Back home, in California, Billy couldn’t have cared less about hockey. Didn’t know a thing about it either, his entire experience with the sport boiled down to the one time his father had brought him to see the Sharks with tickets he’d gotten for free at work.
Now that they’d relocated to Hawkins, it didn’t seem like he was going to be given a choice. After one day at Hawkins Middle, Max had come home with a flyer advertising a local girls hockey league, and hadn’t shut up about it all through dinner, yammering on how how she just had to play.
After a long debate, it was decided that she could take figure skating lessons, as hockey wasn’t feminine enough. Billy could tell it was on the tip of her tongue to argue, but she thought better of it, knowing there was no winning once Neil Hargrove made up his mind.
Of course, Billy was tasked with bringing her. He tried not to sigh too heavily when told he’d be bringing her for her first lesson the following Saturday morning.
Half awake, he stumbled into the arena on Max’s heels, coffee in hand, and sat in the stands to wait. Fuck, it was cold in there. He immediately wished he’d brought mittens.
He looked down at the ice, where there was a hockey practice wrapping up. The guys looked to be about his age. He paid them little attention, until his eyes fell on the captain. He wasn’t as bulky as most of the others, but he was a commanding presence.
He turned around, and shit, it said Harrington on the back of his jersey. Billy had heard all about this king Steve Harrington, but hadn’t seen him yet. He wondered if it was the same guy. His suspicions were confirmed when the coach called “Steve” over, and Harrington skated towards the bench.
He took off his helmet and shook his shaggy brown hair, and oh, he was beautiful, even sweaty and exhausted looking. Billy self consciously brought a hand up to his matted, sleep messed hair, and tried to discreetly fluff it up, lest Harrington look his way.
When he looked up again, Harrington’s head was tipped back and he was squirting water into his mouth from a plastic bottle, and it was hotter than it had any right to be, the water pouring down his chin. Billy allowed himself a minute to indulge in a fantasy about something else dripping down Harrington’s chin.
“Hey, Billy!” Max shouted, shaking him from his reverie just in time. His coat was not long enough to cover his crotch and he sure wasn’t taking off to drape over his lap in this cold. Billy looked at her, waiting for her to continue.
“I need you to tie my skates, I can’t get them right enough.”
Billy walked down to the bottom of the stands, taking her skate covered foot in hand, tying the laces as right as he could get them, before sending her off to start her lesson.
As his eyes wandered away from the rink, he made eye contact with Harrington, who gave him a tiny smile and a nod of his head, before walking through to the lobby.
Billy looked at his watch. Only 57 minutes to go before Max was done and he could drop her off and head to the library, so he could go learn everything there was to know about hockey.
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