even more to know you don't even have to right to be.

You wipe at your face with a wet hand, mascara already trailing down your cheekbones, and huff a broken breath.

You storm through the crowd soaked, barefoot, and trembling — half from the cold water clinging to your thighs, half from rage that burns so deep it tastes metallic in your throat.

Everywhere is people.

Shoulders brush you, bodies press close in the narrow hallway as some junior you don’t even know screams-laughs about how she “totally got with that one lacrosse guy”. Someone knocks into your arm and doesn’t apologize. Another spills half their beer down the front of your cover-up.

No one notices it’s you. The birthday girl.

The house is packed — kids climbing over furniture, slumped in clumps on the stairs, smoke trailing from the open den, laughter spilling from bathrooms where they’re doing lines off your mom’s makeup counter. The party doesn't stop for you. It never does. You could vanish and they’d still go on, drunk off your dad’s liquor, high off your name.

Because it was never about you, was it?

You shoulder past a couple making out in your doorway and slam the door behind you, the bass muffled immediately.

You don’t even bother with a towel.

Your wet feet slap against the tile, against the hardwood, your body soaked and shaking, your hair a dripping mess down your back as you push through the crowd. Someone’s shoulder clips yours. Someone else drunkenly cheers your name like it’s part of a game.

No one really notices. Or if they do, they don’t care.

The birthday girl vanishing through her own house like a ghost? Not a headline when Heather’s holding court at the poolside with tequila shots and that skin-tight bikini. Not when the music’s thudding hard enough to rattle the walls and someone’s just plugged in a disco light in your living room.

Because this party was never really about you.

It was about the invite list. The photos. The way Heather could say she hosted your birthday without having to clean up after it.

You shove past a group crowding the hallway, wet arm smearing your own makeup on the doorframe as you make a sharp turn toward the stairs.

They part for you barely — a few slow looks, one guy mumbling something about you being “kinda dramatic,” but you don’t stop. You can’t. You take the stairs two at a time, chest tight and throat hot, mascara bleeding in rivers down your cheeks.

Your bedroom’s dark when you slam the door behind you.

Muted laughter still filters through the floorboards. You ignore it. Stumble into your ensuite bathroom, flick the light on, brace both hands against the counter.

Your reflection stares back at you — smeared lipstick, tangled hair, eyes blown out with too much everything. You drag a hand down your face, furious at the tears that won’t stop falling. The sink runs. The water’s ice cold.

Inside, it’s quiet and you like it. Your room and bathroom are untouched by the chaos outside — makeup still lined up along your dresser, along the sink, pink birthday balloons bobbing gently from your headboard. You dim the lights of your en-suite, fingers already tugging at the straps of your swimsuit. You're halfway to unraveling the stupid decorative braids Heather made you sit still for when you finally look up — eyes ringed in black from the run of your mascara, mouth trembling because you're far away from Rodrick and that's what matters right now.

But Rodrick’s still in the pool when people go back to laughing. Initially, anyway.

Someone tosses a float. Someone cranks the music louder. Someone else asks if there’s more beer, and just like that — it’s like nothing ever happened. Like the birthday girl didn’t just scream at him in the middle of her own party.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, still tasting soda and chlorine. His brow furrows.

“Wait,” he mutters under his breath, “what just happened?”

There’s a ripple of laughter a few feet away — not cruel, just amused — and it makes something prickle hot under his skin. He looks at the trail of wet footprints she left behind and suddenly he’s moving, scrambling out of the pool with a loud slap of bare feet on concrete.

He grabs his shirt, doesn’t bother wringing it out this time, just yanks it on half-soaked and starts wading through the mob of people like a lost puppy. Every hallway’s a blur of bodies and red solo cups and cigarette smoke, and for a second he’s not even sure where he’s going — until he remembers the layout from the one time he came over to pick up Heather for a party.

Upstairs. Left. Second door.

He takes the steps two at a time, breath caught somewhere in his throat. Her room’s closed. He hesitates, knocks once — soft, unsure — then pushes it open.

Empty.

His brows knit as he steps in, blinking. Then the soft click of a faucet behind the bathroom door draws him forward, and he inches closer, leaning just enough to peer through the open frame—

You scrub at your face again, smudging mascara in frustrated, angry swipes. Black streaks stain the towel you yank off the rack, and your breath hitches in short, shaky pulls as you press it to your eyes.

You hear the door creak open behind you.

Then his voice. Hesitant. Wet footprints on tile.

“...Yo?”

Your eyes flick up to the mirror and there he is. Rodrick. Damp hair a mess over his forehead, his soaked shirt clinging to his ribs, looking around like he’s half-expecting Heather to pop out and laugh in his face again.

You blink once. Breathe in deep.

Then flatly say, “Get out.”

He scoffs, genuinely offended, “Why?”

You don’t turn. Just grip the edge of the counter tighter, knuckles pale against porcelain. Your voice is low, almost calm — but there’s an unmistakable edge to it. Like the simmer before a boil.

“What are you doing here?”

Rodrick shrugs, throwing his hands out, water still dripping from his sleeves. “You just screeched like a freaking banshee at me in front of everyone, what do you mean what am I doing here?”

You lift your eyes to the mirror again. Your reflection looks so messed up it almost makes you laugh — runny mascara, eyes puffy, hair undone from the pretty braids you sat still for. You look like a drowned, humiliated brat.

So you snap.

“Well, Heather treats you like shit in front of everyone. Which would you rather?”

Rodrick blinks. Like that stunned blink of a dumb boy who’s never considered something until it’s hurled in his face. He doesn’t answer. Just stands there, jaw working like maybe he’s trying to come up with a quip, a joke, anything to deflect.

You keep going. Voice rising.

“I’m so tired of it. Of watching her yank you around like a little fucking joke, like she’s bored and you’re just the new shiny thing she can throw in front of people and laugh at. I’m tired of seeing you go along with it. You fall on your face and she laughs and you still chase her like a dog—” your breath cracks, “and it’s pathetic, Rodrick. And it’s sad. Because you’re not that stupid. You see it.”

You finally turn then, hand flinging toward him like you’re gesturing at a ghost only you can see. Your voice splinters somewhere between fury and ache. “And you still fucking let her!”

Tears well up now, uninvited, hot and blurring your vision. “You let her make fun of you. Humiliate you. Hurt you. And you just... take it. And I have to watch it. Every goddamn time—”

You cut yourself off with a ragged breath, wiping at your eyes even though it’s useless.

Rodrick is still frozen in the doorway. His mouth’s parted, brow furrowed like it physically hurts him to hear any of this. His shoulders sag just slightly, expression finally cracking from dumbfounded to... remorseful.

But he doesn’t say anything and neither do you, for a moment.

It hurts more because you were the one who would sneak off everytime Heather fucked him over, to check up on him, toddling over in shoes too sparkly and big for you— coming over with an icepack when Heather made him bash his lip against the edge of the rollerskating rink.

It hurts more because you were the one that would nudge him and ask him about whatever shitty music tape he was holding when no one at the table was paying attention to him.

It hurts more because you know you have no right to like him in the way you do.

You’re trembling by the time you spit out the last sentence, chest rising and falling like you just ran the length of the street. You’re too exhausted to shout anymore, too choked up to keep the edge in your voice. The silence afterward stretches thick between you both — breathless, muggy, fluorescent. The soft buzz of the bathroom lights is suddenly the loudest thing in the world.

And Rodrick’s just staring.

All wide-eyed and stupid. Like your tears, your voice cracking, your fists clenched so tight your nail beds ache — none of it even registered until just now. You like-liked him?.

He blinks once. Then again.

“Oh... shit.”

And you laugh. One sharp, dry breath out of your nose. Bitter.

That’s all he has to say?

It’s so him you want to hit something. Want to scream in his face again. Instead, you just shove past him, shoulder catching his collarbone, movement so fluid it could almost look staged — like you’ve had practice pushing through the people who disappoint you.

“Forget it,” you mutter, voice low, throat still thick. “Forget I said anything.”

He doesn’t stop you.

Of course he doesn’t.

You stomp barefoot down the hallway, a mess of half-dried limbs and smeared lip gloss, towel clutched tight to your chest, your hair twisted into some uneven, makeshift updo like muscle memory — like you’re too used to holding yourself together after falling apart. You disappear down the stairs again. Back into the party. Back into the noise.

Rodrick watches the door frame long after you're gone. Still dripping. Still dumb. Still trying to figure out how the hell he got here.

And the worst part? Somewhere deep down, even he knows it’s not all on you.

You could’ve said something sooner — sure. But he could’ve seen it sooner too. Seen the way Heather weaponised him for fun, the way you looked at him when no one else did. All those times you snuck over, pretending it was just coincidence — the bandaids, the icepacks, the split-lip awkward jokes. The way your hand would shake a little when it brushed his. The way he pretended not to notice because it was easier to chase someone who never wanted him than to sit in the possibility of being wanted back.

You were both cowards.

And now you're both wrecked.

The music downstairs surges again — someone’s turned up the bass. Someone’s splashing in the pool. Laughter climbs and falls and no one notices the birthday girl’s vanished for good.

Rodrick stands alone in your bathroom, mascara smudges on the sink, towel fallen on the floor.

Somewhere, the music downstairs is picking up again. People laughing. Like nothing happened.

Like the party wasn’t ever about you. Like you didn’t just bleed the truth into a bathroom mirror and leave it there with the boy too stupid to see you, but you were too bitchy to ever let him in.

And all he can do is whisper a useless, too-late, “...shit.”

♡ Please do not modify, steal, plagarise or post on other platforms without asking. Thank you!

Best friends.

That’s what you and Eddie were, and always had been. Growing up as neighbors in Forest Hills, you met when you were 8 and Eddie was 10, after he moved in with his uncle.

To be honest with yourself, you had had a crush on Eddie Munson since the first time you laid eyes on him. A silly childhood crush at first, he was so cute with his curls, short at the time, and it made your heart beat fast whenever you walked to the store together for snacks and he held your hand.

He would play you all kinds of music you’d never heard before, heavy stuff that was totally new to you. You weren’t sure about it at first, but you grew to love it. When he got into D&D, he would talk your ear off about his campaign plans for hours. You didn’t mind. You liked listening to him talk. When he started Hellfire, you were the first member to join. You didn’t know how to play an instrument, but you were Corroded Coffin’s biggest fan.

Eddie was everything to you. He was the first person you went to with any news, the only one you were excited to tell anything and everything to. He took you to see every new slasher movie, bought you your first dice set. He was the first thing you thought about in the morning and the last you thought of at night. At some point, it turned into more than a crush.

At some point, you fell in love.

Eddie was oblivious. He never dated in high school, but that didn’t seem to bother him. You didn’t, either, but it was mostly because you were so preoccupied with loving Eddie. You tried dropping hints, but he never seemed to figure it out. You were too scared to just get it over with and tell him outright.

So, you remained best friends. Just friends.

—

“Are you going to prom this year?” Wayne asked, sipping his beer as he sat relaxed in his recliner. Eddie nursed his own beer, feet up on the coffee table.

“Nah,” Eddie said. “You know that’s…not my thing.”

“You should go at least once,” Wayne said. “Might regret it.”

“I doubt it.”

“I had a great time at my senior prom,” Wayne reminisced, smiling at the memory. “You should give it a shot, Ed. Why don’t you take your little friend from next door?”

Eddie shook his head. “I don’t feel that way about her.”

“You can go as friends,” he pointed out. “I’m sure she’d like that. Girl adores you.”

“I’m pretty sure she has a crush on me,” Eddie winced, sipping his beer. “I don’t want to give her the wrong idea.”

“You don’t have to marry her, Ed. Just show her a good time. You two have been so close for so long, I’m sure she would understand.”

Eddie thought about it. He didn’t want to go to prom, like at all, but he wanted to make his uncle happy. And if he had to go with someone, it might as well be you, his only female friend, right?

So, he approached you at your locker the next day at school. “Hey.”

You turned to him, your face immediately lighting up with a huge smile. “Hey, Eds.”

“I, uh,” Eddie looked around awkwardly. “I just wanted to ask if you’d want to go to…prom with me?”

Your eyes went wide, but inside your heart was thundering out of your chest. Had Eddie really just asked you out? “Prom? Really? I thought you hated prom?”

“Yeah, well,” Eddie rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s my last senior year. Hopefully, at least. I figured I might as well give it a shot. We can pre game and sneak in some alcohol. And if it’s lame, we can ditch.”

You couldn’t wipe the huge smile off your face. You were almost a little concerned at how hard your heart was beating in that moment, like it would give out. “I’d love to go with you.”

Eddie gave you a soft smile. “Cool. I’ll pick you up at 6 that night.”

You watched as Eddie left, heading in the direction of his next class of the day. You waited until he was out of sight before you went sprinting in the direction of Robin’s locker.

You found her there, taking her books out. She startled when you ran up on her, placing her hand over her chest. “Jesus. What’s up with you?”

“Eddie just asked me to prom,” you blurted out. Robin’s jaw dropped open.

“No way!” She exclaimed, her look of shock turning to one of pure excitement. “This is huge. I always knew he was into you.”

You blushed. “I don’t know. I had given up hope of him liking me back. This was so out of the blue. I didn’t even think he wanted to go to prom at all.”

“Maybe he’s just better at hiding his feelings,” Robin offered. “Either way, we’re going dress shopping. Prom is only two weeks away!”

That weekend, Robin convinced her mom to drive the two of you to Indianapolis to go shopping in the big city. You were both giddy with excitement - Robin wasn’t much of a dress girl, and she didn’t have a date. The only person she wanted to take, she couldn’t ask. You were pretty sure Vickie was into girls and Robin in particular, but Robin was still too scared to make the move. You didn’t blame her. It wasn’t like typical rejection if things went wrong. So, instead, Robin was going with a group of girls from the marching band as friends.

Her mom took you to the huge mall, which was much more impressive than Starcourt. It was huge, with a ton of different stores. You made a stop at Camelot Music first, where Robin got a new Blondie tape and you grabbed the new The Smiths record and a Metallica Master of Puppets tape for Eddie, since his had recently broken.

Next was the formal wear store. You were both immediately overwhelmed when you walked in, the racks and racks of fancy dresses as far as the eye could see. All different colors, lengths, and styles. It was…a lot.

“Well…I guess let’s get started,” Robin said, her voice unsure.

You probably tried on 50 dresses each. You and Robin giggled as you tried on the dresses her mom picked for you, big floofy pink and blue monstrosities.

“You look like a marshmallow. Like a big pink marshmallow,” Robin had commented.

“Yeah?” You laughed, gesturing towards her powder blue gown. “Well, you look like a wedding cake.”

An hour and a half into dress shopping, you were both getting tired and totally over it. You had the last gown you’d picked out in your hand, and you told yourself if you hated this one, too, you’d just say fuck it and go to prom in your ripped jeans.

You pulled the dress over your head, smoothing it down your body. When you turned and looked into the mirror, you gasped. You actually looked…beautiful.

The dark purple dress hugged your curves, pushing your breasts up and making them look much sexier (and perkier) than they really were. The skirt fell above your knees, showing off your legs. You did a little twirl, the skirt swishing around your thighs. You loved it, it was by far the best one you’d tried on.

“Are you alive in there?” Robin called from outside the dressing room, and you smiled to yourself.

“I think we have a winner,” you called back.

“Ooh!” Robin said just as you moved the curtain and walked out. You saw Robin standing in a dark blue dress that looked beautiful on her, the skirt long but flattering.

“Oh my god,” she said. “You look stunning! Eddie is going to lose his mind.”

You blushed at the mention of Eddie. “You do too!” And she did. Finally, you had both found something.

After you left the dress shop with your bags in hand, you were both feeling much happier. You made a stop at Afterthoughts, where you found some earrings and a necklace to match your dress.

You couldn’t believe you were going to prom, and with Eddie. It was a dream come true.

You couldn’t wait.

—

Prom night, you were shaking as you got ready. The dress was just as beautiful as you remembered. The jewelry you had picked out matched your dress even better than you’d hoped.

Eddie picked you up right on time. He smiled at you awkwardly when he picked you up, holding a corsage in his hand. “Hey.”

You beamed at him. “Hi. Is…that for me?”

“Oh, yeah.” He looked at it like he had forgotten he had it. “You look pretty,” he told you as he slipped the corsage onto your wrist. You blushed as you pinned the boutonnière to his black suit jacket.

“You look handsome yourself,” you told him shyly.

Eddie drove the two of you to the school. The parking lot was packed with students’ cars and even a few rented limousines. Just as you were about to get out of the van, Eddie stopped you. He reached into his glove compartment and pulled out two black flasks, handing one to you.

“This should make this night a lot more fun, yeah?” He smirked. You smiled back, before making a face as you took a sip of the burning liquid. Eddie laughed, which made you start giggling, too.

You took a photo together at the booth near the gym doors, which Eddie wasn’t super excited about. The next thing he did was head for the food, piling a tiny plate full of appetizers. You followed him, grabbing a cup of punch to help wash down the liquor in your purse.

Eddie wouldn’t dance with you until after he’d finished his flask, claiming it was stupid and he wouldn’t be caught dead dancing at prom. But by the time he finished it, he had enough of a buzz that he didn’t care. You were tipsy, too, and absolutely elated when he stood and took your hand, leading you to the floor just as a slow song came on.

Eddie playfully groaned, rolling his eyes, but he pulled you close to his body anyway. Butterflies took flight in your stomach as he placed his hands on your hips and you wrapped yours around his neck. The two of you swayed together in time to the music. You could not stop smiling. You laid your head on Eddie’s chest, tuning out the music as you listened to his heartbeat.

After prom, you headed back to the van. You’d had the best night of your life, one you would never forget. Yeah, you were both a little bit intoxicated, but you were floating on the clouds for a whole different reason.

“D’you want to come back to my place?” Eddie asked as he started the engine. “We could drink a little more, smoke a joint. Wayne’s working.”

You wanted nothing more. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

At the trailer, Eddie rolled up a thick joint as you gathered the bottles of liquor and shot glasses from the cabinet. Eddie was back in normal clothes, and you’d changed into one of Eddie’s shirts and a pair of his sweatpants that were too big on you.

Eddie sparked up the joint as you poured each of you two shots of tequila. You clinked your glasses together before downing them both. Eddie took the first drag on the joint, his eyes falling closed as he inhaled the thick smoke. He looked gorgeous like this, curls still tamed and framing his face. The smoke escaped through his perfect lips, trailing up and throughout the bedroom. He handed the joint to you, and you gratefully took it, bringing it to your painted lips. Some of your lipstick had rubbed off on the shot glasses, leaving a stain.

As the night went on, the two of you got progressively more drunk and high. By the time it was 2am, the two of you were giggling messes, listening to music over the stereo and talking about the latest campaign. Suddenly, in your drunkenly stoned haze, you remembered the gift stashed in your purse.

“Oh!” You exclaimed, jumping up to grab your small bag. “I forgot. I got you something.”

“You got me something?” Eddie asked, confused, his words slightly slurring together.

You reached into the purse and pulled out the bag from Camelot. You hoped he loved it, because now that it was in your hands, you were suddenly nervous. You turned, smiling softly as you handed Eddie the bag. “I just saw it while I was at the mall with Robin and I thought of you.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows at you as he took the bag. He reached inside and pulled out the Metallica tape, a huge grin spreading across his face immediately. “Shit! You didn’t have to do this. But it’s fuckin’ awesome you did.”

You giggled, flopping back onto the bed next to him. You laid with your head on his pillow, smiling up at Eddie from where he sat next to you. “I’m glad you like it. I know yours broke. Probably because you play it all the time.”

Eddie poked you in the side, making you laugh harder. “Shut up, Freak. You love Master of Puppets just as much as I do.”

“That’s true,” you conceded. You looked up at him, his chocolate brown eyes gazing down at you. They sparkled, like his personality was shining its way through. He had a strong nose, kissable lips. God, you wanted to kiss those lips.

Eddie had never realized how pretty you were. He always just saw you as his long time best friend, the girl who definitely crushed on him but he never saw that way. He still didn’t think he had feelings for you, but…you were pretty.

“Have you ever kissed a guy before?” He asked, pushing a section of hair off your shoulder.

You blushed at the question. You didn’t have much experience, your love life was nonexistent. But you had kissed someone, at least. “Yeah. Tommy Hagan in 7th grade.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide. “Tommy Hagan? That dickhead? You never told me that.”

You shrugged, your cheeks red and hot. “It didn’t mean anything. I got invited to Heather Holloway’s birthday party and he was there. We all played spin the bottle. It only lasted two seconds and we never really talked again.” Eddie hummed. “What about you?”

It was Eddie’s turn to look sheepish. “Uh, yeah. A girl at school, Chrissy, in 8th grade. We didn’t date or anything.”

Now it was your turn to be shocked. “Chrissy Cunningham? You didn’t tell me that, either!” He had never mentioned her. You knew it was stupid, but you were struck with jealousy at his words.

“It was nothing,” he said, brushing it off.

“Look at us,” you laughed. “18 and almost 20, and we’re still a couple of virgins.”

Eddie looked down at you, something unfamiliar swimming behind his eyes. He had never wanted to kiss you before this moment, but now... “I mean, we can change that.”

Your heart stopped in your chest. “What do you mean?”

Eddie thought about it for a moment. This could be a point of no return, a step in a direction he didn’t want to take. But in his drunk and high mind…he wanted it. He wanted you.

He leaned forward slowly, so slowly. Your breath hitched in your throat right before his lips pressed against yours. They were just as soft as you always dreamed they were, and your mind went even more hazy from his kisses.

Neither of you were experienced at all and you were both pretty intoxicated, so the kiss was a little awkward and desperate. All tongues and teeth clashing together, hungry for one another. Eddie’s hand slid beneath your t-shirt - his Hellfire shirt - trailing up your smooth skin until he reached your breasts. You hadn’t worn a bra with your dress, so you were bare chested beneath the thin shirt. His calloused fingers delicately grazed your nipples, making you shiver. You’d never been touched there before, never felt anything like this. Being touched by Eddie was so much different than being touched by your own hand.

“I love your tits,” Eddie mumbled against your lips between kisses. You hummed, arching your back into his touch.

“Feels good, Ed,” you moaned quietly, body turning into pure electricity under his wandering touch. Your own hand tangled in the curls at the back of his neck, loving the way your bodies molded together, the feeling of his body finally pressed up against your own.

“Yeah?” He squeezed your breast one more time before his hand moved to your back, sliding down your body until he grabbed your ass, pulling you into him. You gasped, feeling how hard he was through his own sweatpants. “You feel how hard I am?”

“Yeah,” you whispered back. You moved your hand to his chest, sliding it down his body until you reached the tent in his pants. He groaned as you felt him, squeezing his cock through the material.

Eddie sat up, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it somewhere on the floor. You eyed his bare chest, the tattoos adorning his pale skin. You traced a finger over the design on the left side of his chest. God, he was so hot.

His hands slid up your shirt, pulling it up and off. His gaze dropped straight to your tits, he was practically drooling. He reached for the waistband of your sweatpants next, pulling them down your body slowly, leaving you in nothing but your panties. You were grateful you picked something pretty, red and lace.

“So sexy,” Eddie moaned. He leaned forward and kissed your stomach, which startled you a little. He trailed kisses up your body until he reached your breasts, where he ran his tongue over one of your nipples before wrapping his lips around it. You moaned as you arched into his touch, his mouth, whatever he would give you.

His hand slid down your body slowly, slowly, until it reached your panties. He slipped beneath them, fingers dipping between your folds. He could feel how insanely wet you were, and it only made his cock harder.

“So wet for me,” he said. “Bet you can’t wait for my cock.”

You whimpered as he pressed a finger against your entrance. Slowly, carefully he pushed it inside, stretching you for the first time. You gasped at the intrusion, but the pain faded quickly. Eddie slowly pumped his long finger in and out of your pussy, pressing against something deep inside that felt incredible as he curled his finger against it. He added a second finger shortly after, and the stretch was more intense, but from the feeling of the size of his cock in your hand, you knew it wouldn’t even be comparable.

Eddie fingered you a little longer, getting you nice and wet and ready for him, before he removed his hand and slipped your panties off. Now bare before him, he drank you in with his hungry eyes. His cock twitched in his pants.

You helped him push them down his hips, and he kicked them off onto the floor. He didn’t have boxers on underneath, and his dick was so much more impressive once fully revealed. It was big enough that it made you feel scared even through your mind haze.

“You can take it,” he assured you, his words still slightly slurred. “I know you can.”

He reached over you into the bedside table and pulled out an unopened box of condoms. “Finally get to use these,” he laughed, taking one out of the box and ripping it open. You watched as he slid the rubber over his hard cock, tip red and glistening. You wished you could have had a taste.

Eddie got in between your legs, kissing all over your neck before meeting your lips again. His tongue pressed into your mouth immediately, attempting to distract you from the pain where he was lining himself up and slowly beginning to push inside.

You whined as he began to fill you, inch by thick inch. When he was fully seated inside he pulled back and snapped his hips back into you, making you gasp. He set a quick pace, desperately rutting into you as he chased his pleasure, his drunken rhythm sloppy and uneven.

You held onto him tightly as he fucked into you, and he groaned into your neck where he had his face buried. “Feels so good,” he moaned, not exactly caring how you felt, only worried about his own quickly impending orgasm. It was his first time and he was not going to last.

“Eddie,” you whined, “you’re so big.”

He groaned at that. “Yeah, baby? You like it?”

“Mmhmm,” you moaned, and it did feel good, but he was also splitting you in half.

“Fuck,” he hissed, “I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna fucking cum.”

He pumped into you just a couple more times before he was stilling, buried to the hilt inside you as he filled the condom. He moaned loudly, body trembling on top of you as he rode out his orgasm. You didn’t get to cum, but you were too drunk to care.

Eddie pulled out, removing the condom and tying it off before tossing it into the trash can. He collapsed onto the bed next to you, his naked body sweaty, chest heaving.

“That was…good,” you said, not knowing if it was or not. You were happy to have lost your virginity to Eddie, and the whole night had been a dream. But he hadn’t exactly cared about your pleasure. You waited for Eddie to reply, to say anything, but nothing came.

He was already snoring.

—

The unbearably bright light shining through the window around his curtains is the first thing Eddie experienced the next morning. It woke him up, but he only squeezed his eyes shut tighter, groaning as the light made his pounding headache infinitely worse. Fuck, he drank way too much last night.

He barely even remembered it. He remembered the prom, he remembered drinking a lot, doing shots, and smoking a joint. He remembered you, but his memory was hazy. How did you get home anyway? He didn’t remember driving you home after prom.

Eddie stretched, his muscles stiff. He was naked beneath his blanket, which wasn’t entirely unusual. He probably just didn’t feel like changing once he got his suit off.

Eventually he figured he should get out of bed. He rolled over and stood with another old man groan. Fuck, he had to cut back on the drinking, because he definitely felt a lot older than 19 right now.

He pulled on some boxers and a pair of sweatpants he found on the floor, remaining shirtless. Wayne would be passed out in his own bedroom after a long night of work at the plant. But Eddie was starving, and he needed something for that headache.

When he stepped out of the room, the first thing he noticed was the smell. Something delicious was wafting from the kitchen, the smell of bacon overpowering some other food scents. That was weird. Wayne didn’t cook breakfast, not the morning after a work night. He walked down the hall cautiously, brows furrowed as he neared the end of the hallway. He turned the corner, and froze.

You were there in the kitchen, expertly flipping a pancake in a pan. A plate sat on the counter next to you filled with bacon, and another pan on the next burner was cooking scrambled eggs. Oh, and you were dressed in nothing but Eddie’s oversized t-shirt and your underwear.

Oh shit, Eddie thought. What the fuck did I do?

The floor creaked as he stepped into the kitchen, and you turned around, a smile spreading across your lips at the sight of him. “Hey, sleepyhead. I made us some breakfast. Thought you could use something on your stomach.”

Eddie didn’t know what to say or do. Did he sleep with you? Oh god. He was going to be sick. “Uh, good morning. You, uh, didn’t have to do all this.”

He watched as you plated the finished pancakes and eggs. “I thought we could both use a big breakfast after last night,” you said, giving him a smirk. Oh, shit. He did sleep with you last night. He drunkenly lost his virginity after prom, to you.

Fuck. He was a fucking idiot.

You started making plates for the both of you. “I set out a water bottle and some Tylenol for you over there,” you said, nodding to the corner of the counter. Eddie took the medicine immediately, desperate for some relief from his unbearable headache. Now he wasn’t sure what was making it worse, the hangover or the knowledge of what he’d done.

He sat down across from you at the small table. He didn’t know what to say. Your friendship would never be the same after this. He knew you liked him, he didn’t like you, then he slept with you. Now he had to crush your heart. He really felt like he was going to be sick.

“Did you sleep okay?” You finally asked as the two of you ate, breaking the silence.

“Huh?” Eddie snapped back to reality. “Oh. Yeah.”

You smiled softly at him. You figured he was just still cloudy from the weed. “I had a good time last night.”

“Yeah…” Eddie said. “Me too.”

Your face lit up at that, and he could have slapped himself. He didn’t mean that. He didn’t even remember the sex. He was not doing a good job of not leading you on. “Listen,” he said, “about that-“

“It was really good,” you said. Eddie’s watched as your cheeks turned red and you looked down at your plate. “Sorry. I just meant…I enjoyed it. Being with you.”

Eddie had suspected, known even, that you had a crush on him, but this was the first time you’d ever admitted it out loud. Eddie was really going to have to stomp on your heart to put an end to those thoughts, and it was all his fault. He never should have brought you home after prom. “Look, I-“

“I didn’t think you liked me back,” you continued, rambling nervously, excitedly. “I…to be honest with you I’ve had a crush on you for years, but I was always too scared to tell you. But you never seemed like you were into me…until last night.” You giggled, covering your mouth. “I can’t believe we’re together now.”

Together?

Oh, fuck. He couldn’t do this. He could not do this. He couldn’t crush your spirit, wipe that elated smile off your face. He’d never seen you look so happy. He felt like the biggest asshole.

“Oh, yeah,” he said instead. “Um, me either.”

“I can’t wait to tell Robin,” you continued. “She’s going to freak.”

—

Eddie couldn’t believe he had gotten himself into this situation.

Sure, you were his best friend so he liked your personality, and it’s not like you weren’t cute, but he just didn’t have feelings for you in the way you did for him. But now he had slept with you and you thought he liked you back. He had somehow, some way, become your actual boyfriend.

“I thought you didn’t like her like that?” Gareth asked the next school day after prom at lunch. You were sitting with Robin today. You often bounced between the marching band table and the Hellfire table.

“I don’t,” Eddie said simply.

Gareth, Jeff, and Grant looked at him like he was crazy. “Then how…why…?”

Eddie slammed his hand on the table. “Stop grilling me, okay?”

“Someone’s cranky,” Jeff muttered, turning back to his lunch tray in front of him.

“Yeah, you’re in a pretty shitty mood to be the only one of us to lose his virginity and get a girlfriend,” Grant commented. Gareth and Jeff agreed, nodding along.

“Yeah, well,” Eddie muttered. “Would be nice if it was with someone I’m actually into.”

“Harsh,” Gareth tsked. “You should be honest with her. You’re just leading her on.”

“I can’t.” Eddie buried his face in his hands, exasperated and stressed. “It’s gone too far. She thinks I’m her boyfriend. She thinks I like her back. I can’t crush her like that.”

The other three boys exchanged a look. “So…you’re just gonna marry her?” Grant asked.

Eddie froze. That is where this would eventually lead if he didn’t turn it around. But he was scared. He couldn’t bring himself to burst your bubble. “I’ll figure something out.”

As lunch was ending, Eddie jolted when you came up behind him, wrapping your arms around his neck and giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Hey, babe,” you giggled. “How was lunch?”

“Good,” Eddie said, giving each Hellfire boy a look that said don’t say or do a damn thing.

“You guys are so cute,” Robin said, holding her hands over her chest as she tilted her head to the side with a smile. “I’m so happy you’re finally together.”

Eddie felt sick. Just like he had all weekend, since the morning after prom. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m a lucky guy.”

Your whole face lit up with a smile. “I was thinking maybe we could hang out after school. Do our homework and work on the Curse of Vecna.”

Eddie groaned internally. This was such a disaster. “Sure.”

That day after school Eddie drove you back to his place. He reluctantly did his homework with you, mostly copying your answers rather than actually learning anything. Then the two of you laid on his bed and made out.

Hey, if he was going to be stuck in this relationship with someone he didn’t actually care for, the least he could do was take advantage of the benefits.

—

You spent four years with Eddie before you started noticing something was off.

It was the scent you started noticing on his clothes at first, like flowers and vanilla. You lifted his shirt from the laundry, the unexpected smell hitting you. You didn’t own anything that smelled like this, and Eddie certainly didn’t. You knew the smell of his cheap cologne better than anything, the amount of times you’d laid your head on his chest and smelled that distinctly Eddie scent. Something was wrong.

When you confronted him about it, he brushed it off. “It’s this new girl at work. Her perfume is so strong, everyone smells like it.”

You accepted the answer for the time being. But then there were other things you began to notice. A scrunchie that definitely didn’t belong to you on the floor of the passenger side of his van. A condom wrapper in the bathroom trash after you’d been out of town for the weekend. And finally, a pair of pink panties stuffed into the back pocket of his jeans that were so clearly not yours it was nearly comical if it hadn’t made you want to die.

When you confronted him about it the next time, it was with tears in your eyes and a lump in your throat. “Eddie,” you said, your voice cracking as you tossed the panties onto the floor in front of where he sat on the couch. “What are these?”

Eddie knew he had been caught. There was no getting out of it this time. You didn’t own any underwear like that, and it was the wrong size. How could he have been so stupid to have kept the panties? “I…”

“Really?” You sobbed. “You have nothing to say?”

“I’m not sure what you want me to say.” Eddie looked down at his hands. “Yeah, I’ve been sleeping with someone else.”

Even though you already knew his words were true, they still hit you right in the heart. You could feel it cracking, could feel the fault lines forming, the blood and life seeping out of it. “With who?” You asked, barely audible. You weren’t sure if you wanted the answer, but you needed it.

“That’s not important-“

“It is important,” you said. “It’s important to me.”

Eddie didn’t respond at first. He didn’t want to respond. “Chrissy Cunningham,” he answered reluctantly at last. “But don’t pull her into this, she doesn’t deserve to be-“

“Chrissy Cunningham?” You scoffed. “Eddie, we’ve been together for four years. Chrissy knows we’re together. So she was just fine sleeping with a guy she knew was taken?” You laughed humorlessly through the tears. “Wow. You guys are perfect for each other, then.”

Eddie shook his head. “Don’t do that, man, she-“

“‘Man’?” You couldn’t believe the conversation you were having. “Wow, I sure got demoted from baby fast, huh?”

He rubbed his hands over his face. “Please. I don’t wanna do this. I don’t feel like doing this.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have cheated!” You yelled back. “Why would you do this? How could you do this to me? I thought you loved me.”

Eddie mumbled something under his breath, something you couldn’t catch.

“What?” You asked. “I can’t hear you. Just fucking tell me. Why would you do this to me?”

When Eddie looked up at you, his eyes were full of anger, flames flickering behind his normally sweet doe eyes. The ones you had gazed into, taken comfort in so many times. When he opened his mouth, nothing but poison seeped out.

“Because I never loved you!” Eddie yelled, hands running through his hair to the point he was practically pulling it out. You had never seen him so upset. “Fuck! I went out with you because we were friends and I felt bad, and by the time we’d been together for months it was too late. I never liked you back like that. That’s the truth, finally.”

His words hit you like a shot to the chest. You stared at him with your lips parted, staggering gasps being dragged into your lungs. You shook uncontrollably as if it were suddenly freezing. But the tears didn’t yet fall. You felt like you might be in shock. “How…”

“How did I pretend to be in love with you?” He scoffed. “I didn’t do a very good job of it, but it doesn’t seem like you ever noticed. You were so blinded by who you wanted me to be, you couldn’t see what was right in front of you. Hey, as long as I came home and fucked you before passing out next to you, you just took it.” He laughed, a cruel, sinister laugh. “You just let me treat you like shit. Like you have no respect for yourself, or were just that obsessed with me.”

You didn’t even know who this was in front of you right now. This person who looked like Eddie, sounded like Eddie, but was spewing such horrible, hurtful words that Eddie never would. You didn’t recognize him at all. You wanted to blame his words on his heightened emotions, but you could tell everything he said was true. Especially with the cheating to back it up.

That’s not how you treated someone you cared about.

“So you just led me on for four years instead of telling me?” You asked. There was no fight behind your voice like there was in his. Only hurt and defeat. “Eddie…even before all this, you were my best friend. How could you do this to me?”

He didn’t have an answer for that. Because he was a selfish idiot coward? That was the truth. “Look, me and Chrissy- it just happened. It wasn’t supposed to, but it did. She came in to the Hideout, we got to talking-“

“And you fucked her?” You finished for him.

He just looked at you. “Yeah.”

The truth was, Eddie felt bad. He knew he had fucked up astronomically bad. He had led you on, used your body, betrayed you. Wasted four years of your life. He knew you thought he was the one, he knew you were waiting for a proposal that was never going to come. It was his fault things had gotten this far.

Maybe he thought he could fake it ‘til he made it. Maybe he thought if he pretended to be into you, eventually he would be. But that never happened.

And now you were crying, hard. His chest ached for some reason, even though he had no right to hurt for what he had done to you. He deserved to feel like shit.

He wasn’t prepared for the next words that came out of your mouth.

“I’m pregnant, Eddie,” you said, eyes squeezed shut as if that would stop the torrent of tears currently streaming down your face. There was no response. You had to force yourself to open your eyes and look, wondering if he was even still there.

He was. He stared at you, brown eyes wide, mouth hanging slightly open. “You’re- no.”

“I am,” you said, voice hoarse from crying. “I…”

Eddie shook his head. “No. No, no, no. This is not happening. It’s not fucking happening.”

You only cried harder. The pregnancy hormones had nothing to do with this; this was pure devastation, pure heartbreak. Your heart felt like it had crumbled in your chest and there was nothing left to repair even if you could.

“Let me see the test,” he said, holding a hand out.

“Why would I lie?” You asked, voice weak. You were so emotionally worn out, you felt like you could sleep for weeks. Months. Years. You wanted to.

“Because you want me to stay with you?” He scoffed. “Look, I’m not saying you’re lying, but I want to see to be sure.”

You just stared at him. Finally, you said “Fine,” going into your shared bedroom and coming out with a piece of paper with your office visit report. “I went to the doctor. Here.”

Eddie took the paper from your hands, examining it carefully. Sure enough, under “Reason for Visit/Diagnosis”, it said “Pregnancy - 8 weeks”.

“Christ,” Eddie said. He rubbed his hands over his face, like he was trying to erase the information from his brain. He was panicked. He couldn’t be a dad. Not right now, maybe not ever. He didn’t even know if he wanted kids. And with you? His soon to be ex girlfriend who he had treated like shit and didn’t love? “I mean fuck, man. What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know,” you said. Your voice was small, like all the fight had left you.

Eddie felt like he had ruined his life. For one thing, you were both still so young. That was without even mentioning the mess of a ‘relationship’ he had gotten himself involved in, the fact that it would never work out even if he wanted it to because he didn’t have feelings for you, and now he was standing here crushing his pregnant girlfriend’s heart. Like an asshole.

He was an asshole, and he knew it.

“Look,” he said finally. “If there’s really a kid-“

“There is.”

Eddie continued. “I’m not gonna abandon it. I’ll…be here. I’ll pay child support, I want to share custody, I want to be involved.”

You nodded. At least there was that, you supposed. As heart broken as you were, as much as you felt like going to sleep and never waking up again, you couldn’t bear the thought of Eddie leaving both of you. This baby deserved better.

“Look, I…I need some time. I’m gonna go stay with Wayne for a little while. Until I can get my own place.” Eddie looked at you with pity now, the news of the pregnancy dousing the fire of his earlier cruelty. “You can keep the apartment. We’ve got the guest room for the baby, unless you decide to move out.”

You just nodded again. “Okay, Eddie.”

The two of you looked at each other. This wasn’t just the end of your apparent farce of a relationship, but also of your nearly lifelong friendship. Things between you and Eddie would never be the same again. He had taken your heart you gave to him and stomped on it, spit on it.

That was the thing you couldn’t get past. He hadn’t just rejected you, he had destroyed you. The cheating, the lying. Playing you like a fucking game. Like you meant nothing not just to him, but at all. You didn’t know how you’d ever learn to trust again, or if you even wanted to. Eddie slept on the couch that night, too late at night to drive to Wayne’s.

When you woke up the next morning, he was gone.

—

Your pregnancy was difficult. You had severe morning sickness in the beginning - hyperemesis gravidarum, your doctor called it. You struggled to keep any food down, and ended up hospitalized for fluids multiple times. Your doctor was concerned and considered you a high risk pregnancy. You went from monthly doctor visits to weekly. You felt pretty sure your emotional devastation wasn’t helping your physical health whatsoever.

Eddie was helpful, at least. He called you every couple of days to see how you were doing and if you needed anything. He remembered your appointment days and called to ask what the doctor said. He shopped for your groceries for you and dropped them off at the house. It would have felt nice, if you didn’t know he was only doing it for the baby and not you, and if you didn’t know he was still sleeping with Chrissy.

You went through most of the pregnancy alone. At 16 weeks, you noticed a bump for the first time, standing in front of your full length mirror as you got ready for work. It took you by surprise, this little baby bump that seemed to have popped up overnight. You ran your hand over the skin there, surprised by how firm it felt. There was really a little baby in there.

You had an ultrasound that afternoon. You were thrilled to see the baby, one of the only things you looked forward to anymore. The technician showed you your baby, thriving and wiggling around in there. It made your heart swell. She measured the heartbeat and played it out loud, the little whoosh whoosh whoosh comforting.

Eddie came to the apartment that evening to bring you the baby swing he had bought. You were in the kitchen cooking yourself chicken alfredo for dinner, wearing a thin tank top and your short sleep shorts. Eddie let himself in, since he still had a key in case of emergencies. You weren’t surprised to hear him coming in since he’d told you he’d be over.

You heard his footsteps heading into the kitchen, then - “Woah.”

You turned from where you’d been stirring the sauce, raising an eyebrow at him. “What?”

He gestured towards your stomach. “You, uh…your…”

You laughed lightly. “The bump? Yeah, that’s new.”

Eddie walked over towards you, leaning against the counter next to the stove. He didn’t know how to feel about it. It was strange to see, and it made him feel weird in his chest. Something he’d never felt before. “It’s…it’s cute. You look cute.”

You laughed again. “I’m about to get a lot bigger.”

The two of you stood in silence for a minute. Then, finally, Eddie worked up the courage to ask - “Can I…can I feel?”

You were surprised by the question. Sure, Eddie had been pretty devoted to this baby during the pregnancy, but it still caught you off guard. “Oh. Sure.”

You turned and he walked up to you cautiously. He raised his hands, slowly moving them towards you as he looked up at you for confirmation it was still okay. Finally he placed his hands on your belly, feeling the firm bump beneath his hands. It was real. He knew it was real, but now it was real.

“Wow,” he said after a minute. “That’s…wow.” He gently rubbed the bump, in shock that that was his child beneath his hand.

“I got an ultrasound today,” you said. “Want to see?”

“Of course,” he answered immediately. He watched as you headed into the living room, already developing the slightest little waddle. He couldn’t help but smile.

You pulled the printed photos from your purse, bringing them over. Eddie gently took them from your hands. “Holy shit!” He said, laughing as he closely examined the photos. “It really looks like a little baby now instead of a blob.”

“Yeah,” you agreed with a smile. “They said we’d find out if it’s a boy or a girl at the next one. At 20 weeks.”

Eddie’s eyes darted up to you. “Really? Can I…go?”

You raised your eyebrows. “Really? You want to come with me to the appointment?”

“Yeah, of course. I want to know what we’re having. I want to be there myself.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, thinking about it. “How will Chrissy feel about that?”

Eddie’s expression hardened for the first time since he’d come over. “I can do whatever I want. And we’re not talking about her right now.”

You rolled your eyes, heading back into the kitchen to tend to your dinner. “I guess you can come, Eddie. It’s your baby too. But don’t bring her.”

“I’m not,” he assured you. You thought he’d have to be a fucking idiot to bring her, anyway. “I just want to be there.”

You felt like you couldn’t take that from him. If he wanted to be an involved father, he could. You encouraged that, in fact. This baby didn’t deserve to be born into the mess that was your relationship, or what used to be your relationship. Your issues with Eddie needed to be put aside for the sake of your child.

So, four weeks later, you waddled your 20 week pregnant self down the stairs of your apartment complex and into Eddie’s van where he sat idling, waiting to pick you up. He helped you climb in, and you waved him off when he tried to buckle you up. “I’ve got it, Eddie. I’m not totally helpless.”

“I know,” he said, “I just want to help.”

You rode to the doctor’s office without speaking, the only sounds being the heavy music playing over the stereo. You couldn’t stand it. Since the break up, you couldn’t listen to Eddie’s music anymore. Too many memories, too many associations.

When he pulled up at the office, he hopped out quickly to run around and offer you a hand as you carefully climbed down. The bump was significantly bigger already, it was in the way and threw off your center of balance. And Eddie was not about to let you fall and hurt yourself and the baby.

You had grown to know the staff at the office since you were there so often. They greeted you by name the second you walked in, looking pleased to see you. In the exam room, Eddie sat in the visitor’s chair, looking as awkward as he felt.

When the tech walked in, she barely managed to contain the surprise on her face to see Eddie with you. You had been to every appointment alone, and they knew you weren’t together with the father. But she quickly plastered a smile to her face, walking over to you.

“Are you excited?” She asked you. “It’s a big day!”

“So excited,” you giggled. “I’m ready to know.”

You laid back and lifted your shirt up and she squirted the cold gel onto your belly, your least favorite part. She placed the wand on your stomach and began moving it around. There was a screen only she could see, and a bigger screen facing you and Eddie that showed the baby.

The little wiggling baby popped up on the screen, moving all around. You smiled, relieved to see the little guy or girl was doing well. You always worried between ultrasounds that something would happen.

The two of you watched as the tech examined and measured the various body parts, making notes in your chart as she performed the exam. Then, finally, it was time.

“Okay,” she said. “Everything looks great! Do you want to know what you’re having?”

“Yes,” you and Eddie answered immediately at the same exact time. You glanced at each other, laughing lightly.

You were nervous. You weren’t sure why. You really didn’t have a preference for the baby’s sex, but this was a huge deal. This made it real, really real. The baby was about to go from “the baby” to your son or daughter. They would have a name, you would be able to shop more. This was a huge moment, and your heart thumped hard in your chest.

She moved the wand a little, looking where she needed to look. She smiled - “It’s a healthy baby girl.”

You choked out a light sob, hands moving up to cover your mouth. You couldn’t believe it. A baby girl, a daughter. Your daughter. Thoughts flashed through your mind of pink little dresses, playing dolls, dance recitals and late night dance parties. Or maybe she would be more of a tomboy, playing sports and getting dirty. You would love her no matter who she turned out to be.

Eddie stared at the screen in awe. A daughter. He was having a daughter. He couldn’t believe it. He didn’t have a preference for the gender either, but hearing it was a girl, it just felt right. Like this was the child he was meant to have, this was the perfect outcome. His body overflowed with the love he felt for this tiny person already. He nearly reached over and grabbed your hand, but thought better of it. It wasn’t his hand to hold anymore.

You left the appointment in high spirits with a stack of ultrasound photos in your hand. You kept looking them over, amazed at how much the baby looked like a baby. Just as you were about to get back in the van, you felt something move that made you gasp and nearly drop your bag.

“What??” Eddie asked, immediately by your side. “Are you okay? Is it the baby?”

You looked up at him wide eyed. “I…” You were about to say something else when you felt the movement again. You quickly grabbed Eddie’s hand and placed it on your stomach, right where you felt it.

He looked at you strangely, but kept his hand there. Then, a second later - another kick, right where Eddie’s hand lay.

“Holy shit!” He exclaimed, jerking his hand back out of instinct before putting it back. “Did she just kick?”

“I think so,” you said, an incredulous giggle in your voice.

“She’s strong,” Eddie commented with a smile. He gently rubbed his hand over the bump. “My girl. Gonna be a soccer player or something. Or just kick some serious ass.”

You laughed, your hand resting next to Eddie’s. “This has been the best day I’ve had in months.”

Eddie felt a pang of guilt at that. He knew he was the reason for your sadness, for your pain. And now here you were, giving him the greatest gift he could dream of, even if it’s one he didn’t expect. He couldn’t wait for this baby to be here.

Robin threw you a baby shower when you were 33 weeks pregnant. You were huge and uncomfortable, and still mentally a disaster. But Robin had put in so much work you were at least going to make an attempt to enjoy yourself.

She had taken you shopping for a dress, and you’d landed on a long, light pink one with a hem right beneath your breasts, the rest of the dress draped over your belly. It made you feel pretty, even if gigantic.

When you and Robin walked in, the party was already underway, your friends, family, and acquaintances mingling around, eating from the buffet table. There was a table surrounded and piled high with gifts, a rocking chair with a bow on it sitting next to it.

“Oh my god, Robs,” you said, tears springing to your eyes. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“Of course I did,” she said, nudging your arm. “You deserve it, babes. You and her both.” She placed a hand over your belly, making you smile. “You’ve been put through hell this pregnancy, the least I can do is give you a good party.”

Robin led you over to the buffet table, where Steve Harrington was standing. You furrowed your brows at your best friend as you walked, and she gave you a sheepish smile and shrug.

“He’s different now,” she said. You couldn’t believe your ears. “He’s not King Steve anymore. And he helped me out a ton with this party. He’s kind of a dingus, but he’s cool.”

Steve gave you a kind smile as you approached. “Hey,” he said once you’d both reached him, standing up straight. “Congratulations. You look beautiful.”

You blushed, because you certainly didn’t expect him to say that. “I’m huge,” you said.

Steve chuckled. “Well, you’re growing a whole human. Don’t be too hard on yourself. It’s hard work.”

You were completely shocked that Steve was being so nice to you. He had never been mean to you, but he definitely saw you and Eddie as Freaks in high school, and never gave you or Robin the time of day. He really did seem different.

“Come on,” Robin said, pulling gently on your arm. “Let’s get you and that baby something to eat. It’s gonna be a great party.”

And it was a good party. You were having a good time talking with your guests, everyone wanting to feel the baby and asking you questions. The food was good, too, you thought as you filled your third plate in 30 minutes. You were having a good time.

That is, until the door opened and two guests walked in late.

Eddie walked in, looking awkward, a gift bag in hand. He knew a good number of the people in attendance hated him, and for good reason. The fact that Eddie showed up to your party wasn’t the bad part. You were on okay terms. It was the fact that he walked in, hand in hand with Chrissy Cunningham.

Your heart stopped in your chest. You hated that you still weren’t over Eddie, but it was the truth. You felt like you would throw up at the sight.

“Oh, fuck no,” Robin muttered under her breath from next to you, before she stood tall and started walking over to them with purpose.

“Robs, wait!” You called, following after her, but Robin’s long strides were much faster than your 8 month pregnant waddle. Robin was already there when you reached the three, her finger pointed in Eddie’s face.

“And what do you think gives you the right to come marching into her party with your little girlfriend?” She was yelling, fury in her eyes like you’d never seen. “What the fuck is wrong with you??”

“Robin-“ you started, but she wasn’t even hearing you.

“You are the scum of the fucking earth,” she said to Eddie. “You don’t belong here. You don’t belong outside enjoying the day. You belong in a cave.”

Eddie was looking at her with an irritated expression on his face. Chrissy stood next to him, her big eyes wide as she held onto his arm. It made you feel so much worse.

“This is my daughter’s baby shower,” he said. “I have a right to be here.”

“No, this is her shower.” Robin gestured towards where you stood slightly behind her without even turning around. “This is for her. She has been through hell, and it’s entirely your fault. The only thing you did besides ruin her life is put the damn baby in her. Good job, Eddie!”

Eddie scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Down, guard dog, this has nothing to do with you. Get out of my face. I’m here to celebrate my daughter. Not yours.”

“And you had to bring your skank with you?”

Both you and Chrissy gasped. You had never heard her speak that way before. Eddie’s eyes darkened. “Don’t talk about her like that. She has nothing to do with this.”

“She slept with you multiple times while knowing you were in a relationship. So yeah, she’s a skank, and you’re a slut too. I guess you guys are made for each other.”

“Babe, why don’t we just go-“ Chrissy said softly.

“Babe,” Robin mocked. “How cute.”

“I’m not leaving,” Eddie said, looking from Chrissy to Robin, and finally to you. “I deserve to be here. So get over yourself.”

“I think you should leave, Eddie.”

You turned as you all looked behind you, where Steve had walked up. His expression was serious, and Eddie narrowed his eyes at him.

“This doesn’t concern you, Harrington.”

“Well, it kind of does,” he said, tilting his head to the side. “These are my friends. I helped organize the party. No one would have cared if you wanted to be here, but you had to go and bring your girlfriend to rub in her face?”

Eddie was taken aback. He couldn’t believe Steve Harrington was here and had the nerve to talk to him and his girlfriend this way. He was about to say something rude back when you spoke up.

“It’s okay,” you said, your voice timid. “They can stay.”

Steve and Robin looked at you with concern etched on both of their faces. “Are you sure?” Steve asked quietly. “Robin told me your pregnancy has been complicated. You don’t need any extra stress.”

“It’s okay,” you repeated. You weren’t entirely sure if you were really okay with it, but you didn’t want drama at your baby shower. At least, not any more drama than what had already been caused.

Steve looked at you, giving you any chance to change your mind, but you didn’t say anything else. Steve looked at Eddie and Chrissy. “She says you can stay, you can stay.”

The rest of the party was admittedly very awkward. Eddie kind of felt like shit - he knew he shouldn’t have brought Chrissy here. It was the wrong move. He thought maybe it would be alright, but the second he walked in the door he knew what a mistake it had been.

When it was time for gifts, you felt a little uncomfortable. Even as a child you had never enjoyed the whole “opening gifts in front of the whole guest list” part of parties, but you knew your older relatives would find it rude if you didn’t.

You got a lot of lovely gifts - lots of girly clothes and tiny dresses, bottles, burp cloths, a baby monitor, baby soap and towels, health stuff, toys, all kinds of things. You even got some bigger items, like a high chair, a car seat, and a stroller. You were so grateful you teared up multiple times. As a single mom, you had been worried sick about how you’d afford a lot of this stuff.

When you opened Eddie’s gift, it was just a piece of paper inside the bag. You were confused, until you took the paper out and saw the photo of the crib you had been eyeing on it, and a note that he had ordered it for you. Cue the waterworks.

Chrissy’s gift was probably the ugliest baby clothes you’d ever seen in size 24m and a toy she wouldn’t be able to play with for years. You wanted to throw the gift back in her face. She did that shit on purpose.

The rest of the party went well. You managed to avoid Chrissy, or maybe she was avoiding you. You gave each of your friends and family hugs as they left when the party was over, thanking them for coming and for their gifts.

Eddie gave you a nod as he and Chrissy left. He was always so much more pleasant when he wasn’t with her. You could always tell when she was in his ear, too, because he would start stupid arguments and stress you out. You were tired of Chrissy in your business. You never wanted to see her for the rest of your life.

But that was Eddie’s girlfriend, the girl he actually liked, and Eddie was this baby’s father. So you supposed you’d have to live with her.

At 33 weeks, days after the shower, you noticed horrible swelling in your hands and feet. More than the normal pregnancy swelling. You brought it up at your doctor’s appointment, and she was immediately concerned.

Your blood pressure was through the roof. You were diagnosed with pre eclampsia and told to head straight to the hospital to be admitted.

You cried on the way to the car. This whole pregnancy had been hell, and as excited as you were to meet the baby, you were miserable. And it wasn’t time for her to come yet. You were terrified.

You drove around the corner to the hospital’s main entrance, walking inside and giving the receptionist the paper from your doctor. They had you upstairs and set up in bed in no time, hooked up to monitors and put on strict bed rest.

The first thing you did once you were settled was grab the bedside phone. You dialed Robin’s number first, filling her in through tears. She promised to be over right after work with movies to watch, wanting to make you as comfortable as possible while you had to be in the hospital.

Next, you called Eddie.

“Hello?” He answered, a laugh in his voice, and you could hear Chrissy giggling in the background. It made you feel infinitely worse.

“Eddie. It’s me.” It was obvious in your voice that you’d been crying.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, suddenly serious. “Is it the baby? Is she coming? It’s too early!”

You sniffled. “Not yet. But I have pre eclampsia. They hospitalized me and put me on bed rest until the baby is born.”

“Shit,” Eddie hissed. “Do you, uh…do you need me?”

“Can you run by the apartment and grab my bag I packed?” You asked. “Maybe throw some extra stuff in there since I’m going to be here for a while?”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

The next week in the hospital was a long one. You were bored to death, even with Robin and Steve coming by every day after work and on their days off. They would bring different movies from Family Video every day, and they had bought you a collection of board games to play together.

At 34 weeks, things took a turn for the worse.

Your water broke and labor began far too early. You were in a panic. Robin had been visiting at the time, and next thing you knew, doctors and nurses were rushing in, checking your vitals and fussing over you. The contractions started immediately, coming strong and fast.

“Call Eddie!” You called to a shocked Robin, who froze for only a few seconds before dashing for the phone.

By the time Eddie sprinted through the door, breathless and mercilessly alone, things were well underway. Labor had set in fast, and the baby’s vitals were dropping. They had to get her out as soon as possible.

“We’re going to be taking you back for a C section, okay?” The doctor told you kindly, but you could hear the seriousness of the situation in his tone. “We need to get this baby out right now.”

You had never been more terrified in your life. You could not lose this baby. You didn’t care much about your own well-being, but losing this baby would kill you.

“Can I come?” Eddie asked, his voice shaking. He was equally terrified. This baby, his daughter, meant the world to him already and she wasn’t even here yet. He needed both of you to be okay.

“Yes, you’ll just have to change into a pair of scrubs,” the doctor said. “One of the nurses will bring you some then bring you to the OR. We just need to get her in there and prepped immediately.”

Eddie watched as they wheeled you from the room quickly, disappearing down the hall with an urgency that made him sick to his stomach. Just as he’d been told, a nurse walked up with a pair of surgical scrubs and a hair cap, snapping him out of his internal panic.

He went into the bathroom and changed into the scrubs, pulling his hair up into a bun and putting the cap on. He slipped the shoe covers on last. He felt like he looked ridiculous, but he really didn’t have time to think about that right now.

Inside the operating room, you laid on a table with your arms strapped down out to the side. You also wore a cap over your hair, and a large drape curtained off everything below your chest.

“Hey,” you said, sounding nice and calm and a little out of it. “You came.”

“Of course I came,” Eddie said. He stood next to you as the doctor got to work. He did not want to think about what was going on behind that curtain.

It wasn’t long before the doctor said “Here she is!” and the next thing Eddie knew, he heard a shrill cry. It made his heart stutter in his chest, he lost his breath. Moments later one of the nurses came around with the tiniest baby Eddie had ever seen, wrapped in a hospital blanket. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His child.

You gazed at the tiny bundle in the nurse’s arms. You were so drugged up you couldn’t really comprehend the moment, but you knew that tiny bundle was your daughter. Here at last. And alive, healthy. Pink skin and a head full of brown hair.

“Would you like to hold her?” The nurse asked as the doctor went to work on stitching you up. “We have to get her to the NICU, so only for a moment. I’m sorry.”

The NICU. Eddie didn’t want to think too hard about that. “Yes, I want to hold her.” Eddie held out his arms and the nurse gently placed the tiny baby in them.

She was so small. She felt like glass, like the most fragile thing in the world. He took in every aspect of her appearance, from her hair that matched his, to her tiny button nose, her little pink lips. Her eyes were closed, so he didn’t get to see her eye color.

He moved over to you and held the baby down for you to see. “Here she is,” he whispered to you. “Our baby girl.”

You smiled a loopy smile, but you could feel the love practically bursting out of your chest. “Hi, Lottie,” you said, tears welling in your eyes. “Charlotte Mae.”

Charlotte did great, and had none of the problems common in premature babies. It was a miracle, and you were so grateful.

There was a knock at your door before it opened. Robin walked in, Steve trailing behind her. They both had smiles on their faces and held gift bags. Steve held a bouquet of beautiful flowers. He wore a yellow sweater and jeans, his long hair styled. You couldn’t help but notice how cute he was.

“Hey, mama, how are you feeling?” Robin greeted, coming over and giving you a kiss on the cheek. She looked down at the sleeping baby in your arms. “Hi, Lottie!”

“We’re doing good,” you said, a tired smile on your face. Eddie had been over earlier, but had to leave when Chrissy called the hospital phone, demanding he come home. It had made your chest ache, especially when he obeyed.

“Hey,” Steve said, moving to your other side. He held up the flowers. “I, uh, brought these for you.”

“Had the idea, picked them out, and bought them himself,” Robin said, wiggling her eyebrows.

The way Steve was looking at you did something to you, something felt deep in your chest. “Thank you,” you smiled at him. “They’re beautiful.”

“We also brought you these,” Robin said, placing both gift bags on your lap. One was purple with pink tissue paper, and the other was blue with yellow paper. “Can Auntie Robs hold her now?”

“Of course,” you replied, gently passing the tiny bundle into Robin’s waiting arms. She held the baby like a natural, gently rocking her.

You reached for the purple bag first. You pulled the paper out and found a comfy pair of pajamas for yourself, and a matching set for Charlotte. There was a card inside that read, I’m so proud of you. You’re going to be the best mom ever! Love, Auntie Robs.

You almost teared up, looking at Robin. “Thank you,” you said. “This means so much.”

“Of course,” she smiled. “Now open Steve’s!”

You laughed as you grabbed the blue bag and removed the paper. Inside you found an assortment of candy, and a small teddy bear. A card inside read Motherhood looks beautiful on you. You’re going to rock it. I’m glad we’ve become friends. Love, Steve.

“How did you know I have a sweet tooth?” You asked Steve with a laugh. You couldn’t focus on his note right now unless you really wanted to cry.

“Robin,” he laughed. “She filled me in.”

Robin and Steve visited for as long as they could, taking turns holding Charlotte and helping to take care of both her and you. You were so grateful to have such support, such amazing friends.

Custody was a whole other ordeal. You and Eddie had agreed that he would get Charlotte every other weekend, starting when she was 5 months old and could take a bottle when she was with Eddie since you were breastfeeding.

It worked out, Eddie didn’t argue with you much unless Chrissy started convincing him to, as she sometimes did. He started missing his scheduled weekends, claiming plans with Chrissy. The thing is that Chrissy knew what weekends Eddie had Charlotte, and she would do this on purpose. And he just let her.

It made you so mad. Lottie deserved better than this. She deserved a father who was excited to see her any chance he got. You began to resent Eddie more and more.

It was Saturday night, and Eddie had bailed for the weekend again. He was taking Chrissy to Indianapolis to spend the weekend and go shopping. Honestly, you were in the mood for a good cry.

Not only was Eddie bailing on his visitation, but he was also pushing for more. You didn’t understand it, but you knew who was behind it. Chrissy just liked stirring up shit between you and Eddie. You were convinced she got a kick out of it.

You figured the best way to get a good cry was to go rent a sappy movie. You were sure a good romance would have you sobbing within the hour. You packed Lottie’s diaper bag, strapped her in her car seat, and drove to Family Video.

You smiled when you saw Steve behind the counter through the glass doors. He was on the phone as you walked in, but he gave you a big smile and held up a finger to tell you to hold on a second. You started browsing the movies, seeing what was available.

Steve got off the phone as quickly as possible, rushing over to your side. “Hey, Lottie,” he greeted the baby on your hip, making her giggle and reach for him. You handed her off as Steve happily took her. “So, what brings you in today? Not that I’m not excited to see you.”

You couldn’t help but smile at Steve. “Rough weekend. I need a good cry.”

He frowned. “Why?”

You sighed. “Just Eddie and Chrissy stuff. The usual.”

Steve nodded in understanding, but it pissed him off. He hated the hell Eddie and his girlfriend put you through on a constant basis. He wished he could make it better. “So you need a sad movie?”

“Yeah. Any recommendations?”

He thought for a minute. He browsed the shelves as Lottie played with his name tag. “Hmm…oh!” He reached forward and plucked a VHS off the shelf. “This one will get you for sure.”

You took it from his hands. “Steel Magnolias. I haven’t seen it.”

“Oh, it’ll definitely make you cry,” Steve laughed as you examined the tape, reading the back synopsis.

“Do you know that because it made you cry?” You teased, a playful smile on your lips as you looked at him again.

Steve blushed bright red. “Maybe.”

You laughed, poking him in the side. “Who knew you were such a sap, Steve Harrington.”

“Hey,” he said, holding up his free hand in surrender. “Chicks dig a guy who’s in tune with his emotions.”

“Is that so?”

“It is so,” Steve confirmed with a grin. You could never wipe the smile off your face when Steve was around. He was just so fun, and kind, and funny. He was a great friend, and cute, too, if you let yourself admit it.

You exchanged the tape for Lottie then followed Steve back to the counter where he checked you out. “Just one movie tonight?”

“Yeah. I pass out too early now to watch more than one.”

Steve chuckled as he scanned the tape and pulled up your account. He clicked on his computer for a few seconds before a receipt began to print. “Alright, you’re all set.”

“Thanks,” you smiled as you took the tape and receipt from him. “I’ll see you around, Steve!” You turned and began walking to the front door, ready to get home, get Lottie comfy in bed, then watch your movie.

“Hey,” Steve said, stopping you. You turned around, confused.

“What’s up?”

“Um…” Steve cleared his throat. “Would you…want to go out sometime?” His voice was nervous, like you’d never heard it before.

His words caught you off guard. You raised your eyebrows, switching the baby to the other arm. “What?”

“Go out? Like, on a date?”

You blinked at him. “You want to go on a date…with me?”

“Yeah,” he smiled nervously at you. “I’ve…been wanting to ask you out for a while. But you just had so much going on, I didn’t want to add more stress to your plate…”

“Steve, you could never do anything but make my life better. I love spending time with you.”

He beamed at that. “Yeah? Well…would you want to go on a date with me?”

“Sure,” you smiled. “I would love that.”

You finished packing up Charlotte’s bag, making sure it was stocked with plenty of clothes and her favorite toys, including the teddy bear Steve had given her, which was her absolute favorite. Eddie had plenty of diapers and wipes at his house so you didn’t have to worry about that.

You had your date with Steve tonight. He was going to be picking you up shortly after Lottie left, so you had already gotten ready. You wore a short little dress that you’d been waiting for an excuse to wear forever, your hair hung perfectly, and you had done some light makeup. You hadn’t dressed up like this and gone on a date in…ever.

There was a knock at the door right on time. “There’s daddy!” You told Charlotte, who smiled big and clapped her little hands together. You scooped her up and headed for the front door, opening it to reveal Eddie.

Eddie smiled at Charlotte, but immediately took notice of your look. “Where are you going all dolled up? Got a hot date?” He asked, a sneer in his voice.

Your smile dropped. So he was going to be like this today. “Yeah. I do, actually.”

Eddie didn’t like that. The thought of it struck an unusual and unwelcome jealousy into his chest. “With who?”

“That’s none of your business,” you said. You handed over Charlotte’s bag. “I can do whatever I want. You cheated on me, remember?”

He didn’t acknowledge your second comment. “It is my business if you’re bringing my daughter around some guy.”

You stared him down. “Well, you bring your mistress around our daughter, so I don’t think you have the right to say anything.”

Eddie’s eyes darkened. “Chrissy is my girlfriend.”

“Sure.” You turned to Charlotte, smiling at her. “I’ll see you Sunday, baby girl. I love you so much.” You gave her a lingering kiss on the cheek before handing her off to Eddie. “I’ll see you Sunday.”

Eddie left, and you sighed. You took some deep breaths, trying to calm yourself. You would not let Eddie ruin this night. This was your first time being asked on a date, and you were going to have a good time.

It was about 15 minutes later that Steve picked you up. He looked handsome, wearing a button up shirt and jeans. He held a beautiful bouquet of flowers that he handed you as you opened the door.

“You look gorgeous,” he said, and you could tell from his voice that he truly meant it. You blushed deeply as you took the flowers.

“Thank you,” you smiled. Steve followed you into the apartment, stepping over toys as you walked into the kitchen. You grabbed a vase and filled it with water, placing the flowers inside.

“Where are we going?” You asked as you walked with Steve to his car. He held the passenger side door open for you, and you smiled at him as you slid in. He was such a gentleman.

“I was thinking, dinner and a movie is too lame, too cliche. We watch movies all the time. So,” he gestured into the backseat, “I packed us a picnic, and got us tickets to see David Bowie in the city tonight.”

You stared at him, blinking. “I…no you didn’t.”

Steve laughed. “Yeah, I did. I know you’re a big fan, and he was performing nearby, so…”

“Oh my god!” Your heart was beating out of your chest, you felt like it would explode. “Steve. Oh my god.”

Steve was very proud of himself for this one. He knew you’d freak out, but your reaction was even better than he hoped. “That’s why I asked you out tonight specifically. I, uh…already had the tickets.”

You quickly swiped a falling tear off your cheek before it could mess up your makeup. “Steve Harrington, I think I’m in love with you.”

That made Steve’s heart swell. Because he felt the same way about you.

Steve drove the two of you to the park, where you found a spot next to a large tree. He laid out the blanket and sat down the picnic basket he’d packed full of all kinds of foods. You ate together, laughing and joking and having the best time. But you couldn’t shake the buzzing excitement in your belly from the news of the concert.

It was a couple hour’s drive to the city, but it was worth it. The show was incredible, everything you dreamed seeing David Bowie would be. Steve held your hand, which sent electricity through both of your bodies.

When Steve brought you home, he walked you to your apartment door. Butterflies were flying in your stomach, still ecstatic from the most incredible date you ever could have imagined.

“I had a great time,” Steve said.

“Me too,” you agreed. “Truly. Do you…want to come in? The night doesn’t have to be over yet.”

A smile spread across Steve’s lips. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

Steve followed you in. As you turned to him, you saw something behind his eyes. Like he was thinking, considering something. He lifted a hand and caressed the side of your face with the back of his hand, thinking he had never seen someone as beautiful in his life. “Can I kiss you?”

Your breath hitched in your throat. “I…yes.”

Steve smiled lightly. Then he was leaning in, closer and closer, until his lips pressed to yours.

Sparks flew. You kissed him back eagerly, and he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your body flush to his own. The kiss turned heated, Steve pressing your back up against the wall as he kissed you passionately. His hands began sliding up the skirt of your dress.

“Steve,” you said, breathless against his lips. “Take me to my room.”

The next morning, you woke up next to Steve. He had his arm around your waist, cuddling you close. You were both naked. As you awoke, Steve did, too, pulling you closer to him and nuzzling his face into your neck. “Don’t go,” he mumbled.

“I’m not,” you giggled. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Steve asked you to be his girlfriend that morning. It may have been a little soon, but you happily said yes. You knew Steve well, he was one of your best friends. You knew you wanted to be with him.

Robin was ecstatic when you told her the news. “About time!” She exclaimed, throwing her arms up. “Took you long enough, dingus.”

You knew you had to tell Eddie. As much as you dreaded it, he deserved to know as the father of your daughter. You waited a couple of weeks into the relationship, wanting to be sure things were going to work out before you brought it up. But your relationship with Steve was incredible, a kind of joy you never thought you could experience in a relationship.

Eddie came to the door to drop off Charlotte one Sunday evening. He was a little early, and Steve was over.

“Shit,” you hissed as he knocked at the door. “I guess it’s now or never.”

You answered the door, loving how Lottie’s face lit up at the sight of you. “Hi baby!”

“Mama!” She called, reaching for you. You took her from Eddie’s arms, sitting her on your hip. “Dada!” She exclaimed next, only she wasn’t looking at Eddie.

Steve had come up behind you, and Lottie was pointing at him. Your mouth dropped as Eddie’s face turned to one of pure anger. “What the fuck?” He said.

“I swear, I don’t know what that’s about. She’s never called him that before,” you explained quickly. Honestly Eddie deserved to have his feelings hurt, but you knew how destroyed you would be if Lottie called Chrissy Mama.

“What is he doing here anyway?” Eddie asked, gesturing towards Steve. “I don’t see Robin here. Do you have a life of your own, Harrington?”

You looked between Steve and Eddie. “Ed…me and Steve are…together.”

The words hit Eddie like a punch to the gut. He figured you would date eventually, but maybe he just got spoiled by you being single. He didn’t expect the pain of finding out you had moved on. And with Harrington? “What?”

You pursed your lips, knowing this had the potential to go badly. “We’re together. Steve is my boyfriend.”

Eddie just stared between the two of you. Then, he laughed, a sinister sounding chuckle. He knew he had no right to be pissed, but he was pissed. “Well, isn’t that just great.”

“Eddie-“

“No,” he said, holding a hand up. “You don’t owe me an explanation. You do whatever you want. Enjoy your life with Steve.”

And with that, he left. He didn’t even tell Charlotte goodbye.

Things with Steve were incredible. He was the best boyfriend you could ask for, and he was amazing with Lottie. She loved playing with him, and he could sit on the floor and play with her for hours without getting bored.

You had been together for a year and a half when he surprised you with a trip to the beach. You spent the weekend laying out in the sun, playing in the ocean, making love until the early morning in your suite.

On the last day there, you were walking down the beach hand in hand. As you were looking down at the sand for seashells, you noticed some writing in the sand. You let go of Steve’s hand to walk over and read it.

Will you marry me?

“Steve!” You exclaimed. “Look, someone proposed! How cute-“

You froze when you turned around to see Steve on one knee, holding a beautiful ring in a black velvet box. You gasped, tears immediately falling. You always were emotional.

“Will you make me the luckiest guy in the world and marry me?”

Eddie came home a little early from work one evening, and immediately knew something was wrong. He could feel it in the atmosphere before he even heard the noises. Those unmistakable noises.

He crept down the hallway, careful not to make any noise. Not that he thought he’d be noticed, anyway. Not with what he deeply suspected was going on.

He made it to the bedroom he shared with Chrissy. The door was slightly ajar, and he took a deep breath before pushing it open all the way.

Chrissy and her ex, Jason Carver, were in his bed, absolutely going at it. Eddie knew this was what was going on from the moment he walked into the apartment, but seeing it, he still felt like he’d be sick. Chrissy turned at the sound of the door opening and screamed, covering herself and Jason, who didn’t really seem to give a fuck at all.

After Jason left and Eddie was left alone with his girlfriend, he demanded the truth. She admitted she had been sleeping with Jason again for months.

Naturally, Eddie kicked her out. Then, he was alone.

Alone with only his thoughts, he had too much quiet time to think. And what he found himself thinking about was you. Far too often. He thought about your relationship, how he fucked everything up, including your lifelong friendship. Sure, he got his beautiful daughter out of it, but he could have treated you better. He should have treated you better.

He also thought about the way you’d treated him. The way you had loved him. How you were the only woman who had ever loved him, besides his mom all those years ago. How he had taken you for granted. He thought about how he would feel if some asshole treated Lottie the way he treated you. The thought itself made him furious.

Because now that Chrissy was gone and he was no longer blinded by his lifelong crush, he was realizing something:

Eddie loved you.

Not just as the mother of his child, or as a platonic friend, but love love. The kind he had been too blind to see back in high school, back during the days of your relationship.

He hated himself now. He had fucked up more than was even fathomable. He had thrown you away, for Chrissy. You were so much better than Chrissy in every way. Prettier, smarter, funnier, kinder. And you had treated him well.

Eddie dwelled on it for months. He grabbed his mail from the mailbox as he headed into his trailer one day, flipping through the various bills and junk mail - until he stopped at one with your name on it.

He dropped the other pieces of mail in his rush to open that one. He nearly ripped it in half getting it open, and as he pulled out the card inside, his blood ran cold.

You are cordially invited to the wedding of Mr. and Mrs Harrington.

It was too late.

tags

Your offer lingers and hangs in the air between the two of you.

A smile quirks at the right side of Eddie’s pink mouth. It isn’t a kind one, though. It looks more cynical than anything else.

His head juts back. He’s almost peering at you from the corner of his eye as though you were some suspicious thing he needed to analyze. A laugh sputters from his lips. “Did Buckley put you up to this? Is that what this is?”

Your faltering smile fades entirely. Your features crumble in disappointment.

This worse he could say is no, Robin had told you. 

You hadn’t prepared yourself for this.

“…What?” you wonder, voice fragile like a wilting flower petal.

Eddie chuckles to himself. He sets the book down to give you his full attention, though you’re not sure you want it anymore. “You know, I knew she was upset about me trying to set her up with Vickie and all, but this is a… whole new low.”

“Vickie…?” you murmur through a tightening throat, brows pinched in confusion. “I don’t understand—”

“Look, sweetheart… Tell Robin that this was a real funny joke, but I’m not interested, alright?”

Your chest aches with an empty feeling. You think your heart might be breaking. “J—Joke?”

“—Actually, tell her that this was very not metal of her, and that I will get my vengeance,” Eddie says with a sardonic laugh deeply rooted in his chest. His smile looks almost like he pities you as he shakes his head, eyes twinkling with pessimism. “I’m sorry she sent you to do her dirty work, but… You should probably go now. This is, you know, the Hellfire Club table and everything, so…”

You swallow thickly, then nod.

Eddie doesn’t want you here. Eddie doesn’t want you at all.

“I’m— I’m sorry if I…” The words get caught in your throat. You clear it and blink back burning tears. “I was just… I thought that maybe—”

“Eddie!” a boyish voice calls from across the cafeteria, only halfway drowned out through all the noise. A group of guys in Hellfire shirts walk towards the table.

You take that as your cue to leave. You don’t want to burst into tears in front of your crush and all of his friends.

“I’m sorry,” is all you manage to choke out before turning on your heel and walking away.

He’d been smiling up until that point — like it was all a big joke to him — because it was. 

The girl he’s been fawning over since junior year comes out of nowhere with tickets to see one of his favorite bands? That was the kind of shit he dreamt about — the kind of plan only someone as vicious as Robin Buckley could concoct to hurt his feelings. And after spending so many years being the brunt of bullies, Eddie was tired of being embarrassed.

And at first, he thought you were just a really good actor. You did look almost genuinely confused when he’d snuffed out the plan so quickly. But those wide, glassy eyes you looked at him with — he doesn’t know if a person can fake that sort of heartbreak. That looked real.

Eddie had been close to commending himself for not letting Robin win. He thought he was a genius for not allowing Buckley to use you against him. Now he knows he’s the same dumbass he's always been.

“Hey, man…” Gareth wavers as he sits at his designated seat adjacent to Eddie’s. The boy’s forlorn and faraway gaze doesn’t go unnoticed by the rest of the club. They all share looks of confusion, but the sandy-haired boy is the only one brave enough to speak up. “You okay?”

Eddie keeps his gaze trained on your figure as you maneuver through the crowd. Robin looks happy for you when you reach her, but the puppy-like excitement washes away when she notices how sad you are. 

He feels like someone’s shoved a knife between his ribcage. He wonders if this is what a broken heart feels like.

“I think I screwed up,” he answers, laughing cynically at himself. “Like, big time.”

“Well, it wouldn’t be the first time, right?” Dustin jokes before popping a fry into his mouth. He laughs, but no one else joins him. “…Right?”

Eddie glares at the boy.

He cowers. “…Kidding. I was kidding.”

—————

He stews over it all day — your offer and what he said to you and how sad you looked after he said it. 

He pictures your pinched brows and big, glassy eyes and his chest starts to burn a little. Everyone always thought he was some raging asshole just because he had crazy hair and a crazier taste in music. Now he feels like they were sort of right about him. 

Whatever chance he had with you has surely turned to dust by now. It wouldn’t surprise him after he shrugged you off like he did. But after waging a nearly four-hour war in his mind between lunch and dismissal, he knows he has to make sure. 

He has to know if he’s ruined things entirely or if there’s a glimmer of hope he can hang onto.

He comes to you at the end of the day, dripping in metaphorical blood from the mental carnage he’d endured. He stood across the hall from you for five whole minutes as he tried to come up with something to say. He walks to your locker empty-handed and just blurts, “I thought you were joking,” like a total idiot.

Through the muddled conversation in the bustling hallway, you hadn’t heard him coming. You didn’t know he was there at all until he was right next to you. Seeing someone so suddenly close to you makes you flinch — hard.

And it’s not totally Eddie’s fault. You’re jumpy and too easily frightened at times, but he can’t help but feel like he’s messing things up more than he already has.

“Oh…” you deflate with a sigh, eyes still wide and swimming with something he can’t quite place. You look like you’re almost relieved to see him. Almost. 

“Sorry— shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to…” The boy stumbles over his words, then trails off when they don’t come out the way he wants. He shakes his head and finds it in himself to smile. It’s bitter, though, filled with self-abhorrence. “I wasn’t trying to scare you.”

With one hand still clutching the door of your locker, and the other gripping a stack of textbooks, you peer at him through your lashes. “I know. It’s okay. I just— I wasn’t expecting it…”

He grimaces. “Sorry…”

“’S okay,” you repeat.

“I, um, I only came in so hot ‘cause I wanted to apologize— you know, for earlier. In the lunch room,” he stammers and puts his fidgeting hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. He tries to laugh, but it comes out more as an insincere puff of air. “Honestly, I thought you were joking.”

Your brows pinch. “Joking? Why would I—”

“I sorta locked Robin and Vickie in the old chemistry room in the east wing a few days ago,” he confesses, bouncing his shoulders. “Just because I know they both like each other and everything, and I thought maybe they’d finally admit it if they were alone together.”

“Okay…?” 

“Well, they didn’t. And Robin was pissed. So I thought she was using you to get back at me.”

“Using me?” you echo.

“Yeah. ‘Cause I’ve kinda been into you since junior year and everything,” he admits with a nonchalant shrug. The corner of his rosy mouth quirks into a half-smile. “It’s, like, the one card Robin could use against me that would actually hurt, you know? If she did try to get me back.”

Your heart swells so much it hurts, almost — the same kind of hurt you'd felt in the lunch room earlier. It feels fiery, like someone’s taken a match to your ribcage and lit your heart aglow. But it’s different now. This is a good hurt, a happy hurt.

“Really?” you squint at him, your voice high and light. Your lips twitch like you want to smile, but you don’t let yourself — lest this all turns out to be some kind of elaborate dream. Or a joke.

“Since we had Mr. Kaminsky’s together, yeah,” Eddie affirms with a slow, confident nod. His chocolate eyes flit up to the water-stained ceiling. “Let’s see… We were learning about reproduction, and Tommy Hagan made some stupid joke about using you as a real-life model instead of the pictures in the textbook—”

“I remember,” you nod, trying not to shudder at the memory that still haunts you. 

“And I told him that he was making it real obvious that he’s never seen an actual vagina before and that the one in the textbook looked a lot like his mom’s,” the boy recalls with a soft laugh. “And you looked over at me, and you smiled, and I… have been a goner ever since.”

He looks down at you again, all sheepish like he isn’t gluing your broken heart back together again. His chocolate eyes twinkle in a way you’ve never seen before. They sparkle in their softness. You have to look away before it turns you into a puddle at his feet. 

You smile widely into your locker, pursing it off to the side in attempts to conceal its brightness. 

“No one’s ever stuck up for me like that before,” you confess quietly after a few moments, peeking at him from the corner of your eye. “I’m pretty sure I gushed to Robin about it for days.”

“Yeah?” Eddie hums. He can feel his hopes getting too high.

“Yeah. I told her all about the pretty boy in the back of the room that finally got Tommy H. to leave me alone.”

“Oh… You think he’s pretty, huh?” the boy teases despite his pink cheeks.

You nod — made much braver by his previous admission — though you still have a little trouble looking him in the eye. You drag a notebook from your locker as you tell him, “I think he’s very pretty.”

“Well, I have it on good authority that the boy you think is pretty is super sorry for being such an asshole to you earlier,” Eddie murmurs, his nose scrunched and head tilted. “And that he’d really love to go to that concert with you— if you haven’t found some other schmuck to go with you, that is.”

Your eyes light up like a Christmas tree as you beam at him. No one’s ever looked at him that way before now.

“I’d like that,” you nod, then shrug. “I don’t think I’d wanna go with anyone else, anyway…”

“So, it’s a date?” Eddie asks, just to make sure. His raised brows disappear behind his fluffy bangs. His chin tilts to his chest as he smiles hopefully down at you.

You nod, and repeat it more softly than the loudmouth boy. “It’s a date.”

Eddie can feel himself grinning like an idiot. His cheeks ache with how wide he’s beaming at you, but he's too lovesick to stop. Like squinting into the sun, smiling every time he looks at you is muscle memory by now.