☆☆18+ READERS ONLY☆☆

a/n: luke deserves someone to bake him cookies and hangout with him so that’s why im here… all the fun fluff stuff happens in part 2... but i am still very proud of this lol MY FIRST FIC ON HERE AND MY FIRST FIC OF 2026

spoilers for eternity!

PART ONE OF TWO word count: 14,590

"What will I do now?"

That was the question you asked your Afterlife Coordinator when you had chosen your Eternity. The answer you got was simple.

"Whatever you want."

You were a child of 1952, and you died in 2025. 

73. Lung cancer.

When you arrived at the junction, you were not the fine age of 73. You were 24. It had been so long since you saw yourself in that way; you had almost forgotten what your face looked like.

One moment you were old and frail and being watched over by a kind neighbor boy, and the next you were 24 on a train. 

You had gathered pretty early that you had died. What other explanation was there?

Her AC's name was Lilah. She was sweet, although it freaked you out that you were put in the care of a 9-year-old girl. Lilah had told you that she was technically 108, which you still could not wrap your head around.

You decided on Mountain World. 

A nice place to spend the rest of your life for all time. You liked the outdoors, although you weren't that sporty in life, being dead was a good time to learn how to do things, and get new hobbies.

If you were going to be dead for the rest of time, you might as well work on bettering yourself, right?

You had arrived at the beginning of winter. It was strange to you that they had seasons; the Mountain World president (which was apparently a thing) had told you that people liked the seasons changing. It helped them keep track of time and not get bored.

What was the point of keeping track of time if it was going to just go on forever and ever? Maybe it was just nice to know. That time can stomp forward, and one can be a part of it even in death.

You checked the map. Your cabin that you had been granted was somewhere near here… You heard music playing in the distance.

"When did you leave heaven? How could they let you go?

How's everything in Heaven? I'd like to know

Why did you trade Heaven for all these earthly things

Where did you hide your Halo?"

A song from your childhood. But this wasn't the Nancy Wilson version. It was a male singer. He didn't sound nearly as good.

You walked towards the music. Loud piano keys and trumpets filled the serene woods. It wasn't snowing, but the ground seemed to crunch when you walked like it had been freshly frozen over.

You saw a cabin in the distance. The door was wide open. You thought for a moment about not going inside… but you were already dead. What possible harm could looking inside do to you?

You walked towards the door and finally into the cabin. It was incredibly messy inside. The curtains were pulled to a close, blankets and various food items were all over the floor, including a half-eaten box of pizza. The lights were off, and the record player in the corner was the only item that seemed well taken care of.

You knocked on the door. It seems like the polite thing to do.

"Hello?" You called out.

Someone groaned out in response. Your eyes widened. Were they hurt? This was supposed to be a version of heaven, right? You shouldn't get hurt in heaven!

You walked inside carefully and looked around for the source of the groan. 

It took you a second before you realized a man was lying on the floor in the center of the room. He blended in with all the trash and chaos scattered around, so you didn't even see him at first.

He was lying face down in what appeared to be his own vomit. 

"Oh Jesus," you cried to yourself before rushing over to his side. 

His eyes were closed, and he was muttering to himself. 

"Hello? Are you alright? Should I call someone?" You said, holding his face.

His face was cold. How long had he been passed out?

His eyes opened slowly. His vision blurring. He blinked and looked at you, confused. 

Blue. Bright blue eyes stared at you. 

"Why are you in my cabin?" It was the first thing he said.

"I was just walking by, and I heard music, and I wanted to check if everything was okay," you answered.

He looked around his cabin in confusion.

"Fuck me," he muttered to himself.

You finally let go of his face. 

He pushed you away. You fell back onto a discarded throw pillow.

He got up slowly. He stumbled slightly before standing straight. You looked up at him.

God, he was handsome… dark brown hair that had wisps of grey. A mustache that made him look like Clark Gable. A muscular frame and broad shoulders. 

However, you couldn't ignore the fact that your attractiveness to him was dampened by the fact that his face had spatters of vomit and his hands were drenched in sweat.

"God, when did I get home?" He spoke to himself.

He had a deep voice. A voice that could read audiobooks. You missed audiobooks… You wonder for a moment if you would be able to listen to them here…

"Well, you're okay, so I'm… just gonna go…" You got up hastily and wiped your hands on your bell-bottoms.

"You're new," he said to you horsily.

You blinked. 

"I'm Luke," he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

He seemed incredibly uncomfortable with you seeing him in this state. You introduced yourself with a shy smile. He whispered your name to himself before asking.

"Where's your uh… cabin…" he rubbed the remaining vomit from his face.

"Well, I think I got lost. They gave me a map, but I think I got turned around and-"

"Let me see it," he said, holding out his hand.

He had nice hands… big…

You cleared your throat and took the map out of your pocket. You handed it to him. He examined it closely, looked at you, then back at the map. Then, he laughed.

"What?" You asked.

"You're on the wrong side of the lake," he said with a wide grin.

"Oh… I guess I can go back… I think I have a flashlight-"

"I'll row you across the lake; it'll be faster. Besides, you're right across from me anyway," he handed you back the map.

"Oh, you really don't have to do that. I'm sure you have better things to do," you said gently.

"Not really," he answered blandly.

The song ended, and the room filled with static from the record player.

"Just let me take a quick shower, okay? I'll be right back," he quickly walked towards the staircase and up the stairs.

You wanted to protest, you should have protested, but you didn't. He probably felt like he was obligated to help you since you checked up on him. 

You looked around the cabin. Should you clean? That seemed rude, to go through a stranger's things like that. The place was so dirty, though, that you felt like you should at least open the curtains for some light. So, you did. 

You could see across the lake from the window. There was a cabin with a large "WELCOME TO YOUR FOREVER HOME!" banner hanging across the patio.

How had you missed that? It was so obnoxiously big and bright.

You decided it was best just to stand outside and wait. 

There was a bench overlooking the pond (and your house). You decided to sit there. Your book bag and luggage are placed next to you. You inhaled sharply. The air was so fresh. Your lungs were not battered and bruised. You could smell everything. You shut your eyes and listened to the serene world around you. 

You weren't sure how long you sat there. Maybe you just got lost in listening to the world and your own thoughts. You were interrupted by Luke clearing his throat behind you. You turned to look at him.

He had certainly cleaned up. He no longer smelled of vomit and beer, that was for sure. He wore jeans and a dark green flannel as well as a heavy brown jacket. You frowned at his face.

"Did… did you shave?" You asked carefully.

He blinked and rubbed his mouth, looking away from you. "Uh… yeah."

You laughed. "Why?"

From your understanding, there wasn't a point in shaving or doing your hair or nails. Your body would regrow everything the next day. 

"I… It's a routine I have." He answered somewhat coldly.

You nodded. "Well. I like your mustache." 

You stood up and grabbed your two bags. Luke continued to stare at you, in an expression you could not read.

"What?" You asked, looking around.

"You like my mustache? You saw it for like not even ten minutes." He said, slightly stunned.

You shrugged, "yeah I mean I don't know. I think it makes you look sophisticated. Like Clark Gable in Gone With The Wind." 

He blinked at you.

"I mean, it's your face, you can do whatever you want. I'm not judging you or anything. I'm not shaving my legs in the afterlife, that's all I'm saying."

He nodded. 

"Let me get the canoe," he muttered, walking away from you.

Had you said something rude? It's not that he was ugly without the mustache or anything… it was hard to believe Luke had the capabilities of being ugly at all. Facial hair didn't change anything. 

The canoe was barely a foot in the water. He had already pushed it out into the lake. You rolled up your jeans to keep them from getting wet. 

You brought your bags to the canoe. Luke took them from you quickly and put them in the boat. He sat down on the far end and held onto the oars. 

You stared at the small rowboat.

"What?" Luke asked you with a somewhat irritated expression.

Maybe the hangover was just starting to kick in.

"I've… never been in one before." You said gently.

His expression softened.

"Oh… okay… uh, here give me your hand, I'll help you in okay?" 

You took Luke's hand and put one foot in the canoe. It felt like it was rocking back and forth.

Maybe it was the different sensation of the rocking of the lake from the ground, or maybe it was the fact that your shoes were slightly slippery from the mud that you stepped in that hadn't been frozen over yet… regardless of the reason, you lost your balance and fell forward. 

Luke managed to catch you without tipping the canoe over. You let out a squeal. His hands landed on your hips.

Your faces were close together. You hadn't been this close to a man in almost 10 years. 

The moment was short-lived as Luke gently pushed you back. He kept his hand on your arm as you sat down.

"I'm sorry," you said, clearing your throat. 

He didn't reply to that and simply began to row the boat. You watched as his arms flexed with each movement. Should you ask for help? Something told you Luke wasn't the type of man who accepted help… especially not from women.

"So…" you began.

"I died in Korea," Luke replied bluntly.

You looked up at his face. He wasn't even looking at you when he said it. Just behind you as you moved further away from his cabin.

"What?" You asked.

He glanced at you, "I died in Korea."

"Okay…" 

"Weren't you about to ask how I died?" He looked at you, puzzled.

"No." You scoffed, looking away from his perfectly sculptured face.

"Oh… sorry, that's usually one of the first things people ask…" he cleared his throat awkwardly.

"I was gonna ask how long you've been here. In Mountain World," you clarified.

"Oh uh five years I think. I kinda lost track of time," he said, contemplating.

You nodded, "I just got here."

"Yeah… I know," Luke laughed. 

Right. You had already had this conversation…

"I died of um… lung cancer," you said sheepishly.

It seemed rude to ask people how they had died, but Luke clearly didn't care about the unspoken rule.

"I'm sorry," Luke said.

He seemed genuinely apologetic. You gave him a subtle smile.

"Oh, it's alright. I smoked cigarettes since I was 18; it's a miracle I didn't kick it earlier," you shrugged.

"What year did you die?" You asked him after a moment of silence.

He thought for a few minutes before answering.

"1952."

You laughed.

"What?"

"The year you died was the year I was born. Isn't that funny?" You giggled.

He had a contemplative look on his face. You stopped laughing. Maybe he thought you were poking fun.

Silence once again found itself between you two. You decided to look out onto the lake rather than at him.

"Are you married?" Luke asked you suddenly.

"I was. He died ten years before me, I think he's in the beach world or something."

"Why didn't you go with him?" 

You swallowed. He was staring at you so intensely that it made you want to jump ship. You managed to be saved by the two of you arriving at your cabin.

"Whoa… It's so big!" You yelled. 

Luke turned to look at it, "yeah I mean I think it's the same size as mine."

You jumped out of the canoe and rushed towards the house.

"This is all mine?!" You yelled at Luke, jumping up and down like a child on Christmas morning.

He took your bags out of the canoe.

"Uh, yeah. It's your ideal home, at least that's-"

"But it's all mine? Do I share it?" You questioned.

"No. It's yours," he answered with a furrow of his brow.

"Wow!" You laughed.

There was a wrap-around porch. You ran around it. You had always wanted a house with a wrap-around porch. You had never told anyone that. How did they know?

You hadn't run in so long. Your feet stomped hard on the wood of the porch floor. 

Luke watched you with his hands in his pockets, seemingly amused at your reaction.

"This is amazing!" You called out to Luke.

You let out ragged breaths.

"Holy shit, I forgot how weird running is," you gasped out.

"Weird?" Luke brought your bags up the stairs.

"Yeah, I think I forgot how to do it, ya know? I used a walker in my last few years, and so I think I just… forgot how to run? Did you go through that?" You asked stretching your back.

"Well, I died when I was 30, so I think I just always retained the knowledge of running," he answered.

Both of you went inside. 

It was like a cottage out of a fairytale. Funny enough, there was a television. It didn't look like one from your childhood, boxy and heavy; it looked like one of the newer models that your son-in-law had told you was "all the rage." The thing that caught your eye was a bookshelf as tall as the ceilin,g packed with books. 

You walked towards it. You ran your fingers along the various spines.

"Were you a librarian or something?" Luke asked you.

He placed your bags on the floor.

"No, I was a nurse. But I loved reading so much… I never had enough time for it."

"Well… all you have is time now." Luke sighed.

You pulled out a copy of War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy.

"I had a copy of this for years, but I never got around to reading it," you looked back at Luke, who was in your kitchen drinking a glass of water.

"Oh, sure, make yourself at home," you laughed, tossing the book on your coffee table. 

He chugged the rest of the water.

"Sorry, I haven't drunk anything all day," he coughed and hit his chest.

"There's food in your fridge by the way," Luke said, rinsing off the glass.

"Really?" 

"Yeah, I think they give everyone a fridge of their favorite foods when they first arrive."

Luke said it was as if it were a regular occurrence. The whimsy of this place must have worn off on him.

You opened the fridge. The first thing that drew your eye was a bottle of wine. A particular bottle of wine. Pinot Grigio, 1950. You drank it for the first time in 1986 when your husband took you on a trip to France. 

You took it out and looked at it carefully. The bottle looked the same, even down to the small rip on the wine's wrapper.

Tears swelled up in your eyes. Luke looked at you, slightly uncomfortable.

"Well… I should head back," he said to you.

You continued to stare at the wine bottle. 

He made his way past you, lightly touching the small of your back. It sent an electric shock through your entire body.

You put the bottle down and followed him out the front door.

"Are you gonna be at that party tonight?" You asked him as he made his way down the porch steps.

"What party?" He turned to look at you.

"I think it's like a celebration for the first snowfall that's supposed to happen tonight. I'm going. I hope I'll see you there," you rocked back and forth on your heels.

"Oh well, I'm not really a party guy," Luke sighed.

You instantly deflated.

It would have been nice to have at least one person you know at the event. It's not that you were socially awkward; it was just that you wanted someone who knew their way around. Luke seemed like the golden candidate. He must have been here a while, and he was your neighbor! You told yourself not to be too disappointed.

"Yeah, sorry, but have fun." He gave you a polite nod.

"See ya around then, neighbor!" You waved him goodbye. 

He got into the canoe and immediately started rowing. You watched him for a couple of moments before heading back inside. 

As soon as you closed the door, you burst into tears.

You hadn't cried since arriving at that station. Lilah had told you that some people never cry when the realization of death hits them. It's just a quiet embrace that there is now a new stage. You wondered if all the people you knew who died cried. Maybe it was your overly emotional nature showing up again. 

You sat on the plush couch that practically sank into the middle. Then you sobbed and sobbed and sobbed.

You must have cried so hard you slept because when you woke up, it was several hours later, and your face was damp.

You had rolled yourself into a little ball, a tick you had ever since you were a child. Every boyfriend you had (and eventually your husband) had made fun of you for it. You weren't sure why you did it. Your mother said it was you replicating yourself in her womb. 

Your children didn't do this particular tick, however. It was singular to you.

You stretched and looked around your cabin. It really was beautiful. More beautiful and spacious than you could ever afford in life. 

The party! You thought.

You were gonna be late to the celebration. You hadn't even unpacked your suitcases. You looked through everything and stopped when you saw a particular dress. A prairie dress, brown with small white flowers and lace details. You hadn't seen the dress in years… decades…

You took it out and ran your fingers over the lace trim. It must have been from the mid-70s. Your bohemian and hippie phase that your parents hated with a passion.

You put on the dress quickly and grabbed a pair of white heels that you could not remember having ever owned in your life. You wanted to do your hair and makeup, but decided just to leave it alone. It was the afterlife. Why were you worried about makeup?

You were always a punctual person in life. You always wanted to be at a place ten minutes early; it drove your husband and children crazy. Anxiety and dread always filled you when you would arrive at a place, and you were not the first one there. 

You forced yourself to walk slowly. You were always rushing and taking things fast in life; perhaps in death, you should take things slow. Despite your nerves screaming at you to rush, you took each step slowly. The sun was just beginning to set. You followed the cobblestoned path, looking around at the vast landscape before you. You heard an owl in the distance. You wondered if it was an owl that had died, and this was his heaven as well. You had tried asking Lilah about the intricacies of animal death, but she told you, "Not to worry about it."

You heard music in the distance, although you could not place the song this time around. You made it up the stairs slowly. As soon as you reached the terrace, you were greeted by someone handing you hot chocolate. You took the mug to warm up your hands. You sipped your hot chocolate and looked around.

It was then you saw him.

Standing in the corner, with an almost somber look on his face, was Luke. He had a glass of whiskey in his hand. He gazed around the room. Finally, the two of you made eye contact. You waved a little too eagerly. He bit back a smile.

You made your way through the crowd and over to him. He must be the tallest person in this whole place…

"Hi neighbor," you greeted.

"Hi," he greeted you back.

"I thought you weren't a party guy?" You joked.

"Yeah, well… I realized I didn't have a lot to do tonight, so…" he looked at the ice in his whiskey.

"Well, I'm glad I know at least one person here," you said, touching his arm.

A blush went to his ears. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by someone joining you two.

"Flower crown?" A woman in a uniform gave you a polite smile.

"Um… why a flower crown?" You asked, looking at the flowers

"Tonight's celebration is for the Slavic goddess Morana, who is the goddess of winter, death, and rebirth. The purple Crocus on the crown symbolizes rebirth, while the white Snowdrops symbolize death and the coming winter," She explained it all in a teacher-like tone. 

"That's morbid," Luke comments behind you, sipping what you assumed to be whiskey.

"Well, I'll take one, they're very beautiful." You said politely.

The woman placed the flower crown on your head. You thanked her, she gave Luke a hard look before leaving the two of you.

"Flower crowns aren't my thing," Luke explained to you.

You laughed, you took it off your head, and leaned up to put it on Luke. Despite his statement, he let you put it on him.

"Oh, now see, I think it looks lovely on you," you laughed, looking up at him.

"Yeah?" 

You nodded, "I would know I made many a flower crown in my day."

"Attention, tonight's festivities are about to begin!" A woman clapped her hands on the stage. 

Diane, the Mountain World president, looked physically older than you. She appeared to be in her early 50s. A thick British accent and a small frame. She had bright green eyes and a slim face. She dressed nicer than the other workers who were handing out drinks, food, and flower crowns. She seemed nice enough.

You wondered how long she had been here to be president. 

"Hey, you wanna go for a walk?" Luke whispered to you as Diane began her speech.

"Will we get in trouble?" You whispered back.

He shook his head. You bit your bottom lip before nodding. You linked your arm through his, and you both slowly walked away from the crowd.

"She gives pretty much the same speech every year; you really aren't missing out on much," he murmured.

His breath felt warm against the cold of your neck. 

"Do they do this at the start of every new season?" You asked him.

He nodded, "Believe me, after the eighth one, you'll be sick of it."

The two of you walked further and further away from the others, arms still linked together like an old married couple.

"You look nice, by the way," Luke comments, looking at your dress.

"Thank you! You look very nice as well."

He wasn't wearing a suit or a tux, but he still looked nice. A brown wool jacket, on top of what seemed to be a denim jacket, and a blue t-shirt. 

"Can I ask you something?" 

You both stopped to sit on a bench. You sat close, your knees touching. He was much warmer than you were.

"Sure."

You bit your bottom lip before looking at him. He was so handsome… You don't think you've ever met a more attractive man.

"Were you married?" You asked.

His calm features quickly changed. He looked away from you, his posture straightening. Your arms were still linked together. You touched his hand gently.

"I just asked cause, well, you asked me, so… I'm sorry, I'm not trying to be rude-"

"No, you're not rude… not at all… yeah, I was married and when I died in Korea… she remarried." He said each word painstakingly slow. 

There was a moment of silence.

"I waited for her," he muttered.

"What?"

"I waited for her… for sixty-seven years. Then uh… well, it didn't work out." His voice was raw, and he sounded as if he might cry.

He continued, "I don't think I knew her, we got married young, ya know. Then I died… so when I saw her again, she was different than this person I had imagined in my head, maybe it wasn't love, or maybe it wasn't just as deep a love as I thought it would be," he let out a shaky breath. 

You weren't sure what to say to him.

Well, that explained the time discrepancy. He had died in the 50s but had only been in Mountain World for 5 years. You had wanted to ask about it earlier on the canoe, but you decided against it.

"It was all just… a waste of time," he finished. He leaned back against the bench with a sigh.

"I don't think any form of loving someone can be a waste of time," you said after a few moments.

He looked at you, waiting for you to continue.

"I think love is just something that helps people grow. Even if the relationship doesn't work out, it doesn't mean it was a waste of time because you learn something. The love is an act that is innocent."

Just then, the snow started to fall. White, delicate crystals fell softly onto the ground. In the distance, you heard cheering and clapping. The music changed to a louder, more eccentric. You couldn't place the song; you wondered if they played this one every year as well. You laughed.

"They act like this isn't something that happens every few months," you laugh.

You turned your head to look at Luke. He was closer to you now than he was before; he was leaning his head down slightly to be closer to your face. Even sitting down, he was still taller than you. So obnoxious for a man to be tall even when sitting. A shiver went up your spine. A snowflake fell on your cheek, and he wiped it away. His fingers lingered on your cheek before pulling away.

"You cold?" He asked, still close to your face.

"Yeah," you answered.

You weren't that cold in truth, but you had very few winter clothes packed with you. When you were alive and in your late thirties, your husband got a job in Chicago. You had dealt with winter snowstorms before. The winter clothes you were forced to wear were not fashionable or cute; they were a necessity. Perhaps that's why those jackets and mittens never found their way into your closet here. They were not items you loved but rather items you needed.

You felt something wrap around you. Luke had taken off his brown leather jacket and draped it over your shoulders.

"I don't want you to be cold!" You objected, trying to shrug off his jacket.

"Stop, I have another one on. I was getting hot anyway." Luke waved you off.

It was quiet between you two for a couple of minutes. You glanced at him; he had a calm look on his face that made your heart beat faster. You wanted to sit in silence with him, but you heard loud yelling coming closer. You turned your head to see a man whooping and hollering towards you both. He was complexly naked, save for his snow boots. 

"Oh my-"

Luke covered your eyes. His hand could practically cover your whole face.

"Matt, do you have to do this every year?" Luke groaned out to the naked man.

"Hey, look who came out of his depression cave!" Matt said back to Luke.

"I think I'm gonna go home now," you said to Luke, his hand still covering your eyes.

"Matt, go behind the tree so she doesn't see it," Luke instructed.

"Luke, I had three children and worked in an ER. I have seen penis's before," you crossed your arms.

"Yeah, but you shouldn't have to see his," Luke said gently.

"What's wrong with mine?! You're just mad cause you want the first dick she sees here to be yours!" Matt protested. 

It was a good thing Luke had covered your eyes, 'cause his face and ears went bright pink with embarrassment. You frowned at the man's crude comment.

"Okay, I'm going home," you pushed Luke's hand from your face and began walking away from the two men.

"It's nice to meet you!" Matt called out to you.

You waved your hand back without turning around. Luke ran after you, catching up to you easily.

"He and some other people always streak during the first snowfall. It's stupid," he shook his head with a laugh.

"Have you done it?" You asked him.

"My mother raised me better," Luke answered, putting his hands in his pockets.

"Hm, well, your mother isn't here. If you want to strip, you definitely can; she will never know." You patted him on the shoulder.

"You're just trying to get my second jacket," Luke bit his lip and looked away from your smiling face.

"I'm quite warm in the one you gave me, actually," you wrapped the jacket around your frame tighter.

"You know you never answered my question from earlier today; why didn't you go to your husband's Eternity?"

You stopped walking and looked at him with an almost scowl. Why did he keep asking you that damn question?

"Why do you ask?" You try your best to be polite.

"I don't know, you were the one who was talking about how love isn't a waste, and everything. Did you not love your husband or something?"

Something about his tone of voice irritated you. Like he had a right to know everything about you and your life when you had met him covered in his own vomit. 

"I'm not judging you," Luke said, reaching out to touch your arm.

"Well, it sounds like you are," you snapped back.

He blinked in surprise at your mood shift. You scoffed and began walking away from him. He grabbed your arm and pulled you close to his chest. You blinked in surprise.

"I know you were alive in the 1940s, but women don't like being grabbed like this," you looked up at him.

"Some do," Luke whispered.

"I don't." You gritted your teeth.

He let his hand travel from your arm to around your waist. Despite yourself, you couldn't bring yourself to slap his hand away.

"My wife, when we came here together, she left for her second husband." Luke breathed out.

"How is that possible? I thought we weren't allowed to leave our Eternity?" You asked.

"I helped her escape. I think the workers know about it, but they can't prove it." Luke said to you.

You could see his breath now. The temperature had seemingly dropped by 20 degrees in the last 10 minutes. 

"You just met me… why are you telling me this?" You asked gently.

He stepped back from you, his hands in his pockets, and gave you a shrug.

"Because you're a good person," he said, his eyes starry, "I don't think you'll tell anyone."

As a nurse, people would confess things to you on their deathbeds. Horrible things.

"I cheated on my wife."

"I killed a man in '86 through a hit and run".

"My husband thinks our son is his, but it isn't."

When death was close, you wanted a clean conscience; you acted as a priest in most situations. Telling people it was okay and they were forgiven… even if they probably shouldn't be. So… you were used to keeping secrets. You would keep Luke's because he had entrusted it to you and only you.

"I'm really sorry, Luke," you choked out.

Luke's life seemed like a Greek Tragedy.

Dies young. Waits for his lover for 60 years. Changed her mind once she had already been with him. Sophocles was in some Eternity writing this exact scenario. 

You reached out and held his hand, squeezed it tight. He caressed your cheek.

Oh God… You thought.

You weren't that naive about how men acted when they tried to make a move. It appeared that even men who were born in the 1920s played by the same handbook.

Next, he's gonna tell me I'm beautiful. 

"You're really beautiful, ya know," he purred, his breath fanning your cheeks.

"Jesus," you could almost roll your eyes, but you wanted to be gentle.

You were likely the first woman—person who had shown him kindness without a hidden agenda. 

"Luke…" You put your hands on his chest and turned your head away from him.

"What?" He asked, genuinely confused. 

"I think we should be friends. I don't think this is… I don't think this is what you need right now," you said somewhat sternly.

He blinked. A thousand thoughts ran through his head, you were sure. 

You prepared for him to yell at you, call you a tease or a bitch, but he simply rolled his shoulder back and stood tall.

"Okay," he said after a few moments of silence.

You smiled warmly at him.

"Can I walk you back to your cabin?" He asked somewhat awkwardly.

Christ was this his first time being rejected?

"Wouldn't you rather stay for the rest of the party?" 

"Not really, I don't really care for fireworks."

You frowned, "Fireworks, they haven't lit any-"

Just as that moment, loud popping sounds screamed into the air and exploded. You jumped at the sudden noise. You looked up to see various fireworks painting the night sky. One was a snowman, another a snowflake.

Luke laughed at your reaction.

"I told you, you get used to all the parties after a while."

Your heart was beating hard against your ribcage. The two of you began to walk back to your cabins. 

"Very impressive fireworks, though I must say," you commented.

"Yeah, it's all very impressive," Luke said back with a smile.

------------------------------------------------------------

When you woke up the next morning, you panicked. You were not in your Illinois condo, the bed was too soft, and the wall did not have your family portraits. Then you remembered.

Right. Dead.

You stared up at the ceiling for a couple of moments. This was your new ceiling. For the rest of time.

You made your way out of bed slowly, like you did when you were alive. You stretched (you could stretch so easily now!) and yawned.

You made your way down the cabin stairs. You brewed a cup of coffee, poured it into one of your favorite mugs (you can’t believe you have all your mugs in the afterlife), and went outside.

The snow had left the yard and forest covered in a white blanket. The snow seemed to sparkle against the sun. You looked to see that the lake was completely frozen over. You sipped your coffee and watched a squirrel jump from tree to tree.

You could see Luke’s cabin perfectly from yours. The door to his cabin opened, and out came Luke in a black jacket and a wool hat. He sipped something from a can. He put the can down and began walking into the three feet of snow. He hadn’t noticed you watching him.

Getting on his hands and knees, Luke began shaping various balls of snow into a variety of shapes. He stepped back and looked down at what appeared to be a sculpture of a bunny rabbit. He frowned at it and groaned quite loudly. You saw his lips move, and he kicked the bunny until it was back into a blob of snow. He went back into remaking it.

It was so childlike the way he would be satisfied with his own small creations… cute and innocent the way he would smile when something came out the way he wanted.

You went back inside your cabin after watching him for what seemed to be an embarrassing amount of time. You leaned against your door and smiled to yourself. You ran upstairs to get dressed, looked in your closet, and really had to find a way to get some winter clothes. All you had that was appropriate for the weather was a multicolored striped turtleneck, dark brown boots, and dark wash flared jeans.

You went back downstairs and into your kitchen. A thought occurred to you, and you immediately preheated your oven.

Brownies. You hoped he liked chocolate…

You remembered your recipe perfectly. You and your grandchildren used to bake when they were younger, but they had grown out of it once they got cellphones.

When you finally finish, you let them cool for ten minutes before cutting them and putting them on a plate. You grabbed a jean jacket and closed the door behind you. You were tempted to just walk across the frozen lake, but you decided to follow the path to Luke’s cabin.

He was still outside. It had been almost three hours, and he didn’t even look tired. His cheeks and ears were a shade of light pink, but other than that, he seemed to be in his own world, not even registering the cold. He was talking to himself, but you couldn’t register what the hell he was saying.

He was near the bench that sat in front of the lake. He was sculpting what appeared to be a woman sitting on the bench, staring out at the lake.

“That’s not how her hair is,” you heard him say as you walked closer.

“Hello!” You called with a smile.

That seemed to have startled him out of his sculpture-induced psychosis because his eyes widened and he stumbled back onto his ass. Your eyes widened, and you rushed over to him, holding your plate of brownies tightly.

“Are you alright? I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to frighten you,” you gasped out.

“You did not frighten me, I’m a grown man,” Luke defended, still on the ground.

“Right.. of course…” You stifled a laugh.

He groaned and stood up, stretching his back.

“I brought you brownies,” you held out the plate to show him,

He looked down at the plate.

“Why?” He asked.

“I don’t know, I just thought it would be nice to make them for you.”

He took the plate from you and examined the brownies closely. You looked down at the statue on the bench.

The statue had her hands in her lap; she had no real facial features except for her hair, which seemed short.

“You gotta give her a friend,” you commented.

You looked back at Luke to see that he had already eaten three of the brownies, chocolate covering his lips as he stuffed them into his mouth. His cheeks were puffed out like a baby's. You covered your mouth so as not to burst out laughing.

“Thewy’re gwood,” he said, his mouth still full.

“Well, I’m glad you like them,” you smiled.

He finally swallowed the cement of chocolate and rubbed his mouth on his sleeve. He handed you back the plate of brownies. There were still some on the plate, something told you Luke could probably stuff all of them into his mouth in one go.

“What do you mean she needs a friend?” Luke asked you looking at his sculpture.

“Well, it would be nice if she were sitting with someone, don’t you think? So they can talk,” you shrugged.

He thought for a moment. He grabbed a chunk of snow, and he began sculpting a man for his snow woman. You watched in amazement.

“You’re really good,” you said, watching him form a hat for his snowman.

“Eh, I’ve just been doing it a lot, helps clear my head,” Luke comments.

“I could barely do a snowman, and you’ve done deer! That’s amazing,” you reassured.

He stepped back next to you. You both looked at the snow couple.

The man was sitting close to the woman, with her head now resting on his shoulder. The man’s eyes were closed, and he had a smile. The women’s eyes were open, and she smiled as well, wider than the men's. It was like they were having their own little conversation.

“I don’t know if I like it,” Luke said, his hand under his chin, examining the sculpture.

“It’s cute! They’re lovers in the snow,” you defended.

He glanced at you. He looked down at the plate of brownies.

“These are fucking incredible by the way,” he took another brownie off the plate.

“Thank you, it’s an old family recipe,” you beamed.

“Should have been a baker while you were alive,” Luke bites into the warm brownie, not caring about the chocolate chips spilling onto his hands.

“Yeah, well, I enjoyed being a nurse. I like taking care of people,” you looked back at the snow couple.

“You’re good at it,” Luke smiled softly at you.

You looked back at him. No one had ever actually told you that before. In your 73 years of being alive, no one had ever told you that you were good at anything. Not a good wife, a good nurse, a good mother… You came to the conclusion that you were painfully average.

“Really?” You asked like a child.

“Yeah, you are. I bet you were a good wife when you were with your husband,” he licked the chocolate off his fingers.

You swallowed.

“I don’t think I was… if I were a good wife, I would feel more sad about not being with him for all eternity…” You looked down at your plate of brownies.

“Hey, aren’t I supposed to be the one who’s sad about their marriage?” he pinched your cheek.

You laughed and pushed his hand away.

“You let him go down his own path… that’s a very admirable thing to do… if anything, he’s a bad husband for not waiting for you!” Luke scoffed.

“Oh no, he was fine. It was ten years we were apart…”

You stopped yourself. This was Luke, who waited 67 years for his wife. Your husband couldn’t even last a whole week waiting for you. Lilah had told you he picked his afterlife in just three days! Three!

The wind blew, and a shiver went up your spine.

“Let's go inside,” Luke said to you, gently, his hand on the small of your back.

You nodded.

He had cleaned his cabin since yesterday. You could actually see the floor now, which was nice. You put the brownies on the coffee table. Luke threw some logs of wood into the fireplace and lit a match. The fire immediately started. You held out your hands and let out a dreamy sigh. Luke gave you a soft smile before walking into the kitchen.

“You really gotta get some winter clothes,” Luke commented from the kitchen.

“I know,” you rubbed your hands together.

“Why don’t you just order them from the catalogues?” Luke asked.

You turned to look at him. He was pouring two glasses of whiskey.

“What catalogues?” You frowned.

He looked up at you. He finished pouring the two glasses. He came into the living room and put the two glasses on the coffee table next to the brownies. You watched as he opened a drawer and plopped a large book on the couch. You sat down on the couch and flipped the book open to the first page.

BUILD YOUR DREAM WARDROBE FOR ALL OF TIME! 

“You just circle what you want, and it can get delivered in like two days,” Luke said, sitting next to you, drinking his whiskey.

“Holy shit,” you whispered, flipping through the book.

It was massive, spanning from the 1900s all the way to the 2020s.

“If you want something from earlier in time, it’s like a separate book that they give you. You just circle and tear out the pages, put them in the mailbox,” Luke explained.

“Groovy,” you smiled, flipping to the section titled 1970s.

“I don’t think people say that anymore,” Luke said as he sipped his whiskey.

“Yeah, that’s what my grandkids said, but I like it,” you shrugged.

Luke handed you a pen, and you graciously accepted it.

“I recognize some of the stuff in here… I wanted a Penny Lane coat so badly, but I could never afford the actual nice ones,” you showed Luke a picture of a model in a brown leather Penny Lane coat.

The coat had cream fur. You weren’t sure if it was real or fake fur, but you didn’t even care. You drew a big heart around it and tore out the page.

“I feel like a teenager,” you said bashfully.

Luke laughed.

He watched as you drew hearts around various items.

A bluish-grey jacket with fur on the sleeve cuffs and hood. A purple suede maxi dress with embroidered daisies on the end of the skirt. A denim jumpsuit with a heart cut out on the upper back. Gogo boots… so many gogo boots.

“Ya know this is all gonna have to fit in your closet,” Luke looked down at your pile of torn-out pages.

His head was leaning against his hand as he watched you.

“I can make room. A woman always needs a wide variety of shoes.”

“But you’re just picking the same pair of boots, but in different colors,” Luke grabs one of the pages and looks at it skeptically.

“They’re not the same! This one has laces, and this one doesn’t! This one has a higher heel than this one!” You moved closer to him to explain the intricate differences between each of the boots.

“Oh, I see, I see,” he said plainly. 

“Oh, shush, it’s my eternity, and I wanna dress how I never got too in life,” you took the pages from him.

“You should order stuff too…” You look at his clothes skeptically.

“What’s wrong with the way I dress?” Luke asked, offended.

“Nothing. Many people find lumberjacks very attractive.” You shrugged and went back to the book.

“You take that back!” He took the book from you.

“No man should have six different plaid shirts, it's not necessary!”

“Says the woman who just circled like eight of the same boots!”

“They’re not the same!”

The two of you continued bickering until Luke eventually gave in and agreed to order new clothes. You moved closer to him and watched over his shoulder as he flipped the book back to 1940.

“No do 50’s at least!” You said hitting his shoulder.

Without much pushback, he flipped to the 1950s.

He would point to certain clothing items, looking to you on if he should get them or not. The two of you sat snuggled together as the fire burned, looking at sports coats.

“God, I forgot how ugly 1950s fashion was,” you scrunched up your face at the plaid jacket.

“Well, you were a kid through the ’50s, so that’s probably why,” Luke pointed to a green sweater with big black buttons.

You nodded, and he circled it.

“Don’t get anything in blue,” you said when he tried to circle an argyle blue sweater.

“Why?”

“Your eyes are blue, it clashes. You should wear warmer-toned colors,” you suggested.

He blinked his bright blue eyes at you.

“I like blue,” he said with a frown.

You rolled your eyes, “Okay, just do a darker shade of blue, then nothing too bright.”

“But you said I should wear warmer tones. Isn’t bright blue a warmer tone?”

“No, you should do earthly tones if you’re gonna do blue.”

“How do you know this?” Luke asked you.

“I don’t know… It’s color theory. Also, my youngest daughter went to fashion school, so she kinda just told me all the colors.” You shrugged.

“Was she a fashion designer?” Luke asked genuinely interested.

“Yeah… my other daughter is a teacher, and my son is a chef,” you explained to him.

“You must be very proud of them,” Luke looked back at the catalogue.

“Is it strange that I don’t like to think about them?” You asked sheepishly.

He looked back at you.

“What?”

“I don’t like thinking about them, it just… it makes me too sad… I dwell on how they are and what they're doing and how my grandchildren are, and it just… it makes me too sad. I can’t go to that memory theater thing, I think I would just… break down and sob.” You laughed, but Luke had a grave look on his face.

“I’m sorry for asking, I didn’t… I didn’t want you to think you can’t talk about it with me…” Luke whispered, rubbing a stray tear from your face.

When had you started crying?

“No, no, it’s fine… God, you must think I’m a horrible mother,” you rubbed your eyes.

“I don’t think that,” Luke said, touching your hand.

He was so warm. God, you told him literally last night that you two should just stay friends, and you knew in your heart that it was the right thing, but all you wanted right now was for him to lie on top of you and kiss you all over. Your entire body felt too hot… God the last time you had sex was during Obama’s first administration.

Suddenly, a knock on the door startled both of you.

You looked at Luke.

“Were you expecting anyone?”

Luke looked at you, “You’re like the only person I’ve had a conversation with in almost three years.”

“Okay, well… that’s concerning,” you noted.

Luke got up and moved towards the door. You trailed behind him, curious. He opened the door to reveal Diane, the Mountain World president, smiling with a manila folder clutched to her chest. You peeked behind Luke’s shoulder to look at the woman.

“Well, Hello Luke!” Diane said with a warm smile.

She glanced over at you, peeking over Luke’s shoulder.

“And our newest member, how lovely to see you,” Diane acknowledged

“What do you want?” Luke asked, irritated.

You elbowed his side.

“Hello, Madam President,” you greeted.

“Oh, that’s not necessary, just call me Diane dear,” She laughed and waved you off.

She didn’t acknowledge Luke’s comment.

“I was looking for you, but then you weren’t at home, so I thought I would try here,” Diane said with an easy smile.

“Why would you try here?” Luke asked.

Diane turned to look at him, finally acknowledging his presence.

“Well, Linda said she saw you two walk off during the party,” Diane explained.

Who the fuck was Linda? You thought.

“Well, anyway, may I steal you for a moment for a quick chat?” Diane turned back to you.

“Oh… Um, sure, okay,” you touched Luke’s arm gently to silently signal that you would be back.

You and Diane walked further from Luke’s cottage together. You could feel his eyes on you the whole way. You turned back for a moment and gave him a little wave. He nodded back at you.

“Are you liking it here so far? Do you like your cabin?” Diane asked you. She stopped walking to lean against a tree.

“Oh yes! It’s wonderful. Everyone is really nice, I am so grateful to be here!” You put your hands behind your back so the woman could not see you fidgeting.

“Well, good, I’m glad. This is your eternal salvation, and it’s important that you enjoy it,” Diane said, opening up the manila folder with her.

“You were a nurse for almost 45 years, that’s quite impressive. You helped a lot of people when you were alive,” Diane read from the folder.

You weren’t sure what to say to that, so you remained quiet.

“You took care of so many people. Your husband, when he got sick, thousands of patients, your children, your grandchildren…”

“Well, I like taking care of people,” You commented.

She glanced up at you, then back down at the folder.

“No one took care of you, though. You died while serving a neighbor boy some tea,” she flipped a page in the folder.

Jerome. A sweet boy, he would come by every week to help you around the house. He was a Boy Scout, but you liked to think he did enjoy talking with you.

“Well, yes… but he helped me quite a lot this past year-“

“I just don’t want you to spend all of eternity taking care of someone else. You did that enough in life. I believe it’s time to take care of you,” Diane closed the folder and held it to her chest.

You were quiet for a moment before speaking again, “By someone, do you mean Luke?”

She took a sharp exhale.

“We’re friends, I enjoy his company, I don’t… I don’t baby him…”

Perhaps you did… a little… You did bake him brownies without him asking. You helped him even at your first meeting when he was face down in his own vomit. But he helped you as well! He rowed you across the lake, he walked home with you last night… he helped you pick out clothes!

“Good, he is a grown man; he does not need you fussing over him,” Diane scolded lightly.

Maybe you liked fussing over Luke. That was just a personality. You were a fusser!

“Well I won’t take up any more of your time, have a wonderful rest of your day,” Diane squeezed your arm gently.

You know she was just trying to be nice. It was her job to make sure everyone in this afterlife was happy and taken care of. She wasn’t trying to be cruel, but it sure did feel like she was telling you what to do.

You walked back to Luke’s cabin slowly, unsure of what to even say to him about the meeting. Perhaps you should just keep it to yourself…

Luke was sitting on the snow-covered grass. He was building a small snowman, muttering something to himself. You watched him for a moment before getting closer.

He looked up at you.

“What did she want?” Luke asked.

You shrugged and sat down next to him in the snow.

“She was just checking in to make sure I was okay since I’m new and all,” you replied.

Technically not a lie.

He nodded and poked two sticks into the small snowman’s sides.

“What’s this little guy's name?” You asked

“They don’t have names,” Luke stated.

You frowned, “How mean of you! They all need names. Names are our first identities. Come on, a no-name choice is bad.”

“Okay… how about Frosty?” Luke suggested.

“No, that’s terrible,” you scowled.

“You just said no name was bad!” Luke laughed, throwing his arms up in the air, exasperated.

“Well, don’t be cliché about it… How about Francis? That’s a good name for him, he seems dapper,”

Luke sculpted what appeared to be a top hat and placed it on the snowman’s head.

“Oh, see, he looks so cute. Doesn’t he look like a Francis?” You asked Luke.

“I don’t know what a Francis looks like, so I’ll take your word for it,” Luke replied.

The rest of the afternoon was spent naming the various snow sculptures Luke had made. He wasn’t creative with his names, but he did try. When the sun was beginning to set, you bade him goodbye. Carrying the pages of clothes to your chest.

Diane was probably right. You shouldn’t spend all your time taking care of and spending time with Luke… but you liked it. Why should you have to change a core part of yourself just because you were dead? You enjoyed taking care of people; it gave you meaning and purpose. If it weren’t Luke, it would be someone else.

You were happy it was Luke, though. He needed it more than the others…

------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning, your clothes had arrived. Almost twenty boxes worth of winter clothes were left on your front porch; surprisingly, they were not too heavy to bring into your home. You opened all the boxes as quickly as possible, giggling to yourself as the tissue paper the clothes were wrapped in flew through your living room.

You looked at the chocolate brown jacket you had been gushing over. Suede with a fur collar and fur cuffs that were the softest things you had ever touched. This was a coat that needed to be seen by the entire population of Mountain World. You put on a wool plaid skirt that also came with your shipment and a pair of black boots.

As you were about to leave the house, you caught your reflection in the mirror. It was still weird to see yourself so young. You poked at your supple cheek. Part of you wondered if you were just dreaming, maybe in some coma. Perhaps you had imagined Luke. Maybe he was a doctor; he was speaking to you, and your brain had taken his words and formed a new version of him.

It seemed plausible… You shook your head. You didn’t want to think like that. It was too depressing.

Maybe you should stop looking at yourself in the mirror. You read it was bad for people's self-esteem.

You grabbed your copy of War and Peace and left the cabin. You considered checking in on Luke but decided against it. However, it nagged at your brain the entire walk to the snow slopes. Your heart hammered into your chest as you walked up the balcony steps.

A few people were sitting at various tables. Talking over coffee and cigarettes and multiple stacks of pancakes. You sat by yourself at a table facing near the top of the mountain. You didn’t mind being by yourself; you were pretty used to it, even when you were alive. You were never the type of person who had a big friend group. You knew many people in your life, even traveling with fellow Bohemians around the West Coast when you were 17, but you didn’t think of them as friends, just people you smoked pot with. You were social, you could talk to anyone about anything, but often you felt people lost interest in you. You only had three real friends in your life, and one of them was a childhood pet, and the other was the person you were married to…

You pushed the thoughts out of your head and cracked open your book. You managed to get another thirty pages into War and Peace before you were interrupted.

“Hey, how’s the book?”

You looked up to see Luke’s comforting face. He was wearing a ski suit and a red-and-white beanie that looked handmade. He had a small smile on his face. He lifted his goggles so you could see his bright blue eyes, sparkling in the sun.

“Hi,” you greeted him.

For some reason, his presence seemed to relax you.

“Hi,” he greeted back.

“How’s the book?” He asked once more.

“Oh! It’s good so far I like Pierre I think he’s my favorite character,” You dog eared the page and shut the book.

He sat across from you, leaning his snowboard against the rail that overlooked the mountains.

“You snowboard?” You nodded at the snowboard.

“Yeah I mean I haven’t done it in a while but I thought I would try doing it again. Fresh snow and all.”

His cheeks were pink, but you weren’t sure if that was because he was embarrassed or because of the cold.

“Hi Luke,” a trio of women greeted him as they walked by the table.

They did not greet you. The blonde of the group waved at him, and Luke awkwardly saluted back.

“Do you know them?” You asked Luke.

“I mean— Not like well like I know them—but like okay not know I just um they… yeah I know them.” He cleared his throat and sank deeper into the chair.

You watched him squirm, avoiding your gaze. Luke was saved by a waiter coming over to the table.

“Would either of you like to order anything to drink or eat?”

“Oh, um…” You hadn’t even looked at the menus on the table.

You opened it quickly and were hit with various items in cursive writing. It always took you forever to order at restaurants, which irritated your husband greatly.

“She’ll get an espresso martini and an order of the French toast, extra fruit, and I’ll just get a water,” Luke ordered.

The waiter wrote the order down quickly and walked off. You looked at Luke.

“How did you know I like French toast?” You asked.

He shrugged, “You mentioned it yesterday, remember? When we talked about foods we were excited to eat again, now that calories and blood sugar aren’t a thing anymore.”

You thought back. Right… you did have that conversation… how did he remember that and you didn’t?

“I’ve never had an espresso martini before,” you said to him.

“You’ll like it. I was a bartender for like 60 years, I can tell what type of drink people order or will like,” He scratched at the wood of the table.

“What happens if I don’t like it?” You asked.

He thought for a moment, “I don’t know, guess I'll just die.”

“That’s not funny!” You pouted, hitting him on the arm.

He cracked a wide smile. He leaned on his palm on the table and gazed at you.

“So what’s your drink?” You asked, leaning close to him.

“I drink everything,” he comments.

“Well, okay, but you have a favorite! Let me guess… whiskey? Bourbon?”

“All bourbon is whiskey, but not all whiskey is bourbon,” Luke explained to you.

“Really? Hm okay… um…”  You didn’t know that many drinks.

“Beer?” You furrowed your eyebrows at him.

“All men like beer, but not really, no,” Luke laughed at your expression.

“Fuck, I don’t know, just tell me.”

“Cognac,” Luke finally answered.

“I don’t know what that is,” you blinked.

“It’s French,” he replied.

“I’m sure.”

Your food and drinks came a moment later. The French toast was the prettiest you had ever seen, fluffy golden brown with a drizzle of maple syrup, with a side of the most red strawberries and the most dazzling blueberries. Your mouth started to water.

“My God,” you whispered.

“See, I wouldn’t steer you wrong!” Luke laughed, popping a blueberry into his mouth.

You took a sip of the espresso martini, and your eyes grew wide.

Luke smiled somewhat smugly. You almost wanted to say it was disgusting to prove him wrong, but you would be betraying yourself. You downed the whole thing in three gulps.

“Hey, hey, easy now, those things are strong,” Luke said, taking the already empty glass from you.

“I’m a big girl,” you commented back, already feeling the alcohol burn your empty stomach.

He looked at you warily before finishing off his water.

“I’m gonna go, I promised some people I’d meet them at the top of the mountain… don’t drink too much, you can get drunk here,” Luke cautioned.

You waved him off c,utting into your French toast. He bid you goodbye, taking his snowboard with him. You watched him leave. Just when he was put out of sight, you waved over your waiter.

“How many of these are you allowed to give me?” You asked him.

“As many as you would like,” the waiter smiled.

“Okay, I need you to bring me one every time my glass is empty, okay?” You waved the glass around.

He nodded and took the glass from you. He turned to leave, but you grabbed his arm.

“Wait, one more thing,”

“Yes?”

“Can I get a cheeseburger, please? With lots of onions?” You pouted.

The waiter laughed, “Yes, ma’am.”

Hours blurred together as did your vision. Your book was discarded, as were your shoes. You weren’t sure how much you had eaten, but it was more than you had ever eaten in your entire 73 years of being alive. Cheeseburger, a slice of cheesecake with raspberry drizzle, two orders of French toast, a fruit salad, Sauerbraten with a side of mashed potatoes and asparagus, a hot dog with ketchup, and 9 going on 10 espresso martinis. You were holding the waiter hostage in conversation.

“I knew an Allen when I was alive? You don’t look like him, though,” you slurred, holding his hand.

“I’ve been dead for 500 years, so it wasn’t me,” the waiter replied somewhat blandly.

“Were you married? I was married for a long time, he’s in the beach heaven or something I was gonna go, but I don’t think it would have been a good—“ you hiccuped.

“Ma’am, I have other tables-“

“My mother never liked him, but my father did, and I think that’s why I married him,” you held the waiter's hand close to your chest to prevent him from leaving.

“Hey kid… You alright?”

You and the waiter turned to look at Luke. He was slightly sunburnt on his nose and had a tan around his eyes where his goggles didn’t cover. Another man, a little shorter than him, stood next to him with a snowboard at his hip.

“Luke! Do you wanna finish this grilled cheese?” You asked to let go of the waiter's hand.

The waiter took this as an opportunity to bolt away from you.

“Steven, I’ll see you later.” Luke patted the other man on the shoulder.

Steven gave him a polite smile and waved goodbye. You waved back obnoxiously. Luke kneeled before you and examined your face.

“How much did you drink?” He asked.

You pulled on his left ear and giggled.

“Dumbo,” you sang to him.

He blinked.

“Oh my God, did you die before watching Dumbo?” You asked, cupping your hands around his ears.

His ears were cold. You frowned at this.

“I have seen Dumbo,” he replied.

“But I've been, done, seen about everything, when I see a elephant fly” you sang close to his face.

“Okay, wow, I am taking you home,” he muttered.

“I want one more martini,” you let go of his ears and looked for your martini glass.

“I think you had enough,” Luke shook his head.

“I've had ten, which sounds like a lot-“

“That’s a lot.”

“No, it’s not!” You cried out, poking him in the stomach.

Luke put your arm over his shoulder, he helped you stand, and caught you by your waist when you stumbled. Your legs gave out from under you. He managed to keep you standing somehow.

“Wow, you’re a strong guy,” you said, looking up at him.

“Thank you,” he laughed awkwardly.

“Wait! My bill! I have to pay!” You cried out, reaching into your pockets.

“It’s free, remember?” Luke furrowed his eyebrows at you.

“Right, I’m dead…” You whispered.

He grabbed your book and stuffed it into the deep pockets of his snowsuit. As he began walking with you, he noticed your feet dragging along.

“This isn’t gonna work,” he muttered.

He was carrying you like one of his fellow troops. You were not a wounded soldier, you were a drunk young (old) woman. Finally, he decided to lift you up and throw you over his shoulder. You let out a “wee” and threw your arms out like a bird.

“Are you mad at me?” You asked him after a few minutes of him carrying you home.

“No, of course not,” Luke answered, letting out a small huff of air.

“Don’t be mad at me,” you cried, running your hands up and down his back as a way of calming him down.

It sent shivers up his spine, but he didn’t say anything.

“I like it here,” you said, looking up at the bare trees.

Luke didn’t reply. He held on to you tightly as you squirmed in his arms.

“Stop moving, I don’t want to drop you,” he said gravely.

You muttered something and quit moving.

Finally, both of you reached your cabin.

“Home sweet home,” Luke said, opening the door.

However, with the way you were situated over his shoulder, you hit your head on the door frame.

“Ow!” You cried out.

“Fuck,” he muttered, putting you down and holding your face in his hands.

Your body fell forward. He brushed the hair out of your face and looked at you.

“Sorry, you okay?” He asked tenderly.

“My head hurts,” you pouted at him.

“From the alcohol or the doorframe?” Luke asked.

“Both,” you slapped his chest.

God, he had a nice chest…

“Come on, let me get you to bed,” Luke held your waist.

You gestured up the stairs to your bedroom.

“I don’t put out that easily, so don’t get any funny ideas, mister,” you poked his cheek.

Your legs felt like they were made of Jelly; they wobbled with each step.

“Well, you’re incredibly drunk, so that was not what was going through my head anyway,” Luke said, holding your waist tighter so you wouldn’t fall.

“If we were alive at the same time, you probably wouldn’t have looked my way. Men didn’t flirt with me a lot, I only had one boyfriend before my husband, ya know,” you explained drunkenly to him.

He was quiet, so you kept talking. He was learning that you were even more chatty when you were drunk.

“I had sex with a couple of guys though, ya know, with I was a hippie and free love and all that, but I think they just wanted someone to fuck. I don’t think they liked me all that much. I kinda just did it to feel someone on me.” Your eyes glazed over as you both finally made it to your room.

“I’m sure they liked you,” Luke said, helping you with your jacket.

“No… they didn’t, but I didn’t really like them either, so I guess it’s fine.”

Your fingers were intertwining with his as you both unbuttoned your jacket. Luke tried to ignore how soft your hands were against his.

When you finally got your jacket off, you let out a sigh of relief. You unzipped your skirt and threw it in the corner. Left in only your boots, underwear, and a white long-sleeved shirt, you walked slowly to your bed.

Luke looked away as you sat on the plush mattress with a slight huff. You pulled on your boot, but it wouldn’t budge.

“Do you need help?” Luke asked.

You nodded in embarrassment. He gave you a half smile before getting on his knees in front of you. He lifted your boot against his stomach and began to unzip it. You placed your hand on his head.

He stopped unzipping your boot and looked up at you. You gave him a tender smile, entirely innocent to how this looked. He felt the back of his neck begin to sweat.

“You’re perfect,” Luke whispered, looking down at your shoe.

“What?” You asked him.

“Nothing…” he finished, unzipping your shoe and quickly making work of your other one.

You removed your hand from the top of his head and pushed yourself back towards the headboard. Luke remained kneeling for a few moments before standing.

“Can you stay with me till I fall asleep?” You asked, pulling a blanket up to your neck.

“Sure,” he nodded, pulling a chair up next to your bed.

You lay down and looked at him, batting your eyelashes.

“I bet women would chase after you when you were alive… and dead,” you sighed.

A blush bloomed on his cheeks. “Oh, I guess.”

He looked away from you, clearly embarrassed.

“Don’t shave your mustache anymore,” you frowned, looking at his face.

He had shaved it, again, you just now noticed in your drunken state.

You reached out your hand and touched just above his upper lip. He froze. You pulled your hand away after a couple of seconds of stroking the bare skin.

“Okay, fine, I won’t shave it,” he swallowed.

“Yay,” you giggled.

“If…” he began and then stopped himself.

“If what?” You asked.

He might as well say it. There was a decent chance you weren’t even gonna remember this the next morning.

“If we were alive at the same time, I would have noticed you. I think I would have liked you very much,” Luke said, covering your hand with his.

You laughed and rolled your eyes. He frowned at your reaction.

“You wouldn’t have, but that’s okay. At least I met you now,” you whispered to him.

“Can I say something and you won’t judge me for it?” You asked him.

He nodded.

You wet your lips before speaking.

“I don’t think my husband was the love of my life,” you covered your face with both your hands.

“Why would I judge you for that?” Luke asked, slightly confused.

“Well, wasn’t Joan the love of your life?” You asked him back.

He swallowed. He had forgotten he had mentioned Joan’s name in passing to you.

“Well… yeah, I guess she was,” he thought.

“That’s so beautiful, you had this epic, tragic love story, and all I have… are just normal, small moments. When he died, I was sad, but it wasn’t even the saddest I had ever felt…” You blinked back tears and stared at the wall.

“What was the saddest?” Luke asked.

He took your hand in his and interlocked your fingers with his. A silent gesture that felt as if he was holding onto you for dear life so you could not drift away from him.

“It’s a little pathetic but… I had a dog named Lily as a kid. I loved her so much, she was this chocolate lab, ya know, she was so beautiful, she slept in my room every night and waited up for me when I came home from school. When I moved away from home, she came with me. I took her on my hippie van and… we just went everywhere together, and then I met my husband.

And ya know, he was allergic to dogs, and it was okay for a while, but when we moved in together, it became a real problem. He said it was him or the dog, and I chose him… I sent Lily to live with my parents. A couple of months later, she died, hit by a car. I remember I couldn’t even leave bed for two days I didn’t eat or drink all I did was sleep and cry over that dog. I think that dog was the first thing I ever loved and the first thing I ever lost.”

You wanted to pull your hand back from Luke’s, but he wouldn’t let you. He just held your hand tighter.

“I was a good wife, Luke. I really- I did so much for him… I don’t want you to think I was a bad wife,” you cried.

The tears couldn’t be stopped. The tears rolled down your cheeks and stained your pillow. Luke finally let go of your hand, and you covered your face once more, feeling disgusted. He hated you. He thought you were pathetic, a loser, a selfish bitch who missed some dog more than her husband. You were sickening. You didn’t belong in a beautiful afterlife; you belonged in the fire depths of some hell, where all the most evil people in the world go.

You felt the bed dip beside you. You removed your hands from your damp face and saw Luke lying down next to you. His clothes discarded, he was left in his boxers and a white undershirt. Before you could admire how strong his thighs were or how muscular his calves looked, or even really register that he was almost naked in your bedroom, he pulled you into his chest. He wrapped his arms around you and held you tightly. He rubbed his thumb over your shoulder. You couldn’t remember the last time someone held you so tightly.

No one has ever held you so tightly.

“I’m sorry,” you swallowed, trying to pull away from him.

He wouldn’t let you.

“Come on, don’t do that, don’t apologize to me, okay?” He spoke into your hair.

You nodded, but you still couldn’t stop crying. You inhaled his smell; you wanted to put his scent in memory.

“You’re a good person, ya know, I knew that the moment I met you,” Luke rubbed your back in small circles.

You didn’t say anything, not sure if you genuinely believed it.

“I don’t think you have it in you to be mean… your life would have been easier if you did, but you’re not…”

You looked up at him and sniffed.

“I don’t think you’re mean either,” you whispered.

He wiped a falling tear from your cheek, “I can be… but I wouldn’t be to you.”

“We haven’t known each other that long, you don’t know that.”

“I would never be mean to you… I couldn’t do it.”

He held your face in his hands like you were made of fine china. He didn’t want to break you.

He leaned forward and kissed your forehead.

Gentle. So, so gentle.

His lips lingered on your forehead.

“If we were alive at the same time, I would have married you in a second,” he swallowed hard, holding you even tighter to him.

You were now lying on top of him. You liked being on top of him like this, although part of you worried you might smother him by accident, but something told you that Luke would welcome that.

“At least we’re dead at the same time... well, kinda.” You smiled, almost hopeful.

He laughed at that. Not a full belly laugh, but an easy-going laugh that made his smile almost shine. You could stare at Luke’s smile for the rest of your time. Just the two of you in a room staring at one another.

You leaned forward, moving to kiss him; you yearned for your lips to connect. To taste him. However, in your drunken state, you missed and laid a kiss on his nose. Luke seemed not to catch on that this was a mistake because when you pulled away, he kissed your nose back.

Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to try to lay a kiss on him when your entire world was spinning.

You lay your head in the crook of his neck and shut your eyes. Luke murmured a song into the top of your head, but you could not recognize it. It managed to drift you off to sleep, and you welcomed it with open arms.

The next morning, you woke up alone with a major headache. Hangovers existed here… right… What a stupid thing to have still exist in heaven. You were tucked into bed with an array of pillows around you. You turned to look at your dresser to see a note, a glass of water, and a pill.

You grabbed the note and read it.

BE RIGHT BACK. DRINK THIS & TAKE THIS ITS ASPRIN. DONT LEAVE CABIN! - LUKE

You read it again and blinked in confusion. You realized he misspelled aspirin…. How did he even get aspirin?

You downed the water and swallowed the pill. You wondered for a moment if you could smoke weed here. You hadn’t smoked weed in almost 40 years…. You wondered if you should ask about it.

You felt bile burn your throat, and you ran to the toilet. Throwing up for a solid 29 seconds. No room for a breath, just vomit. You wiped your mouth and then looked at your throw-up, not even being able to tell what any of the specs of food even were.

You decided to brush your teeth and take a shower. Your headache was pounding less, but you still felt it. The warm water soothed an ache in your back. For a while, you just stayed under the shower until the entire bathroom filled with steam.

You grabbed an old Diana Ross shirt you got at a concert in the '80s and a fresh pair of underwear before going down the steps of your cabin. You grabbed an apple and a box of Lucky Charms. You eat the cereal with no mil,k choosing to just pour it into your mouth.

You lie on the couch watching an episode of Happy Days on your TV. Apparently, the TV played all your favorite television shows on repeat. Neat.

There was a knock on your door interrupting your lazy daze. You got up, not even bothering to put on pants, and you opened the door to see Luke in his snowsuit. He breathed heavily and had a wide smile on his face. His face was red once more, but you weren’t sure if it was from sunburn or just from the cold.

It was snowing again, small white flakes fell from the sky, covering the already blanket of snow covering the grass.

“Get dressed, I gotta show you something,” He huffed out.

You blinked, “What?”

“Just… just get dressed! Put on pants, come on, it’s really important!” He said, jumping up and down.

“Alright, Jesus, just… give me a second.” You waved him off.

You made your way upstairs and put on a pair of sweatpants that you had no idea you even had. You threw on one of your new jackets, a blue trench coat with black star buttons. The inside of the coat was lined with soft wool and fur. You put on some tennis shoes you knew to be from your older years; comfortable and reliable.

You slowly made your way down the stairs.

“Come on!”

Luke grabbed your hand and pulled you outside.

“Luke, slow down, you’re gonna pull my arm out of its socket,” you laughed at his frantic movements.

Finally, he stopped and turned around to you. He put his hands on your arms that were at your sides. He gave you a cheesy grin. You were in a part of the woods between the trail that led to his cabin.

“Okay, close your eyes,” he bit his bottom lip.

“What? Why?” You asked with a frown.

“Come on, please?” He squeezed your arms gently.

You sighed but followed his instructions, shutting your eyes.

He let go of your arms, and you could hear him walk away, his heavy foot steps crackling in the snow. There were moments of quiet; all you could hear was the wind and the sound of a hawk. You clutched your hands together to stop your nervousness.

“Okay! Open your eyes!” Luke called.

You opened them to see him a few feet away from you. In his arms… a chocolate lab. The lab was a decent size, Luke was holding it like it was a puppy but the dog had to have been at least five years old.

You blinked, your face conforming into several different expressions. Luke put the dog down and whistled. That sent the dog running towards you, tackling you to the ground. The air was getting knocked out of your lungs, the dog's wet tongue kissed your cheeks and parts of your chin. You pushed its face away before properly looking at it.

It took you a moment. It had been almost 50 years, but you recognized the small patch of darker hair in the center of her chest that formed into what looked like a flower. The mark being how she got her name

Lily.

“Lily?” You questioned.

The dark barked as if to answer your question. She spun around in a circle, excited, her drool dripping from her mouth.

“Lily!” You cried out, hugging the dog.

She barked once more and licked the outer shell of your ear.

“Oh, sweet girl, I missed you so much!” You kissed her face and scratched behind her ear.

Lily fell on her back to signal she wanted you to scratch her stomach. She always did like that.

“Hello, my girl, hello, hello, hello,” you giggled, scratching her stomach in a circle.

Luke walked closer to the two of you, his hands stuffed in his pockets. A tender smile on his warm features.

“How did… how did… how?” You couldn’t form a thought.

Lily lay her head on your lap, content just to be near you.

“Someone owed me a favor, but it took them forever to find her. Apparently, all dogs do go to heaven. I had her smell one of your t-shirts, and when she did, she went crazy. Barking, spinning around in a circle, and jumping up on me. She missed you a lot,” Luke scratched the top of Lily’s head.

Lily let out a breath through her nose, approving of Luke’s story.

“This is… I don’t… oh my God, Luke!” You cried, tackling him to the ground.

Lily barked at both of you and wagged her tail.

He was about to speak (no doubt about to say something cocky), but before he could, you kissed him. He was clearly surprised because his eyes were wide open. It took him a moment, but he finally shut his eyes and smiled into the kiss. His lips were just as soft as they had felt when he kissed your forehead last night. He rolled over so he was on top. Lily jumped on his back, and he groaned.

You laughed and pulled away, looking at the dog.

“Lily, sit!” You commanded,

The dog did as you said and sat patiently.

“Why… why did you do this for me?” You asked, looking up at Luke.

He looked down at you. He brought a hand up to rub your forehead with his thumb.

“Because you deserve it,” he breathed out.

“You deserve everything you want… and I want to give it all to you,” he swallowed nervously.

You hadn’t seen him this nervous before… You leaned up and kissed him softly.

“You’re really something, Luke,” you said to him.

“You are too,” he whispered and kissed you once more.

How sweet life could be to you… After not having a great love in life, you get one in death, the two of you intertwined, sewn together.

The first time you met Steve, you almost slapped him.

His reputation preceded him. Even your freshman year at Ohio State University, fresh out of rush week, you’d heard plenty about Sigma Chi pledge Steve Harrington. They were singing his praises from day one—he was handsome, a baseball genius, the life of any party. He commanded the attention of any room he stepped into. You were a little sick of him to begin with from how your Delta Gamma sisters wouldn’t shut up about him for two seconds even before that first party.

And when you walked into the Sigma Chi house for the first time, you didn’t even need to be told which one was the Harrington. The world gravitated around him like he was the sun itself, and he seemed to glow like it, too. He was handsome, devastatingly so. His smile was blinding. He had a stupidly good head of hair, gorgeous sun-kissed skin dotted with moles like constellations, and big hazel eyes that made him look deceptively sweet.

You’d met eyes from across the room, and at the time, it had felt like something clicking into place. Two puzzle pieces who had finally found where they belonged. Your breath hitched as he left the group he was talking to and sauntered over, that brilliant smile now directed specifically at you and you alone. Your heart had felt like it might burst from your chest.

“Oh my god,” one of your sisters, Margot, had said, grabbing onto your arm. “He’s coming over here.”

He didn’t even glance at her. He only looked at you. He wore a polo with jeans that fit him just right, a red plastic cup clutched in his large hand. When he reached you, you could smell his cologne, something intoxicating that made your head spin. He really was everything everyone had promised.

And then he opened his mouth.

“Hi,” he’d said, extending a hand towards you. “I’m Steve. And you are fucking beautiful.”

Embarrassingly, you’d giggled like a total fool, given him your hand, and introduced yourself. “Nice to meet you, Steve.”

He’d actually taken your hand and kissed your knuckles, like the prince he absolutely saw himself as. And then, that suave grin turned into something more like a cocky smirk, a look you’d grow to know and loathe. “You know, you look like a girl who deserves the very best,” he’d said. “And, wouldn’t you know it—by sheer coincidence, you’re looking at the best this frat has to offer.”

Okay, a little eye roll worthy, but that wasn’t abnormal for these frat guys. You’d raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? And what could you possibly offer me?”

His smirk had widened, and he moved in, grabbing you by the hip and pulling you against him. “Oh, things beyond your wildest dreams, baby,” he’d murmured, even as you gasped at the sheer audacity of this guy. “Why don’t we go up to my room and I can show you?”

You’d shoved him back by his chest, making him stumble, the beer in his cup sloshing over the sides and onto his light blue shirt. “You’re a fucking perv.”

Steve’s expression had immediately transformed into something harder, all traces of the charming smile from moments ago completely erased. “What the fuck?”

“You don’t get to just walk up and touch me. I don’t even know you.” You’d scoffed, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “Does that actually work for you?”

“Yeah, actually,” he’d said, looking at you with pure distaste now. “With girls who aren’t an uptight cocktease.”

You’d laughed, but only in an attempt to keep yourself from punching this guy square in the jaw. “Oh, wow. Fuck you.”

“Fuck me, huh?” he’d said, that stupid smirk back in place. “You know, that’s a good idea, maybe it would help if I got that stick out of your ass and gave you something else—“

“Oh-kay, let’s go get a drink!” Margot had said, dragging you away before you could land the slap you were winding up. You heard him laughing behind you, the sound loud and infuriating.

“See you around, baby!” he’d called after you. Margot just dug her fingers into your arm, pulling you to a completely different part of the house as fast as she could.

Things with Steve did not improve after that. And, unfortunately for you, you couldn’t escape him. He was everywhere you turned. Not only the golden boy on campus—his photo was used on any and all promotions for the championship winning baseball team—but, soon, also the president of Sigma Chi. And your houses went hand in hand.

Every party you went to, Steve was there, holding court among his adoring subjects. The guys on campus thought he was the coolest guy who ever lived, and the girls were practically stepping over each other for a chance with him. You attempted to keep your distance, but Steve loved annoying you more than he loved the girls begging to go up to his bedroom.

Delta Gamma also partnered with Sigma Chi for just about everything. As the top houses, it was just a given. Every event, every fundraiser, every charity event and mixer and rager. As much as you adored everything about your sorority and had always felt like you’d made the wrong choice, Steve was the one thing that made you question it.

It was no secret, either. Everyone knew you and Steve hated each other. Steve’s frat brothers found it hilarious, while your sisters tried their best to keep you away from each other. You just couldn’t get along—being in each other’s space for too long always ended in disaster. A loud argument, heated insults, or sometimes even a thrown drink, if Steve was feeling extra mouthy that night. You were best kept far away from one another.

You’d grown close with another girl who’d pledged Delta Gamma, Nancy. Nancy was sweet and smart and although you loved all your sisters, you’d clicked with her immediately. Nancy also happened to know Steve well. They’d grown up together, even dated briefly in high school.

“Steve is an asshole,” Nancy had told you, confirming everything you already thought. “Seriously, don’t let him try to charm you. He’s full of it.”

It kind of seemed like you and Nancy were the only ones who saw it, though. Of course there were the girls he’d already scorned, but the vast majority of the Ohio State female student population were head over heels for Steve Harrington. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes every time you saw it.

That would never be you.

Your junior year had just begun, and by the end of September, homecoming season was well underway. Sigma Chi had already partnered with Delta Gamma, a surprise to no one.

What was a surprise was that you had a chance at being crowned queen this year. Homecoming court was something you’d never given much thought to. Your attention was already divided in so many directions—between your classes and honor society, track, event planning and sorority obligations with being Social Chair, and being a TA for the first time this year, you were booked and busy. The crown was the least of your concern. Even now, you didn’t stress about it. Everyone knew your chapter president, Lindsey, would be taking the crown anyway.

The week of homecoming itself was always busy and filled with excitement—stuffed full of events and activities, a good chunk of which you had a hand in planning. But still, courting had begun, and Tommy Hagan had been going all out to catch your attention.

It started with a bouquet of flowers so huge you had to divide them up into three different vases just to display them in a way that didn’t look ridiculous. Then, it was the food. Fruit baskets, a mini cake, so much of your favorite candy and chocolate you had to beg your sisters to eat some of it. The day you walked out of the house to the entire OSU choir serenading you on the front lawn, you’d been utterly speechless.

Tommy was nice enough, you guessed. If you had to partner with someone, he wasn’t the worst choice. That would be Steve Harrington, who, by expectations alone—because Steve didn’t put much effort into anything that wasn’t baseball or getting his dick wet—was courting Lindsey. He didn’t even have to try and he knew it.

There was a new gift or grand gesture from Tommy daily, while Steve had sent a single box of milk chocolates, a half dozen and definitely the cheapest on the shelf even though everyone knew the Harringtons were absolutely loaded—and Lindsey was allergic to dairy. You could tell she was annoyed about it, but she was going to partner with Steve regardless. Every time you brought another elaborate gift into the house, the look she gave you was cold and cutting. It was…awkward.

At least for now, you could push thoughts of homecoming from your brain. It was Saturday night, and you were ready to have some fun. Or at least try to, because you were about to walk right into King Steve’s kingdom.

You’d think you would have gotten used to his presence by now, but he never got any less annoying. It’s not like you could just skip every party. Everyone knew Sigma Chi threw the best parties of any frat on campus. Were you just not supposed to go because the president was a total pain in the ass? You could kiss your social status goodbye real fast.

Sometimes you’d get lucky and wouldn’t see him at all the whole night. Maybe just a flash of his stupid hair, or the sound of his laugh from another room. A glimpse at his cocky smirk as he led some poor girl up to his room. And other nights, he seemed hell bent on annoying you as much as possible.

You really, really hoped for the former tonight. You walked into the house with Nancy and Margot, the bass already thumping, the place overrun with college students in various states of intoxication. You looked good, you knew you did. Tiny skirt that showed off your legs, a top that displayed just enough chest to have guys staring every time they walked past. Not that that was hard.

“Do you want me to get us drinks?” Nancy asked, leaning over to yell over the music right in your ear. You nodded, and she gave you a soft smile before pushing her way through to the kitchen.

There was no sign of Steve so far, which you hoped was a good omen. Your eyes scanned the room, mostly familiar faces, but a decent amount of freshmen you hadn’t gotten to know well yet were there, too.

Nancy was back quickly, walking through the crowd holding the two red cups up high in an attempt to not spill them or get anything on her white blouse. She let out a sigh of relief when she finally reached you, handing you a drink.

“It’s a total madhouse in there,” she said. “Like, more than usual.”

“How many new pledges are there this year?” you asked, taking a sip of your beer. You linked hands with Nancy and began pushing through to the living room. You eventually found a place to stand against the wall, surveying the rest of the party.

“I have no idea,” she said. Her curls were pulled back on top with a bow, and she held her drink between both delicate hands. “It’s gotta be more than last year, right?”

It certainly seemed like it. The Sigma Chi parties were always intense, but it felt like you could barely move. “With Harrington in charge this year, who knows.”

Nancy rolled her eyes. “God, I know. When I heard he was president, I almost thought about dropping out.”

You laughed, shaking your head and taking another sip of your beer. “At least in two more years, I’ll never have to see him again.”

“Lucky you,” Nancy grumbled. “I’m sure I’ll always be seeing him at some point when I’m back in Hawkins for holidays. It’s like I can’t escape him.”

The sound of your name being called caught your attention. You looked around, looking for the source—and saw Tommy Hagan on his way over, hand held up in a wave and a bright smile on his freckled face.

“Here comes your loverboy,” Nancy mumbled into her cup, looking away like she was minding her own business.

“Hey,” Tommy said as he reached you. He wasn’t as bad as Steve, but they were best friends and looked like they could have shared a wardrobe. He wore a dark red polo and jeans, one hand now in his pocket and the other holding his own drink. “Wow, you look beautiful.”

“Thanks,” you smiled politely. “Um, thanks for the flowers this morning. Blue this time, huh?”

“Yeah,” he said, his smile somewhat sheepish as he ran a hand through his short hair. “I was thinking, like, a different bouquet for every color of the rainbow, or something.”

You nodded, eyebrows raised. “Ooh, yeah. I see the vision.”

A soft blush colored the pale skin on his cheeks. “Did you like them?”

He was being so sweet, you couldn’t help but soften. You weren’t interested in Tommy romantically, but you were happy to partner with him if that’s what he wanted. “They were beautiful. Seriously.” His eyes lit up, and at the fear of yet another bouquet to make your bedroom look even more like a greenhouse, you added, “But I am starting to run out of room to put vases.”

Tommy laughed softly, looking down at the floor. “Yeah. Maybe I should try to get creative.”

A shout came from the sliding glass back door, drawing all of your attention behind him. “Hagan! Come out here and show the new brothers how a keg stand is done!”

Tommy turned back to you. “Sorry. Duty calls, I guess,” he said, although he didn’t look all that sorry. Sigma Chi took their keg stands very seriously. “I’ll catch you around later though, yeah? You’re not planning to turn in early or anything?”

“I’ll be here,” you confirmed, drinking from your cup again. “Go show ‘em, Hagan.”

His grin only widened. “See you later, beautiful.”

You watched him go, laughing softly as he immediately switched gears from gentleman to frat bro the second he reached the back door.

“Please let him be done with the bouquets,” Nancy said as soon as he was gone, done acting like she hadn’t been paying attention the whole time. “I’ve already got half of the flowers in my room.”

The party went on, and eventually you lost Nancy to the crowd. She’d started seeing this guy a few weeks ago, Vance, a transfer student who had her totally smitten like you’d never seen before. While Nancy had always been your partner at these parties—more like your shield from Steve Harrington—she’d started wanting to spend more time with Vance, and who were you to stop her?

It wasn’t until later in the night, when you were leaning against the wall with yet another drink, that you finally saw him. Or heard him, rather, because his obnoxious loud voice and laugh usually entered a room before he did. At least he had a warning bell, you thought.

When Steve entered the living room with his friends, telling some story that was definitely not funny enough to warrant how hard they were laughing, you thought about making a run for it. But then his eyes locked with yours from across the room, and he shot you that stupid fucking smirk that made you irritated immediately. And he knew it.

He stared at you even while he kept talking to his friends, and you stared back. He liked to do these little power plays. Even the women around him weren’t drawing his attention away. And finally, much to your disappointment, he turned away long enough to excuse himself before walking straight for you.

You really regretted not making your escape while you had the chance.

Steve greeted you by your last name, something none of the other guys did, since they cared about actually impressing you. “How sweet of you to grace my house with your presence. I almost didn’t expect you to show.”

You scoffed. “Just because you’re president this year doesn’t mean you’re special—“

“Actually, it does,” he smirked. “This is my kingdom, baby.” He held his arms out, as if the opulent house crammed full of sweaty, drunk college students was supposed to impress you. “And you’re talking to the king.”

You couldn’t have rolled your eyes harder if you tried. “Do you even hear yourself when you talk? It’s like everything you say comes from the official douchebag handbook.”

His smirk only widened. “Maybe it does. Maybe I even wrote it.”

“Steve, I’m not even sure you can read.” You shook your head, looking off to the side, searching for any lifeline out of this conversation with your least favorite person on earth. “Why are you over here bothering me, anyway? Don’t you have some poor girl to flatter long enough to get in her pants?”

“I’d much rather get under that skirt,” he quipped. When your head snapped back in his direction, eyes practically glowing with the fire behind them and the promise of pouring your drink all over his dark blue shirt and stupid khakis, he held his hands up in mock surrender. “Okay, okay,” he laughed. “I came over because you looked fucking miserable. Why do you always look so bored? You’re at a party.”

“I’m not bored,” you retorted simply.

“Could’ve fooled me,” he said, leaning a hand against the wall next to you. “You look pissed off to even be here.”

“That’s because you’re talking to me.”

Steve laughed, which was maybe your least favorite sound in the world. “Every time I see you here, you look bored. Like you think you’re too good to even be here.”

“Well, unfortunately, Sigma Chi has the most annoying guy possible as their president, so…” you trailed off, a hand on your hip. You took a sip from your beer again, but you would need a lot more alcohol to make Steve’s presence bearable.

He hummed, as if he were considering it. “I don’t know. I think you feel like you’re above all this.” He gestured around the room. “Why would you join a sorority if you hate parties so bad?”

“I don’t hate parties,” you argued. And it was true—you didn’t. You could have plenty of fun at a party. You were Social Chair.

“Well, whatever it is, you’re bringing down the mood,” he said. He downed the rest of his own drink, sitting the empty plastic cup on the mantel, where it would surely sit until some poor pledges were tasked with cleaning the whole place tomorrow.

“I don’t think anyone cares what I’m doing,” you muttered. “Other than you, for some fucking reason.”

Steve grinned again. “I know what you need.”

“Yeah?” You raised your eyebrows. “Is it for you to leave me alone and never speak to me again? Because I could agree with that.”

“You need to get high.”

That made you pause. “What?”

His smile grew. “I think you need to loosen up. Like, a lot.” He pointed a thumb over his shoulder, back towards the staircase. “I could roll us a joint. I wanted to go smoke anyway.”

You just blinked at him. “You’re—“ You were genuinely stunned. “You’re inviting me to go up to your room and smoke? This isn’t, like, some weird attempt to have sex, right? Because that is never gonna happen—“

“No, Jesus,” he laughed. “I just think you need to stop being so damn uptight for once. It would help, believe me.”

“I’ve smoked before, I’m not some prude,” you mumbled, because you knew that’s exactly what Steve saw you as. “If you’re offering, why can’t you just, like…roll me one and bring it back down here?”

“I keep the good shit hidden in my room,” he shrugged. “Otherwise, these assholes would steal it all. They don’t need to know about it.”

You hesitated, because no matter how badly you wanted to accept the invitation for some free weed, it came with a worse cost—spending time one on one with Steve Harrington. He looked at you expectantly while you looked around the room, biting the inside of your cheek as you fought with yourself over it.

“Fine,” you said finally. “But we smoke, and then I’m coming right back down here and finding Nancy.”

“Deal,” he smirked. “At least you’ll be more fun. We have a reputation here, you know.”

You rolled your eyes yet again as he turned, leading the way back to the staircase. The crowd always seemed to part for Steve like he was true royalty, a deep seated respect that you personally would never understand. Your eyes darted around to every face you passed, absolutely mortified at the idea of someone seeing you following him upstairs, but no one seemed to notice.

The polished wood of the banister was smooth beneath your palm as you followed. You’d never even been up these stairs at all, the second floor a total mystery you had never been too eager to uncover. Steve’s shoes thudded against the shining hardwood floors, passing room after room occupied with couples, some of them not even bothering to close the door all the way. You scrunched your face up in disgust at one particularly shameless makeout session with the bedroom door wide open.

Steve reached a room at the end of the hall, turning to look at you over his shoulder before turning the doorknob, as if it were some grand reveal. You had to admit—only to yourself—but you were a little curious about what waited on the other side.

You trailed into the room behind him, closing the door behind you. You looked around as Steve kneeled by his bed, pulling out a shoebox. The bedroom was neat, bed made, clothes put away besides the ones piled in the laundry hamper. There was a desk with a lamp, soft light shining over a mess of papers and textbooks. His dresser was cluttered with hair products and a few bottles of expensive cologne. There were a few posters tacked to the walls, mostly sports related, a few of scantily clad women, and the year’s OSU baseball schedule. He had a bookshelf against one wall, holding his textbooks and a staggering amount of baseball trophies. A framed team photo sat on one shelf, along with one of all the Sigs taken at the beginning of the semester.

“Having fun?” Steve asked, making you jump slightly as you turned to look at him. He was sitting on his bed now, the shoebox open next to him. He was smiling at you as his fingers worked dexterously to roll the joint. “Didn’t know you could be so nosy.”

You scoffed, but your cheeks felt a little hot. “Shouldn’t have stuff sitting out if you don’t want people to look at it.”

He laughed. “You can look at whatever you want.” He licked along the seam of the joint, perfectly rolled. “Go ahead and search the whole room, if you want. The porn mags are in that drawer.” He nodded towards his nightstand.

You scrunched your face up. “Ew. You’re so gross.”

Steve laughed again as he put his baggie of weed and papers back in the box, pushing it beneath his bed again. You took a seat on the plush carpet, back leaning against his dresser. He placed a muscular arm on the end of the bed frame and lowered himself to the floor to sit across from you.

“You can do the honors if you want,” he offered, holding the joint out towards you.

There was a moment of hesitation before you reached forward, taking it from his fingers. “I don’t understand why you’re being nice to me,” you said, brows furrowed even as you placed the joint between your lips, flicking the lighter and holding the flame to the end.

“I’m not being nice to you,” he said. He still had that same look he always had when he looked at you, like it was one of his life’s greatest joys to piss you off, to get you worked up and upset. “Like I said, you’re ruining my party. Can’t have word spreading around campus that people are here looking bored. Sigs are the party kings of campus, and that’s not changing, especially not with me in charge.”

“Oh, right,” you said, exhaling that first cloud of smoke. “The new ruler can’t appear weak, and all that.”

“Exactly,” he smirked. He watched you take another hit, then leaned forward, accepting the joint back from you and taking a long pull himself.

“I don’t think anyone pays as much attention to me as you do, Steve,” you said. That warm feeling was starting to settle over you, and he was right—you were relaxing already. It was the first time you’d been in a room with him and didn’t want to scream or punch him.

His gaze was heavy on you as he hit the joint, looking at you with that intensity he always seemed to hold when you were in a room together. But now it was making you fidget, the room suddenly feeling hot.

“Who says I pay attention to you?” he finally asked. His voice was lower now, and when he leaned forward to pass the joint back to you, your fingers brushed together. It sent a jolt through your body, and you jerked your hand back quickly, bringing it to your lips to give yourself time to think before you spoke again.

“It’s kind of obvious.” Smoke billowed from your lips as you responded. The room was growing thick with it, a haze surrounding you both in and outside of your head. “Always staring at me, coming over just to annoy me…”

“It’s fun,” he admitted, laughing softly. He ran a hand through his hair, starting to lose its shape and flop into his wide hazel eyes. “Every time you get mad, you get that cute little furrow between your eyebrows, your lips get all pouty, and you roll your eyes about a million times.”

You paused—and then giggled, leaning forward to pass the joint back. “Seriously? I told you, you pay attention to me.”

Your laughter was starting to get Steve going too. He took another pull. “I mean, I notice things that are nice to look at. I’m only a man, after all.”

The laughter felt like something you could no longer control, bubbling up in your chest and filling Steve’s bedroom much like the smoke in the air. It was contagious, the two of you laughing together as you finished off the joint.

“You know you always say the cheesiest stuff possible,” you giggled, your body fully relaxed into the floor at this point. Your limbs felt heavy in the best way, like every bit of tension in your muscles had faded. “It’s kind of amazing how everyone thinks you’re so cool, because you’re kind of a total dork.”

Steve laughed hard, his head tilting back. You couldn’t help but notice the strong column of his throat, the way the muscles flexed in his neck and chest. “I have to get creative,” he said, fixing his eyes back on yours once again. “I aim to keep you entertained, after all.”

“I guess you do,” you smiled. “Annoyed, yes. Bored? Never.”

He watched you for a minute, something thoughtful seeming to cross his face. Your eyes locked in that way they often did, just staring. Seeing each other. Steve always had a way of making you feel like he could see right through you, and it made you wonder if he felt the same about you, too.

The fact that you were enjoying Steve’s company seemed to strike you all at once. It was confusing—maybe concerning—but for now, you were too high to care. He’d been right. This was what you needed.

Steve nudged your foot with his own. “I’ve never seen you look so peaceful,” he grinned. “Who knew there was more to you than being stuck up and…snobby.”

You snorted a laugh. “Fuck you, Harrington.”

The grin on his face grew. “Oh, would that help you relax some more?” he said, looking a little too proud of himself. “Because I’d be happy to help you with that, too.”

Your eyes widened, and Steve was pretty sure you were about to tell him off again—but then you tossed your head back, laughing harder than he’d ever heard from you. “Oh my god. In your dreams.”

Steve smirked, that same look you’d grown to know as cocky and insufferable, but right now, you didn’t seem to mind it. It was endearing, almost. Handsome, maybe. “Baby, you let me fuck you, and you’ll be dreaming about it for months.”

It’s like everything he said, every stupid, corny line that would usually have you irritated, was suddenly the funniest thing you’d ever heard. “You really think you’re god’s gift to women, huh?”

“I know I am.” He tilted his head to the side, body relaxed as he leaned back against his bed frame. “Never heard a single complaint.”

“That’s because girls know how to fake it,” you mumbled. “Guys can never tell.”

“Oh, I can tell.” His hands flexed where they rested on his thighs, the veins beneath his skin suddenly extremely distracting. “Some guys can’t, sure. But I know the difference between some fake pornstar moans to boost some pathetic dude’s ego, and how it really feels to make a girl fall apart.”

Your cheeks felt hot now. Your whole body did, even though your outfit didn’t cover much skin. “You’re not that good in bed.”

“How would you know?” he asked, looking at you with genuine curiosity and something like delight.

“I can just tell,” you answered quickly, looking down at the soft beige carpet beneath your bare thighs. “Guys never care about making girls feel good. Just themselves.” That’s how it had been with every guy you’d ever slept with. Not a single one had been different.

“I’m not other guys,” Steve said, voice lower now. It made your breath hitch in your throat, slowly raising your head to look at him. He was still smiling at you, but there was something different behind his eyes now, something heavy and burning.

You returned his smile, laughing softly even as you felt your heart speed up in your chest. “Yeah, well. I don’t think any guy is different in that department.”

“You wanna bet?”

That almost earned him another eye roll (playful this time, but still)—until he shifted, moving over to sit next to you. You tensed as you felt his shoulder brush against yours, feeling both electricity and heat even through the fabric of your clothes.

“Steve…”

His large hand came up slowly. Now he was looking at you in a way you’d never seen from him before. The familiar cocky smirk was gone, his soft lips parted slightly as his eyes raked over every part of you like he wanted to memorize the way you looked right now. Your chest rose and fell with your heavy breaths, watching his intense gaze travel slowly, taking his time. From your eyes, to your lips, down your throat. Lower, to your chest, but not in the pervy way he’d done in the past. No, it wasn’t that—it was…reverent. Like he was seeing something holy.

His hand finally moved, brushing your hair back softly. It made you draw in a sharp breath, chills spreading across the skin of your neck where he’d made contact.

“I like you like this,” he said, voice low and quiet. His eyes were locked on the side of your neck, where he’d just touched.

It took you a second to find your voice, although it came out more like a whisper. “Like…what?”

“Happy,” he said. His gaze finally moved to your eyes. “Comfortable. Real.” His eyes dropped to your lips. “You know, you’re really pretty when you smile like that.”

You were pretty sure you had to be dreaming, because in no world were you sitting in Steve’s bedroom while he looked at you like that. Like he wanted to kiss you. Like he was actually moving in, leaning in slowly to close the distance as if giving you all the chance in the world to run away—

You didn’t. Your eyes fell closed and then, with the force of a meteor crashing into the earth despite how soft and gentle it was, his lips met yours. His hand rested against the side of your neck while yours moved up to grip onto his bicep. He tilted his head slightly and your lips slotted together perfectly, moving together with a practiced kind of confidence and a sense of rightness you never should have felt with Steve Harrington ever.

There was no time to think with the way he was kissing you, slow and deep but utterly consuming. It was careful at first, exploratory. It felt so good, your lips moving with his like it was second nature. Steve was a good kisser. You knew he had plenty of experience, and it’s not like you didn’t, but he was taking the lead and you were happy to let him.

His tongue traced along your bottom lip, and you parted your lips on instinct. His tongue met yours with a soft groan that had you digging your nails into his arm through the sleeve of his shirt, pulling him closer.

Steve laid you back on the soft carpet with way more care than you’d ever seen him show anything. He braced himself on a strong arm planted next to your head, never breaking the kiss for a single second. His body hovered over yours, one knee moving between your thighs where your skirt had fallen up around your waist, pressing against you through your panties. His free hand rested on your hip now, holding onto you. You let out a soft moan against his lips, delirious from every point of contact, rocking your hips down against his leg to feel that friction you craved so desperately.

He groaned, moving from your mouth to kiss across your jaw, down to your neck, his lips brushing over the sensitive skin, giving you chills. Your breaths were coming in hard and heavy now, holding onto his broad shoulders like a lifeline, eyes closed as you felt every sensation he provided.

“So pretty,” he murmured against your neck, grinding his knee against you to meet every needy movement. He nipped lightly at the sensitive spot below your ear. You could feel his smirk against your skin when you gasped, hips bucking against him in response. It made no sense how he knew exactly what to do, like he somehow knew your body better than you did.

“Steve…” you whimpered, the only word your brain could conjure.

“That’s it, baby,” he said. His breath was hot against your skin, sucking at your neck, biting then soothing the sting with his tongue. “Let me hear you. Gonna make you feel so good.” 

The hand on your hip slowly slid up the smooth skin of your side, rucking your shirt up. You sat up long enough to help him pull it off completely, leaving you in the lacy bra you wore beneath. He wasted no time lowering his head to mouth at the top of your breasts, practically burying his face in them, kissing and sucking and biting at the exposed skin.

“Always had the best fucking tits,” he moaned, losing himself in a way you could only describe as worshipful. He reached behind you to unhook your bra easily, pulling it away and tossing it to the side. He pulled back to look down at your body, the look in his eyes one of pure hunger. “Actually insane fuckin’ pair, Jesus Christ.”

You laughed, because yeah, there was the Steve you knew. That laugh turned into a gasp, then a moan, when he leaned down and wrapped his lips around one of your nipples.

“Fuck,” you gasped, hands shooting up to tangle in his hair. “Oh my god—“

He swirled his tongue around the stiff peak, groaning as he sucked on it. He grabbed the other, massaging your breast in his large hand, slightly calloused from years of pitching. The friction on your sensitive, hardened nipple was maddening, back arching and pushing your tits further into his face.

He never let up with the movements against your soaked cunt, either, even as he switched back and forth between your tits. Your clit was swollen and throbbing and begging for more, and you were pretty sure your panties were utterly ruined. You could feel the pleasure building in your core with an intensity that felt like it would completely take your breath away.

You’d never had a guy make you cum in your life, and now Steve Harrington was about to do it in five minutes, fully clothed, with his fucking thigh?

Steve could sense the tension coiling in your body—and he pulled away, taking away every delicious ounce of pleasure he’d been building.

Your eyes opened, still heavy lidded and hazy. “What—?”

“My bed,” he said, and you noticed he was breathing hard, too. “Not gonna fuck you for the first time on the floor.”

You didn’t give yourself time to think about his words. He helped you up, then pulled you into another frantic kiss as you both shed clothes as fast as you could with your lips still attached, utterly desperate for each other.

Steve’s mattress creaked softly as you fell back onto it, now in nothing but your panties. You moved back towards his pillows, leaning up on your elbows as you watched him.

God, he looked good with his shirt off, you absolutely hated to admit. He had thick hair covering his chest, which was muscular and strong, but his stomach was still a little soft. His skin was sun-kissed, those moles dotting his body all over. The desire to kiss every single one of them surged suddenly within you, but you pushed the thought away. That was…intimate.

His gaze remained heavy on you as he worked his belt open without drawing away his attention once. The way he looked at you was like a starving man preparing for a feast. Your thighs were slightly parted, and he didn’t miss how damp your panties were. For him.

Finally down to his boxer briefs alone, you could see more of him than you ever had before. He was fully hard, the outline of his dick visible as it strained against the thin, snug material.

And the rumors were true.

“Jesus,” you breathed. That cocky smirk returned to his face as he watched your wide-eyed stare. Truthfully, he was used to that reaction. “You’re…”

“I know, baby,” he purred, crawling onto the bed over you. He leaned down, peppering kisses along your legs as he moved higher along your body. “It’ll fit. I’ll be careful. ‘m gonna take care of you like you deserve.”

It felt like you were melting into the soft sheets and comforter surrounding you. Steve was taking his time, placing hot, open mouthed kisses against your calf, his hand roaming up the other leg in time with his mouth. He rose higher, over your knee, up the inside of your thigh.

He laid on his stomach between your legs, kissing and nipping all along the sensitive skin of both inner thighs. Your legs trembled. The sight of him there, with his mouth all over you, was almost too overwhelming to even take in. Your head dropped against his pillows, just giving in to his every desire, your body coming alive with every touch. Trusting him.

“You’re so wet for me,” he breathed in pure admiration. His nose nuzzled against your core through the thin material, and you drew in a sharp gasp. He looked up at you from between your legs, fingers moving to dip beneath the waistband of your panties. “Has anyone ever tasted you before?”

You froze as you realized what he was asking you, what he was planning to do. By the time you found your words, he’d already slipped the delicate material down and off your body. You shuddered as you felt his breath against your pussy, cool against the wetness there, for him.

“I—“ You jolted when you felt him rub his nose against your folds, breathing in the intoxicating scent of you. Your whole body was flushed and hot. “…No.”

Steve groaned. The idea of being the first to pleasure you like this had his cock throbbing between his body and the mattress. “Fuckin’ idiots,” he grumbled, drinking in the sight of you for a little longer before he finally moved in, dragging his tongue against your cunt, moaning like he’d never tasted anything better. “You have the perfect fuckin’ pussy. Tastes so sweet.”

Your hips jerked against his mouth, crying out at that first unfamiliar contact. You heard his low chuckle, but there was no humor behind it, just pure want. He dove in, devouring you properly.

The feeling of his tongue against you was more intense than you’d anticipated. Your fingers tangled in his perfect hair, making a mess of it, pulling just hard enough to earn a groan from his chest that vibrated against your clit. You were nearly seeing stars already, hips rocking up against his mouth as he flicked his tongue against the swollen nub, sucking gently before moving down to your hole. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he was pulling you apart piece by piece until you could hardly stand it.

You’d heard of this before, of course you had. Your sorority sisters had mentioned it a few times, and you’d seen it in that trashy porno you, Nancy, and Carol had spent the night giggling at after sharing a joint and some vodka crans. But you always thought of it as a myth. No man you’d ever been with had even offered, even if you’d gone down on him first. You figured it was something guys just didn’t do, or at least something they didn’t want to do.

Not Steve, apparently, because he was worshipping you like he could have spent hours with his face buried between your legs. His skilled tongue worked against you in all the right ways, moaning against you and grinding his hips against the bed, even harder if you tugged on his hair, which you were quickly learning he liked.

“Steve—“ you gasped, body writhing and arching beneath him. “Oh my god, I—-“

“That’s it,” he praised, pulling away from you just long enough to speak, eyes glazed and lips and chin shining with your wetness, before diving in again. “Doing so good for me, sweetheart. You’re so fucking hot.”

You whimpered when you felt his thick finger pressing against your entrance, moaning as he pushed inside while his mouth focused on your clit again. With how wet you were, he slid inside easily, fucking you before quickly adding a second finger. He curled them deep inside, pressing against something that nearly had you screaming his name loud enough for the whole party to hear.

“Steve!” you gasped, one hand still tangled in his hair while the other gripped onto the pillow, feeling like you would actually float away if you didn’t hold on. The pleasure he was giving you was nearly overwhelming, your body beginning to tremble harder as that coil tightened again, faster and more intense this time. He slipped in a third, fucking you deep, stretching you around his thick fingers.

“Gotta get you ready for me,” he panted, dragging his tongue through your folds one more time just to taste you. “Fuck. You’re so good, gonna take me so well, every fuckin’ inch, I know you will. Gonna stretch so perfectly around my cock.”

A whine crawled its way from your throat, hips rocking against his fingers as he fucked you deep with them, pressing against that bundle of nerves that had you losing your mind. “Steve…Steve…oh fuck, I’m—“

He didn’t let up with his fingers for a single second. But it was when he wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking, while his fingers thrusted in hard and deep, that made it finally snap.

Your vision went white, your body tensing and mouth dropping open in a scream that was silent at first, before you let out what were probably the most pornstar-worthy sounds you’d ever made in your life. “Steve! Oh, fuck!”

Steve groaned at the sound, lapping up every bit of you, letting you grind your pussy against his tongue and working you through every shuddering aftershock until your body went limp beneath him. When he finally pulled back, you fully expected him to look up at you with that look he almost always wore, the one that made him look so proud of himself, so punchable. But instead he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before sucking his fingers clean greedily, looking down at your body with that same heated, wanting expression.

He sat up on his knees. You didn’t think it was possible before but he was even harder now, a wet spot on his boxers at the tip of his cock where he’d been absolutely dripping for you. His thumbs hooked into the waistband, pushing down just enough for you to get a glimpse of the hair that disappeared below.

“You ready for me?” he asked, voice a low rumble.

You let out a shaky breath, looking up at him with wide eyes. “…Yeah.”

Steve smirked down at you and pushed the material down in one go. His cock sprung free—and it was even more impressive than it looked before. He was thick and long, a slight right curve, vein prominent along the underside. His tip was flushed red like he was real desperate, and glistening from the precum he’d been leaking the whole time he was taking care of you. Another drop was beading at his slit. You’d never had a man look like he wanted you this bad.

You knew you were staring, and Steve certainly saw it, too. “See something you like, baby?”

You let out a breathless laugh, but truthfully, you were in no position to crack a joke or even deny it. You simply watched as he shed the last bit of clothing completely, leaving you both completely bare in his bed.

He leaned over you and reached to open the bedside drawer. There really were porn mags in there, which might have made you laugh if you couldn’t feel that thick length twitching against your thigh. He grabbed a condom and shoved the drawer closed, sitting back up on his knees. He ripped the foil packet open with his teeth and rolled it onto his cock.

When he leaned over your body again, one arm braced near your shoulder and the other stroking his cock slowly, your heart began to pound fast. There was that brief moment of I’m really doing this, right now, with him, but you’d never wanted anything more in your life.

Steve lined the head of his cock up with your entrance. You were still soaked, so he wasn’t worried, but you were. You’d heard rumors of how some girls couldn’t even take him, only getting him halfway in before giving up and jerking him off instead. You hadn’t believed them, because starting a rumor about the size of his dick was absolutely something you could see Steve doing. But now you were here in his bed, seeing firsthand that it was very true.

He traced his cock up and down through your folds, coating himself in that slick wetness, showing a surprising amount of care. He placed hot, gentle kisses along your jaw as he did, voice a soft, low rumble in your ear.

“I’ll go slow,” he promised, lips brushing against your skin. “You don’t like it, we don’t have to. But I’ve got you, baby. You’re so good, I think you can take it.”

You could hear the need in his voice, how badly he needed you to let him fuck you. But you also knew he was true to his word.

But, god, you wanted to take all of him. To show him you could, to feel him buried deep. To make him fall apart.

Steve kissed his way back to your lips, kissing you slow and deep, tongue massaging against yours. You felt the sting of the thick head of his cock pushing inside you, and you let out a soft whimper into the kiss. He moaned against you and pushed in just a little deeper.

“That’s it,” he whispered between kisses. He grabbed your thigh with his left hand now, spreading you wide for him. “Doin’ so good, baby, letting me in.” He rolled his hips in shallow thrusts, just that little bit inside of you, sinking in another inch with every slow, deliberate thrust, working you open.

Your nails dug into his shoulders, but he kept your attention on him, entirely on the way he was kissing you. You weren’t sure why or how but it was working, his slow, languid kiss distracting you from the sharp sting where he was stretching you around the girth of him, coaxing your body to relax.

The feeling of being filled was like nothing else. Sure, you’d had plenty of sex, but Steve made you feel absolutely stuffed full before he was even completely inside. He held your thigh up, keeping you open for him, your flexibility not lost on him. He rolled his hips in a few more slow thrusts—and then you felt his hips pressed flush against you.

“Christ,” he breathed, pulling back just enough to lean his forehead against yours. “So perfect, baby, you fuckin’—took it all, Jesus—“

You’d never heard Steve sound so utterly wrecked. He rolled his hips against you a few times, just enjoying the feeling of being completely sheathed inside your tight heat. And fuck, you were stretched around him perfectly, tight and hot. You felt like absolute heaven around his cock.

His cock throbbed inside you, so hard you could feel it. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, palms rubbing over his hot skin, a thin sheen of sweat coating it from the sheer effort of holding back from pounding into you.

“Steve,” you whimpered. Your cunt fluttered around him, and he dropped his head to your shoulder with a broken moan.

“Yeah?” he rasped. His hips rocked lightly against you, betraying his desperation.

“You can…” You gasped as the coarse hair at his base rubbed against your clit, still so sensitive but aching for him again. “…You can move.”

Steve moaned again, placing a few hot kisses against your neck as if thanking you. Finally he pulled his hips back, slowly withdrawing almost fully. Only his tip remained, and you could have cried at the loss of that perfect full feeling. But then he sank back in—slow at first, filling you to the brim again. Your desperate sounds of pleasure mixed together in the hot, charged air of his bedroom, a symphony intertwined much like your bodies.

“Shit,” he cursed. He set a careful rhythm, every thrust measured and slow and deep. “You’re taking me so fucking good. Fuuuuck. That pussy is fucking unreal.”

You could barely think straight. Your entire world narrowed down to the feeling of Steve inside of you, stretching you open perfectly. The sting was still there, but it was quickly fading into pure ecstasy with every movement of his hips. Your body was adapting to him like it was made for it.

Hands tangled in his hair again, you pulled him down into another messy kiss, all tongue and desperation, sloppy and hungry and hot. He groaned loudly into it, hips rutting into you faster.

Whines and whimpers and keening moans were spilling from your lips with little control. Your hips moved in time with his thrusts, meeting him every time. His cock was deeper than you thought possible, brushing against that spot that quickly had you gasping and babbling complete nonsense.

“Feels so good Steve, oh fuck, oh god, please don’t stop, don’t fucking stop I’m gonna cum again, Steve please, oh god—!”

Every word that tumbled from your lips was like fuel to the fire of his intense need. He couldn’t hold back anymore, couldn’t worry about if he might hurt you, too lost in the feeling of your body wrapped around him. His hips rocked against yours in a frantic pace now, his breaths coming in ragged pants, eyes locked on the way your tits bounced with the force of his thrusts. You arched your back and he leaned down to wrap his lips around a nipple again, moaning as he laved his tongue over it, eyes closed and completely pussydrunk, all because of you.

He sucked hard on your nipple one more time before letting go with a wet pop and sitting up on his knees. He held onto your waist and used your body, pulling you down onto his cock with every rough snap of his hips. His eyes were locked on the sight, watching himself disappear into your perfect cunt, seeing you stretch around him, take him whole.

“Holy fuck,” he panted. The sight of the muscles in his arms and chest flexing as he took what he needed from you, watching you with such heat, made you feel utterly delirious. He looked powerful and strong, like an absolute god. “Jesus. Look how you take me, baby, fuck. Knew you’d be good, but—“ His hips stuttered, eyes rolling back for a second. “—shit, holy fuck—“

“Baby,” you gasped, grabbing onto the pillow above your head. Your cunt was tightening, throbbing around him, soaking his cock. The sound of him driving into you was loud and obscene—the slick, wet sounds, the sound of his skin slapping against yours. You might have felt a little self conscious if you could think about anything other than his cock coaxing that second orgasm from your trembling body. “I can’t—oh god, Steve, please…”

“You can do it,” he was nearly begging now, his cock beginning to twitch within your tight walls, so close to his own end but determined to get you there first. “Come on, baby, give it to me. Let me feel it. Cum all over my cock, show me how good it feels, how much you like getting fucked by me.”

You turned your head, biting down on a pillow you held to your face in an effort to muffle the scream that ripped from your lungs. Your body arched, cunt clenching around him as wave after wave of overwhelming, perfect pleasure washed over you. Your ears were ringing, moaning and gasping and babbling his name again and again.

“Shit!” Steve cursed, hips pounding into you reckless and fast. “That’s it, god yeah, let me feel it—oh fuck—you’re so good, so fucking good baby, letting me fuck you like this, squeezing around me—shit—oh baby, gonna make me—gonna make me fuckin’ cum—“

His body pitched forward over yours, bracing himself on an arm and burying his face in your neck. His cock buried deep in you, hips snapping in a few more frantic, shallow thrusts before he tensed, his groan muffled against your skin as he spilled into the condom, repeating your name over and over, body shaking with the intensity.

Your head was spinning. You could hear your heart beating in your ears. Steve’s body was heavy on top of you, your sweat-slicked skin pressed together, as he tried to catch his breath. It was a minute of heavy silence before he finally slid his softening cock out of you, collapsing onto his back.

The loss of that glorious full feeling was disappointing, to say the least. But as Steve removed the condom from his spent cock, tying it off and tossing it into his trash can, the moment finally, properly, broke.

And you realized you were naked in Steve Harrington’s bed. That you had fucked him.

The effects of the weed seemed to have worn off, leaving you feeling suddenly cold and exposed and panicked. Even as you began to freak out more and more, Steve looked totally fine, laying back against the headboard with an arm behind his head. His chest still rose and fell with heavy breaths, skin still shining with sweat, but he looked satisfied. Proud of himself in that way that always pissed you off, but especially now.

“So,” he said, and like so many times before, he’d ruined it all the moment he opened his mouth. “You let me fuck you after all, huh?”

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered, sitting up and reaching for your clothes. You felt like you couldn’t stand to be exposed like this to him for another second, holding every article of clothing you grabbed to your chest until you found it all.

Steve laughed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. He didn’t seem to have any qualms about being totally naked in front of you, comfortable in his own skin the way he always was. “Those panties might be ruined. They were pretty soaked. You can leave them here with me, if you want.” He grinned wider. “I’ll keep them safe. Won’t even wash ‘em.”

“You’re a pig,” you spat back at him. He wasn’t exactly wrong, though. You didn’t want to put them back on, but you weren’t about to walk out of this room wearing that tiny skirt with nothing underneath.

“But was I right?”

“About what?” you asked as you hooked your bra, roughly pulling your shirt back on. The scowl on your face was a permanent fixture at this point, which was amusing to him.

“That I’m good?” he raised his eyebrows, and the grin on his face told you he knew the real answer no matter what you said in response.

“You weren’t that good,” you mumbled. You pulled your skirt back onto your hips, grabbing your shoes.

Steve laughed. “Oh, come on. That’s not what you were saying when you were practically riding my face, or when you were cumming on my dick, begging me not to stop.” His words made your face burn, unable to even say something smart in return. “You don’t have to lie to me, baby. I was there.”

Fully dressed now, you moved to his dresser mirror, trying to fix your appearance. “Don’t call me baby.”

He crossed his ankles, just watching you with that infuriating grin. He made no move to cover any part of his body, his cock laying against his thigh. It was huge even when he was soft, which you hated that you even noticed. 

“Aw, why’re you so mad now?” The condescending tone in his voice made you shiver with the effort of not losing your absolute shit. “Personally, I had fun. And I just gave you your first orgasm ever—“

“Not my first orgasm.”

“Sorry, your first orgasm that you didn’t give yourself.” He tilted his head, smirking. You could feel his eyes all over your body, shameless. “Two of them, actually. So really, you should probably be thanking me.”

You barked out a laugh as you wiped a lipstick smudge from the corner of your mouth. You turned around, noticing for the first time that some of it had transferred to his face. “I’m not thanking you for shit. This never should’ve happened.”

Steve watched you head for the door. He had no intention of stopping you. He’d never let a girl stay in his bed after sex, and he wasn’t about to start now. He moved lazily even as he sat up and began to grab his own clothes.

“You can pretend you didn’t like it all you want, baby,” he said, not even looking at you anymore as he pulled his boxer briefs back onto his legs. “But you and I both know what happened in here tonight, and I don’t think you’ll be forgetting it any time soon.”

You held back a frustrated scream as you walked out of his bedroom, slamming the door behind you. Thankfully the music was loud enough that it didn’t draw any attention. You stomped down the hallway and down the stairs, back into the chaos that now felt suffocating and overwhelming in a way it never had before.

You found Nancy in the kitchen, laughing with some of the other sisters. When she spotted you her expression turned serious, saying something to the girls before walking straight to you. 

“Where did you go?” she asked, reaching for your arm. Her hand was a little cold and every touch to your skin right now felt like a scalding burn, but you didn’t pull away. “I’ve been looking for you for ages.”

“Just got wrapped up talking to some people,” you mumbled, unable to make eye contact with her. “I’m gonna head home, though.”

Nancy’s brows furrowed. “Now? Already? It’s still pretty early.”

“I just don’t feel good,” you said. All you really wanted was to get back to the safety of your own bedroom and freak out about this in private. “You don’t have to leave.”

“No, don’t be silly. I’m going with you.” She drained the last of the contents of her cup and tossed it into the nearby trash can, intertwining her fingers with yours. “This party kinda sucked tonight, anyway.”

You smiled at her, genuinely grateful. Nancy was your best friend for a reason, and you loved her. But you could never tell her what happened tonight.

As you walked hand in hand to the front door, you felt a creeping feeling up your spine. Just as Nancy turned the doorknob, opening the door and letting the cool September air inside, you looked back over your shoulder.

Steve leaned against the railing upstairs, watching you. When you locked eyes, he lifted a hand in a wave, smiling down at you.

You left the house, letting the door close hard behind you.

Steve was haunting you.

Not even in the way he always had, constantly in the same places, an unavoidable physical presence. No, this was worse. He was in your head now. And for the first time ever, you felt you had actually been lucky before.

The night after that first fateful mistake, you’d gotten back to the house, told Nancy you didn’t feel good, and went straight to bed. You removed your clothes from the party, shoved that pair of panties straight in the trash. You didn’t think you could ever look at them again.

Sleep didn’t come easily. You laid in bed, thinking about Steve and what you’d done without a moment’s reprieve. It was miserable, but you figured it was normal. Something terrible had just happened after all; a horrible mistake had been made, so of course you were going to think about it. It would fade. You would feel better tomorrow.

The problem was that it never stopped.

You woke up thinking about Steve. Went to class thinking about him. Every time you saw him on campus—and he always saw you first, smirking at you and giving you that douchebag nod, or a casual wave that he knew was anything but—you averted your eyes and headed quickly in the other direction.

If the fact that you’d done it at all didn’t disgust you enough, it was nothing compared to the horrible truth. That you’d liked it. Loved it. Wanted more. He really was the best you’d ever had, and you didn’t think he’d ever done a single thing that had pissed you off more than that.

Of all the guys you’d been with, guys who were plenty hot and popular and well liked, not a single one of them had ever cared about your pleasure in any way. They were only interested in getting themselves off. You were pretty sure they wouldn’t have been able to find the clit if they’d even bothered to try.

But Steve? He had absolutely rocked your world exactly like he promised. The only orgasms you’d ever experienced had been by your own hands, and you figured no one ever would or could know your body better than you did. How did he know the exact right places to touch, the right things to do? Every girl was different, right? Did he have some kind of stupid fucking superpower?

He had you completely spiraling. You felt like you were losing your mind. Even Nancy and Carol and the other girls noticed there was something up with you. Nancy was the only one who asked, but you quickly made up some excuse about being stressed over classes and homecoming. Tommy was still doing everything in his power to win you over, but there was only one Sigma Chi member on your mind at all hours, day and night.

You laid in bed at night with the memory haunting you. His mouth, his tongue, his fingers, his stupidly huge dick that he knew exactly how to use, that he’d taken so much care with so he wouldn’t hurt you. How hard you’d cum when he went down on you, the way he made you cum again with nothing but his cock. The memories replayed through your mind nonstop until the ache between your thighs became unbearable and you couldn’t help it anymore, your hand slipping beneath your shorts and panties and burying your moans in your fist until you came moaning his name, picturing his face the way he looked staring up at you from between your legs.

That was the worst of it, the guilt and confusion and disappointment you felt when it was over. When you were laying there in the quiet dark of your bedroom, realizing that you were really, truly fucked.

You wanted Steve. You wanted him bad. And you didn’t think you could keep lying to yourself.

By the time the next party came around, you were done even trying to pretend.

You spent a little extra time getting ready in your bedroom, picking out a cute little dress after trying on nearly everything in your closet. It was form fitting, short, and a bit revealing. You knew it would catch his attention. You honestly weren’t sure why you were even trying, since you’d never had to try to get him to notice you before, even when you desperately didn’t want him to.

When you met Nancy and Carol in the front room, their eyes widened at the sight of you. “Woah. That’s the slut dress,” Carol remarked right away.

It made you laugh even as your skin flushed with embarrassment. It was true. This dress rarely ever came out, and when it did it was because you were going on a date you really wanted to end happily—hence the nickname your friends had dubbed it with.

“Is there something you wanna tell us?” Nancy asked, her brows raised. “I mean, you look great, but…who’s it for?”

The question made you freeze for a moment, even though you should’ve known they’d ask. Of course they would. But you recovered quickly, making up a lie on the spot that you prayed sounded believable. “No one in particular. Just…hoping to catch the attention of someone interesting, at least.”

That seemed good enough for Carol, who turned away and started digging through her purse to make sure she’d packed her lipstick, but Nancy watched you a little longer. She was always so analytical with everything, and as your best friend, she knew you too well for you to get away with lying to her about much. And you hated lying to Nancy, you really did, but how would you explain this?

The three of you left Delta Gamma as a unit, arms linked together. The walk to the Sigma Chi house wasn’t far, and it was a chilly evening, but nothing too bad. The bare skin of your thighs felt the sting of the cold the most, but before you knew it you were walking in the front door, the packed frat house instantly hot enough to make you grateful for the amount of skin you had showing.

For the first time, you were grateful to be separated from your girls so quickly. And, equally as unusual in this alternate dimension you’d somehow stepped into—you wanted to find Steve. Your eyes scanned each room for him, ears focused on listening for his voice. Something you couldn’t explain led you to the backyard, a place you didn’t often venture here.

The hot tub was on, and overcrowded. Some of the guys were in with a handful of girls, most sitting in someone’s lap. A larger crowd just hung out on the back deck, some even into the yard beneath the lights. You heard the sound of his laughter quickly, turning your head to the left at the exact time he looked in your direction.

And god, you hated to admit it, but he looked good. His hair was once again perfectly styled, and he wore a long sleeve dark green shirt with a pair of jeans that he wore…really, really well. They were tight, perfectly fitted, and you didn’t know how you’d never known about his size when he wore pants like that. His ass looked great, too.

Fuck.

You locked eyes with him. He held your gaze for a minute, smirk on his face even as he kept talking to his friends. Then, for the first time ever—he turned away. Going right back to his conversation as if you’d never even been there at all.

You were stunned.

Never in the history of your time at OSU had Steve seen you and not immediately approached to piss you off. He had never dismissed you like that. If the rage hadn’t already been boiling in your blood, it certainly was now.

You scoffed, turning around and walking back into the house. If he was expecting you to come to him, it wasn’t gonna happen. It had never happened that way before and wasn’t going to start now. Instead you pushed your way to the kitchen, heading straight to pour yourself a drink.

Just as you were reaching for one of the red plastic cups, another hand came around your shoulder and grabbed it before you could. You turned around, more confused than angry, to see Tommy Hagan standing right behind you, a warm smile on his freckled face.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, looking like he just realized how awkward of a move it was. “I just—can I get you a drink?”

You paused for a second. “Um…yeah, sure. Thanks.”

“No problem,” he said, his expression becoming a little more comfortable at your acceptance. He moved around to the counter that held a keg and multiple bottles of liquor. It was surrounded by people, as it always was, but they moved for Tommy out of respect in the same way they did for Steve. “What’re you drinking?”

You scanned the selection—there was a bit of everything. Sigma Chi took pride in keeping the alcohol flowing at every party. “Tequila?”

“You got it.” Tommy grinned. He filled the red cup from the keg and passed it back to you, then reached for the bottle of tequila, pouring two shots. He handed one to you and held the other out in a toast.

You smiled softly as you gently tapped your cup against his, then brought it to your lips, downing the burning liquid with ease. Tommy laughed when you scrunched your face up in disgust for a second.

“You’d think Harrington would splurge for the good shit,” Tommy said, leaning back against the counter as he looked at you. “I guess I can’t complain about free alcohol, though.”

“True,” you smiled, even though you really didn’t want to talk or think about Steve anymore, especially right now. “Thanks. Again. For the drinks.” You held your beer up towards him before taking a sip.

“No problem,” he said, a soft blush touching his pale skin. “Pretty girls shouldn’t have to pour their own drinks.”

Even though you didn’t like Tommy as more than a friend, he really was sweet, and his attention made you feel good. Special. “What would I ever do without you, Tommy?”

He laughed, looking down at his shoes for a moment. “Hey,” he said, meeting your eyes again. “I was just thinking…if you’d maybe want to go out? Maybe…Monday?”

Your eyes widened. You hadn’t actually expected him to ask you on a date. Your lips parted, closed, then opened again, but you couldn’t figure out the right words to say.

“Nothing serious,” Tommy said quickly, noticing your hesitation. “It doesn’t have to be…y’know. I just thought we could maybe get some food, talk about homecoming…” His soft smile returned. “…and, you know, I’d really like to take you out.”

It was hard not to soften around him, especially with the way he spoke to you. Every Sig was great at turning on the charm, but there was something about Tommy that felt so genuine. And would it really be so bad to go out with him? “Sure. That sounds good. My last class ends at 4?”

“Great,” he said, the words leaving him in a breath of relief. “Yeah, awesome. I can pick you up from DG? Like…6?”

“That’s perfect,” you nodded. You drank from your beer again just as another Sig walked up to Tommy—Billy Hargrove. You hadn’t spoken to him much yourself, but he was nice to look at for sure. You knew a few of your sorority sisters had been out with him, and he had a bit of a reputation for being a ladies man. He had a gorgeous smile, tan skin, blue eyes, and dirty blonde hair that hung to his shoulders in soft, beautiful curls.

“Hagan,” Billy said, clapping a hand on the other boy’s shoulder. He looked like he was about to say something else, but then his eyes landed on you. “Well. You didn’t tell me you were busy entertaining DG’s most beautiful.”

Even though all these frat guys pulled the same cheesy lines, you still felt the heat rise to your skin. “Hi, Billy.”

“Hi, gorgeous.” He smiled down at you, showing off the dimple in his cheek. Something about it brought out the ‘smiling shyly, twirling your hair around your finger’, teenage girl-type feeling buried deep within you. Tommy’s confident smile had dropped, now shifting awkwardly on his feet.

“Uh, what’s up, Hargrove?” Tommy asked, trying his best to look unbothered.

Billy glanced at him for just a second before those clear blue eyes found you again. “No rush, Hagan. What, don’t wanna share her attention?” His smile was bright and friendly, the kind that would have any girl’s heart beating fast.

“It’s not—“ Tommy sighed, leaning back against the counter.

“We were just talking,” you said, glancing between the two boys. There was an unspoken tension there, but you didn’t dwell on it. “How’s basketball?”

Billy’s smile grew. “It’s great. We’ve started conditioning. Right, Tommy?” he asked, turning around to look at his friend for only a moment, a weak attempt at acting like he had any intent to bring him into the conversation. “You should come to some of our games this season. I think I play better when there’s a pretty girl cheering for me.”

You laughed, the sound light and airy and genuine. “Is that right?”

Billy shrugged. “Could be just a theory, but why take the risk? Wouldn’t be very good for school spirit if we didn’t do everything possible to make sure we take home that championship, right?”

You rolled your eyes lightly as you laughed again, but it was more amusement than irritation—not like with certain people. “I guess that’s true. We should all do our part.”

“Exactly.” He smirked. “And maybe I can come watch you run some time. See that record-breaking sprinter I’ve heard so much about in action.”

You weren’t sure why exactly, but it surprised you that he knew anything about your athletic achievements. It was talked about on campus—the school loved to celebrate their top athletes—but it’s not like most of the school cared about track and field the way they did about other sports. You were no Steve Harrington, star pitcher. “Yeah, that would be cool. I’d like that.”

“I’ve heard you’re good. Like, insanely fast.” He leaned against the counter next to Tommy with an instinctual swagger, exuding the confidence that came so naturally to him. “And, uh…long jump?”

“High jump,” you corrected, hiding your shy smile behind your cup as you sipped your beer again. “But, yeah. I’d love for you to come watch.”

“Maybe I’ll call you sometime.” Billy winked at you before finally acknowledging Tommy again. “Hagan. We’re waiting for you out back.” He looked back at you. “Sorry, came over here to grab him and didn’t expect to get…distracted.”

“Go do your thing,” you said, waving your hand in some kind of vague gesture. You were starting to feel a slight buzz, at least. “Have fun. Don’t let me hold you up.”

“I’ll see you around,” Billy said with one last flash of that charming smile. When he looked back at Tommy, his expression was more serious, nodding his head towards the back in a silent command that didn’t seem to have any other option.

Tommy smiled at you, but it was more forced, the comfort from before long gone. “I’ll see you Monday,” he said. “It was…good to talk to you. I hope you have fun the rest of the night.”

“Bye,” you said softly, but he was already gone. You watched him trailing after Billy towards the back door, where Steve and some of the other guys waited, a cheer erupting as soon as they walked out the door. Frat boys.

Left on your own again, you tried to enjoy yourself. Bouncing around the house, talking with people you knew from around campus, from sports, from Greek life. Still, you couldn’t shake the thought of Steve from your head. You knew what you’d come here to do, and even though you hated yourself for it, you hadn’t changed your mind. You didn’t think you could.

You saw him again a few times. Through the back door, in the living room, passing him in the hallway on the way to the bathroom, where he bumped into your shoulder and turned around long enough to smirk at you before walking on like it was nothing. Every time you saw him he saw you too, but he didn’t approach you once. It had you fuming.

A few hours into the party, unfortunately, you were getting desperate.

When you walked into the kitchen for another refill, you saw him again. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest with one hand holding his cup, talking to some girl you couldn’t name. You weren’t jealous—you were not jealous—but it just made you even angrier. Especially when he glanced at you for just a moment before turning back to her.

This was humiliating. It was demeaning. You hated it. You hated him. But you swallowed your pride, took a deep breath, and walked over to them anyway.

Steve looked at you again, and grinned wide, his eyes lighting up with an infuriating delight as he realized you were coming over. The girl by his side gave you a dirty look as soon as she noticed, but Steve’s attention was now entirely on you.

He said your name, a simple acknowledgement. “How are you enjoying the party?” He tilted his head to the side, his expression smug. He knew exactly what game he’d been playing all night, and he also knew he’d just won.

“It’s great,” you said, your deadpan voice doing nothing to hide your irritation.

“Good. I pride myself on my hospitality.” You didn’t think you’d ever seen Steve not looking proud of himself, but he certainly did right now. “Did you need something?”

You glared at him, biting the inside of your cheek as you refused to back down from the eye contact he was holding. The girl next to him looked between you. “I was…wondering if you had any more of that…weed.”

The grin that spread across his face was nothing short of euphoric. His hazel eyes seemed to shine with it. The girl next to him might as well have no longer existed. “Actually, you know, I might have a little more. I’d have to check.”

Your jaw clenched, looking off to the side before meeting his eyes again. Your whole body buzzed like a live wire. When he didn’t make a move, just kept looking at you, you raised your eyebrows at him expectantly. “Well?”

Steve laughed. “Now, huh?” He downed the rest of his beer and turned to the side, dropping the cup in the trash. You were momentarily stunned when he grabbed yours from your hand, too, doing the same. “Well, if it’s that urgent. Come on, we’ll go look.”

He pushed off the wall, walking in the direction of the staircase. He didn’t give the girl he’d been talking to another word or look, but she was certainly glowering at you when you glanced one last time before following after him. You felt ashamed, trailing behind exactly like he wanted you to. But worse than that was the relief.

Still, as you walked up the stairs behind Steve, you looked around to make sure no one was watching. You’d survived the first hookup without rumors starting, but you knew you had to be careful. If there was one student on this campus everyone paid attention to, it was Steve Harrington.

Even worse than some random students seeing and whispering would be Nancy or Carol. You didn’t want to have to even begin to figure out how to explain this to them. It was humiliating enough doing it, confusing even trying to justify it to yourself.

Steve led the way into his bedroom, although you’d dreamed about the same path so many times over the past week, you could have walked yourself there with your eyes closed. His room was still tidy, and the scent of the cologne he was wearing now permeated the air. All his usual hair products sat out on his dresser, and you could practically see the ghost of him there getting ready before leaving for the party downstairs, not putting it away.

He closed the door behind you, the sound of the lock clicking into place like a bomb in the silence. You turned around to face him. You hadn’t really thought this far ahead.

“So…” Steve began, walking over to you slowly. You felt like a rabbit that had run right into his trap—willingly. “Did you really want that weed? Or did you come back for something else?”

You gritted your teeth, fists clenching and unclenching at your side. Drawing in a deep breath, you tried to relax your muscles, your entire body tense. “I…”

Steve was still smiling at you as he approached. He knew you weren’t going to say it, but he had already won. You’d come. His hand came up to rest on your cheek, and you found yourself relishing in the warmth of his palm rather than flinching away.

“You don’t have to say it if you don’t want to,” he murmured, his voice low. No bravado, soft, meant only for you. His eyes were locked on yours. “I know what you need, baby.” His thumb stroked your cheek, then moved to rub slowly over your bottom lip. Your breath hitched, but you couldn’t break the intense eye contact if you tried. “Have you been dreaming about it?”

You didn’t know what to say. Your brain was short circuiting. Your hands hung loosely by your side, eyes wide, as he looked at you with pure heat. Goosebumps covered your skin, breath coming in strained.

“I already know,” he continued when you said nothing. His words were a low purr, a sound that had you hypnotized. You didn’t even react when he pulled down slightly on your bottom lip and slipped his thumb inside, pressing down against your tongue. “You’d never been fucked like that in your life. You’ve been thinking about it. Trying to recreate it with your own hand, getting off to the memory.”

Body on autopilot, you closed your lips around his thumb. Your eyes never left each others’ as you ran your tongue over the calloused pad of his finger, sucking on it. For all he tried to act unaffected and in control, you saw the shudder that wracked through him. You didn’t have to look to know he was hard already.

When he pulled his hand away, the trance was broken. But still, you both stood there, just looking at each other. The whole room felt charged with electricity, the air around you heavy enough to feel like a physical, oppressive weight.

Your lips crashed together in a kiss both hungry and frantic. It wasn’t slow and romantic, not this time. Steve’s hands dug into your waist, pulling you close, the kiss all tongue and teeth and messy desperation. He groaned into your mouth, and when he pulled your hips into his, you could feel the hard proof of what you’d already known.

He pulled back to pull his shirt over his head, your eyes drinking in the exposed skin shamelessly. He was breathing hard, eyes glazed over with unfiltered want. Shoes were kicked off, Steve’s jeans hit the floor, and he wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you with ease and laying you on his bed.

“You wore this little thing for me?” Steve whispered in your ear as he settled over you. His lips attacked your neck, sucking at that spot he remembered was so sensitive. You wouldn’t be surprised if he left marks, but you couldn’t think straight long enough to care.

“No.” The denial was weak, even you knew that. You had watched him all night, approached him yourself after sucking up your pride, and now you were beneath him on his bed. But, fuck, hadn’t you given him enough satisfaction tonight?

“No?” He chuckled darkly against the hot skin of your neck. He didn’t believe you for a second. He was rolling his hips against you, the straining in his boxer briefs rock hard where it pressed against your dripping core. “That’s a shame, baby. It looks so good on you.”

The little whimper that escaped when he bit down on the skin beneath your ear would have been embarrassing if you were able to even process it. You arched your back beneath him, pressing your tits against his chest. Your nipples were hard through the thin material of your dress—a bra didn’t work with it, so you’d gone without—and the feeling of friction against them had a breathy noise falling from your lips.

Steve moved down your body, pushing your dress up roughly until it was up around your waist. He lowered himself between your thighs, pressing his nose against your already soaked panties, letting out a low, primal groan. “God, you’re so fucking sweet,” he growled. Unable to wait any longer, he hooked his fingers into the waist of your panties and pulled them off.

“Steve—“ you said in a voice that sounded more like a squeak than anything, spreading your legs for him, breathing hard. His big hands slid up your smooth thighs, opening them wider for him. His nose brushed lightly against your folds, making you draw in a sharp breath.

“Yeah, baby?” he murmured. He was looking at your cunt like he wanted this as badly as you did—maybe more. “What do you want?”

“Just do it,” you whined, your body writhing against his sheets with the overwhelming need. “Please, just…”

“What do you want me to do?” He was looking up at you now, smirking, even as his mouth was hovering an inch from where you needed him more than anything. “You’ve gotta tell me, sweetheart. I can’t read your mind.”

You groaned, eyes opening as you looked down at him. “You are such a fucking asshole.”

His big eyes widened with feigned innocence. “What?” You could feel his breath ghosting over your pussy, so wet for him, and it had you trembling. You couldn’t take much more of this and he knew it.

“Stop trying to make me say it,” you grumbled. You pressed the heels of your hands to your eyes.

“Not trying to make you do anything,” he hummed. He moved his head, nose brushing against your clit and making your breath catch. “I just don’t know how I’m supposed to know what you want me to do if you don’t tell me, and, y’know, I’d never want to do anything you didn’t want—“

“Oh my god, Steve,” you huffed, hands running through your hair where you laid against his mattress. “Are you gonna keep running your mouth all night or put it to good use again?”

Steve laughed genuinely, eyes sparkling with amusement. “You’re so feisty. I always liked that about you.”

Before you could complain anymore, he buried his face against your pussy, diving in like it had been killing him to hold himself back, too. You cried out, loud, a hand moving to slap over your mouth a second too late. You could feel his lips curling in a smile against you.

He was good, so good, you didn’t have to have any prior experience to know that. It was no wonder he had girls lining up to get in his bed. You couldn’t keep yourself quiet, his tongue fucking inside of you, drinking in all the sweetness you dripped for him, rolling his tongue over your clit. It felt like he was everywhere at once.

“Steve, fuck!” you cried, gasping and clutching onto the pillows behind your head. “Oh my god, fuck, how are you—oh fuck—“

He groaned against your cunt, the vibrations going straight through your clit and to every nerve ending in your body. He flicked his tongue over the swollen bud, wrapping his lips around it and sucking as he sunk two fingers into your fluttering hole.

“God!” you choked. Your thighs were trembling around his head already. Your hand moved down to card through his hair before gripping onto the soft strands for dear life, pulling another moan from him when your fingers tightened in them.

Steve’s fingers fucked into you, nice and slow at first, slipping in a third finger before curling deep to hit that perfect spot. He was getting you ready for his cock again, your heart beating out of your chest at the thought alone. You could see it when you closed your eyes, just as you had for the past week, and it had you growing even wetter for him.

“Steve…” you whined, your hips starting to grind against his face. He let you, moaning and working you even harder, begging for it without any words. “I’m gonna…”

“Give it to me,” he rasped, pulling away just long enough to say the words before his mouth was right back against you, delving his tongue between your folds and focusing on your clit while his fingers worked you open.

Stars exploded behind your vision. Unable to hold it back, you cried out, mindlessly babbling combinations of his name and curses and desperate pleas of don’t stop don’t stop oh please fuck god don’t stop—

Steve worked you through every last aftershock, playing your body like an instrument he knew wholly, intimately. Your body was still shaking when he pulled away. The sight of him looking down at you like that, with his lips and chin glistening with your release, made you whimper. God, why did he have to look like that?

“So fucking good,” he said, eyes dark and awed. His cock strained hard against his boxers. You could see it twitching through the material, throbbing visibly.

His hands slid up your body, looking at you with a deep reverence as he slid the dress up until it was over your head, tossing it to his floor. His eyes raked over your naked body, every inch of it, the smooth skin and the way your chest rose and fell, how wide your eyes were looking up at him, your pretty lips parted.

“I thought about you, too,” he whispered, lips ghosting over your cheek, back to your ear. “Thought about how you tasted. How tight you felt around me. The way you said my name. The noises you made…god, I came so fucking hard playing those noises over and over in my head.”

You gasped, the throbbing between your legs starting up again at his words. You’d had no idea. Why would he be thinking of you when he could have any girl at this whole school? He wasn’t just saying it. The unfiltered heat in his voice made that clear.

Steve lifted off of you slowly, eyes staying on you until he turned away to open his bedside drawer and grab one of those foil packets he seemed to have an endless supply of. He pushed his boxers down, flushed cock springing free, and kicked the last bit of clothing off the bed with the rest.

You watched him rip the foil open and roll it onto his (impressive, huge, perfect, achingly hard) cock, your pussy clenching around nothing, your body itself begging for him. He settled between your legs, wrapping his big hands around your thighs, opening you wide.

“Dreamed about this pussy,” he mumbled, wrapping a hand around his shaft and dragging his tip through your soaked folds. He pressed the thick head against your hole, pressing forward just slightly, just feeling you. You whined, rocking your hips down, begging for him inside. He smirked as he noticed, but didn’t push in yet. His expression was almost dreamy, pupils blown. “Best pussy I ever had. Fuck. Never came so fucking hard as I did inside you.”

“Steve…” you breathed, the word itself a plea.

“Tell me,” he breathed. It wasn’t a tease anymore. The need in his voice was staggering. He was begging. “Please, baby. Need to hear you say it.”

The sight of Steve, utterly wrecked like this, was almost too much to bear. You didn’t have it in you to refuse, not anymore. “Please,” you keened. “God, Steve, please fuck me.”

His eyes fluttered closed and he let out a ragged groan, even before he finally rolled his hips forward, piercing you with that perfect, thick cock. You nearly sobbed in pleasure as you felt it, that overwhelming fullness as he sank into you inch by inch. It was easier this time but still a stretch, still that distant sting until his hips pressed flush against you.

“Christ—“ Steve choked, falling forward on his hands, planting them on either side of your shoulders. “Oh, fuck.”

You rocked your hips up against him, telling him it was okay to move. Begging him to move. “Oh my god,” you moaned. Your walls throbbed around him, which was undoing him way faster than he’d care to admit.

He pulled his hips back before sinking back in. Starting slow, as if he were still trying to be careful with his last shred of restraint. It didn’t last long. The perfect clench of your heat around him was driving him mad, his thrusts quickly working up into a punishing rhythm.

Your name left his lips in a shuddering breath, his forehead dropping to rest against your shoulder. The sound of his skin meeting yours filled the room, your cunt so slick and wet around him you could hear it every time he drove in. He fucked you harder than he had last time, something you didn’t even know you’d craved until you had it.

“So fucking—god—you feel so fucking good,” he grunted, his body slick with sweat where it was pressed against yours. You hooked a leg around his waist as he reached down with one hand to grab your thigh and press it up against your chest.

The angle was devastating, his cock hitting deeper inside of you than you thought possible. Your eyes rolled back as he punched soft, mindless little “ah ah ah”s from your lungs with every thrust.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he gritted out through clenched teeth. His eyes squeezed shut, sweat beading on his forehead with the effort of how hard he fucked you. The headboard knocked against the wall, chipping the paint from the force of it, the sound unmistakable for anyone who happened to walk by. “Gonna make me cum so fucking hard again. Fuck. Oh, fuck, baby, you’re so perfect, so goddamn—oh shit—“

You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling on it the way you now knew he liked. The desperate groan he let out was muffled as you pulled him down to your lips, his tongue immediately licking into your mouth. The kiss was utterly filthy, saliva dripping down the side of your mouth—yours, his, both.

The whines he was letting out were growing higher, needier. All signs of that cocky, insufferable personality were gone, nothing but pleasure and desire coursing through him. His fingers dug bruises into your thigh as he snapped his hips forward harder, and oh fuck, he was hitting that spot again—

“Steve!” you gasped, head tossing back against the pillows. Steve’s lips moved down the exposed column of your throat, placing hot, wet kisses everywhere he could reach. “Oh, fuck, Steve, I’m gonna fucking cum—“

“Please,” he begged, his voice a ragged growl against your throat. “Let me feel you. Squeeze my cock, milk me fuckin’ dry, please.”

That coil snapped again, hard, the moan it forced from you more like a scream. It was loud, you knew it was loud, but you couldn’t help it, completely delirious with the intensity of the pleasure. Your back arched beneath him, moaning and crying out and calling his name again and again.

Steve let out a choked noise at the feeling of you tightening around him, clenching and throbbing hard. His hips rutted into you with a desperate, frantic intensity, rhythm completely gone as he chased his own orgasm. He was right behind you, only a couple more shallow thrusts until he was stilling as deep inside you as possible. He groaned roughly, his head dropping to bury his face right between your tits as his body shuddered with release. You could feel him pulsing inside you even through the condom.

The room calmed, your heavy breathing the only sounds remaining. His weight was heavy over you, but you didn’t mind. You didn’t exactly want him to move, at least not yet. In the quiet aftermath, you relished in the feeling of him, his cock still throbbing inside as he slowly softened.

When he finally mustered up the energy to move he lifted off of you, pulling out and removing the condom, tossing it in the trash. You couldn’t bring yourself to look and see if there was proof of him having any other girls in here since you’d been with him. You didn’t know why you cared.

Steve sat on the edge of the bed, his arms resting on his knees. He was still catching his breath as you sat up, reality beginning to creep back in like unforgiving daylight after the safety of the night.

He turned his head to look at you, lips curling into a smile again. His skin still glistened with sweat. “Was it as good as the first time?” He asked, once again breaking the spell with his big mouth. “What you were hoping for when you showed up here tonight, dressed like that?”

You scoffed, sliding off the bed to collect your clothes again. Now that you’d gotten what you’d been craving, the desperation that had been clouding your brain was gone. That familiar shame was crawling over you again.

“What?” he laughed. “You can say it, y’know. Doesn’t mean you have to like me just because you like fucking me.”

You hesitated for a moment, then moved again, pulling your panties back over your legs. “Don’t.”

“Come on, baby,” he goaded, leaning back on the bed. He watched you, propped up on one arm, once again unbothered by being completely exposed to you. “Would it really be so bad to admit it?”

You didn’t look at him, but you could feel his eyes staring at your ass as you pulled your panties back on. “Fine,” you finally huffed, turning around. You clutched your dress in your hands, nearly throwing it at him when he didn’t even try to hide the way his gaze dropped down to your tits. “You’re good. It was amazing. Is that what you want to hear?”

He grinned. “I just wanted to hear the truth.” He shrugged playfully. “I mean, I already knew, just wanted to hear you admit it. Not for me, but for yourself.”

“Aren’t you altruistic,” you muttered, pulling the dress back over your head. The way his brow furrowed for a moment showed he didn’t know what the word meant, but he didn’t press.

Finally he sat up, beginning to replace his own clothes. “It’s okay that you can’t stay away. I get it. It’s good sex.”

“I can stay away—“

“Sure,” he interrupted, lifting his hips to get his boxers back on. “But you don’t want to, right?”

You paused. You hadn’t let yourself think about that. If it was okay to let yourself want this. Just because you hated Steve so bad, because you didn’t want anyone to know this was happening. But did that make it bad? Did it make you wrong? Weak, like you’d felt all week, and especially tonight?

Maybe he was right. It was good sex.

After buttoning his jeans, Steve stood to face you. He ran a hand through his hair, looking in the mirror behind you for just a second before focusing back on you. “Look,” he started, but it was hard to pay attention when he was standing there shirtless like that. “I think we could help each other.”

You forced your eyes back up to his face, the smirk sitting there evidence that he’d seen you staring. “Help each other?”

He walked over to you, hands resting on your hips again. You didn’t push him away, holding his gaze. “Yeah. Help each other. I told you I liked it too, didn’t I?”

You weren’t sure what to say. You’d heard him say it, when he was buried inside you, moaning your name, but you figured it was just…talk. Heat of the moment. Nothing real. Nothing you said or felt when you were fucking was real.

Your lack of a response didn’t deter him. His fingers flexed on your hips, but he didn’t pull you closer. “We could make this a casual thing,” he offered, finally putting the words out there. “You like it, I like it. Why not keep having fun together?”

You turned his words over and over in your head. It felt like far more than the seconds it actually took as you thought over his proposition. What it meant, what it changed, how it felt.

But the memory of the past week played through your mind on repeat. How miserable you’d been, the way you couldn’t get him out of your head. That he was right, the sex had been so good you’d craved it day and night, and the second time had been just as good, if not better.

Steve waited patiently, but he knew your answer before you finally forced it out. “…Okay. Yeah. I guess.”

He grinned, squeezing your hips one more time before moving back. “Okay then. Good.”

“But we keep this between us,” you added quickly. “I’m serious. Just us. You don’t tell your friends and I won’t tell mine.”

He looked amused, but he didn’t argue. “What kind of guy do you think I am?”

You stared at him. “Steve.”

“Okay,” he laughed, pulling his shirt back on. “I won’t tell a soul. You have my word.”

You let out a sigh, both relief and anxiety at once. Turning to his mirror, you fixed your hair, cleaning up your smudged makeup. “It means nothing, and no one knows.”

The heat of his body suddenly behind you made you jump. But he just stood next to you, fixing his own appearance.

“It means nothing,” he repeated. “And no one knows.”

part two soooooon

as always, comments and reblogs are so appreciated!

tag list (join here)

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The Porch During a Storm

The rain is wild that night, slashing sideways across the fields. You’re soaked before you even make it to the covered porch, but something about the chaos lights a fire in both of you.

Clark pulls you close, water dripping off his hair, eyes dark with need. He doesn’t bother waiting—he kisses you hard, spinning you against the wooden rail. The air crackles with thunder and the charge between your bodies. He lifts you effortlessly, fucking you deep while the sky splits above you, the scent of ozone thick in the air.

You’re both breathless when it’s over, your back pressed to the cool porch beam, his chest heaving. “Next time,” you say, voice hoarse, “maybe we don’t wait for lightning.”

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His Bedroom (When You’re Just Kids, and Then Again When You’re Not)

The first time is soft. Nervous. Almost shy. You’re both eighteen, hands clumsy but hearts full. You explore one another slowly, learning each curve, every sound, every breath. He kisses you with wonder. You touch him with care. You cry afterward—not out of pain, but because it feels like something sacred just happened.

Years later, when you come back from college, everything is different. His body is stronger, more sure. He kisses you like a man who’s been waiting. You ride him in his childhood bed, the mattress squeaking under your shared weight, the headboard knocking softly against the wall. There’s something poetic about it—making love where he used to dream of a future.

“You’re still my dream,” he murmurs, lips on your collarbone.

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The Shower in the Farmhouse

You didn’t plan on it. You came in from the field sweaty and sun-kissed, and he followed you into the bathroom without thinking.

You’re under the water when his hands find your waist, then your breasts, then lower. His lips press to the back of your neck as his cock slides between your thighs, slow and deliberate. The steam fogs the mirror, the air smells like soap and sin, and you brace yourself against the tile while he fucks you from behind, one arm wrapped around your stomach, keeping you close.

You moan his name and he kisses your spine. “I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he admits. “I couldn’t wait.”

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Out by Crater Lake

You’re lying on a blanket near the water, stars overhead like confetti. The lake glows under the moonlight, and Clark’s looking at you like he wants to memorize every inch of you.

You let him.

He kisses down your stomach, worships your thighs, takes his time until you’re gasping his name. When he finally slides inside you, it’s unhurried—perfect. The night wraps around you like a secret. You arch beneath him, fingers tangled in his hair, and he whispers promises against your skin.

When it’s over, you lie tangled together, watching the sky. You joke, “Aliens probably saw that.”

He smirks. “Let ‘em watch.”

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The Red Barn (Middle of the Night)

You wake up to find him already gone from bed.

You know where he is.

You pad out barefoot in one of his old flannels, moonlight guiding you through the grass. The barn doors are half open, creaking softly in the wind. And there he is—shirtless, sweat-slick, splitting logs because he “couldn’t sleep.”

He looks up and the moment his eyes land on you, something cracks.

He pulls you to him in a rush. You barely get out a sound before your back hits the hay-strewn wall and his lips are on your throat. His hands push that flannel up over your hips and he fucks you with a silent desperation—rough, fast, needy. You don’t even make it onto the hay bale. He lifts you effortlessly, holding you against the wall like you weigh nothing.

“Missed you,” he grunts into your ear, even though you’d only been asleep upstairs.

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The Back of His Truck

You’re parked just beyond the Kent property line, watching fireflies pulse in the tall grass, country music low on the radio. The summer air clings to your skin and the windows are cracked just enough to let the night in.

Clark kisses you slow and easy, like you’ve got all the time in the world.

But when you crawl into his lap and sink onto him, the kiss deepens. Grows hotter. His fingers dig into your hips as you ride him slow, the old truck groaning under you both. It smells like leather and you. One hand grips the seatbelt strap for leverage, the other tangled in his hair.

When you come, he kisses you like you’re the last prayer he’ll ever say.

You never hear that radio song the same way again.

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The Stable

You shouldn’t be here. Martha might walk in. But Clark just smirks and pulls you into the empty stall.

He lifts you onto the low wall and drops to his knees like a sinner at an altar. His mouth is hot and reverent between your thighs, tongue curling slow until your legs are shaking around his shoulders. When you beg, when you pull his hair and moan his name like it’s the only one you know—then he stands, pushes his jeans just far enough down, and sinks into you with a desperate groan.

The scent of hay. His fingers digging into your hips. Your bodies moving together like instinct.

You cover your mouth to keep from screaming.

He doesn’t stop until your thighs tremble and you collapse back into the straw, spent and breathless.

He kisses your neck and whispers, “I like you like this. Wild.”

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The Orchard

It’s harvest time, and you’re alone in the orchard, baskets of apples waiting nearby. You make a joke about biting into a juicy one—and that’s it. His eyes flash with something heated and mischievous.

He backs you up against a tree. The bark scratches your back, the air thick with sun and sweet fruit. He drops to his knees and eats you out like he’s starving. Then flips you around, one arm wrapped under your waist, and takes you from behind as apples tumble around your feet.

Later, you’ll laugh about it. About how you both lost your shirts. About how he accidentally snapped the branch you were holding onto.

But in the moment?