𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜 — 6.790

𝚎𝚡𝚌𝚎𝚛𝚙𝚝 :

"Good morning, sleeping beauty."

"Why am I half-naked in my bed with you, Steve ?" you ask bluntly, not wanting to waste any time. Why is he here ?

I hope you will enjoy reading it. Especially if you love it, don't let it flop.

a/n : i’ve been trying to improve my writing a bit… idk if this draft is any good (?) just think of it as a practice run. i’m actually trying to mentally prepare myself for the next part of swinging… i also have to rewrite chapter one of that one oh my god i can’t even think about that yet.

[masterlist] — 💛

“Who invited him ?” you ask in a loud voice. Your longtime friend, Robin, is standing by your side. She seems completely absorbed in a marbled muffin. You prefer them.

She answers you, almost choking with the muffin in her mouth. She doesn’t meet your gaze when she says, “Who ?”

You shoot Robin an annoyed look. Your eyes return to the front of you. The man is standing there, clearly disoriented. It’s as if he’s searching for you in the living room. A slow sigh escapes your lips. You tap Robin on the shoulder, she immediately turns toward you — an expression of confusion and irritation appears on her face. “Don’t hit me like that —”

“Steve Harrington is here, in my house, at my birthday party — what is he doing here !?” You ask the question with a serious expression — without the slightest hint of amusement. Your friend, on the other hand, is grinning widely as she looks at Steve from across the room. Clearly happy to see her best friend — a guy you don’t like at all. You don’t like him.

Robin doesn't answer you, she remains silent. In fact, she just raises her hand and shouts at the top of her lungs, “Steve ! We're here !” Oh well, she's decided to become your enemy now.

When Steve spots Robin in the distance, it’s impossible not to roll your eyes. He starts walking toward you. The thought of having to talk to him makes you feel sick — you really don’t want to speak to him, not at all, because he’s just…

“Where’s the birthday girl ?” Awkward.

You're right in front of him — is he blind or what ?

Steve is now standing in front of the two of you. There's no smile from you directed at him, you'd rather look over at your other friends. They're hanging out, lying all over the couches and on top of them. They seem to be enjoying the party much more than you are, even though it's your birthday. It's funny.

“The birthday girl is here !” You hear Robin say just before she tugs on your elbow to pull you toward her. That’s clever. You were just starting to drift away from them. More specifically, Ambre. One of your friend — who just adopted a puppy. Talking about the little puppy’s behavior would have been both cute and entertaining, as opposed to the awkward situation with this young man — Steve. He seems to be watching you now with eyes sparkling with shades of brown and green. The shimmering hue.

It’s clear that you love sparkling looks — they reflect enthusiasm and joy. That’s why your home is decorated with garlands and glitter. The pink theme is everywhere, with balloons scattered all over the place, sometimes forming shapes of flamingos — you’re a huge fan. If you had the chance to become an animal, it would undoubtedly be this one — the pink flamingo.

Robin deserves an award for the decorations, the pastries, the music playing in the background. This gesture of hers perfectly captures your personality and your outfit for the day — your short, dark pink dress. Your birthday dress — understated. A birthday you don’t like. You hate it, mostly because of Steve now.

Robin, you can only express your gratitude to her, even if you don't like your birthday. Unfortunately, right now, you're feeling resentful toward her for inviting Steve.

He tries to talk to you, but you’re lost in your own world and don’t catch what he’s saying.

You frown as you watch your friend Ambre, sitting on the couch next to Thomas — a childhood friend. They seem lost in their own world, completely absorbed in each other. You wish they would let you in on it, so you could escape this disastrous encounter.

You turn to the person who seems much more engaged in the conversation than you are and say, “What ?”

The poor boy was so captivated by his story that you interrupted him. Steve looks both puzzled and irritated. Too bad. You felt Robin’s foot brush against yours, which made you want to reciprocate by touching her foot — a hard tap. Right in front of you, Steve had stopped talking, the big talker had gone silent. Now he’s looking at you with wide eyes, completely taken aback and at a loss for words.

“I — I was talking to you about… um, I just said happy birthday to you.” Steve, stammering a few words, explains the situation, his eyes shifting hesitantly from you to Robin. He looks embarrassed. You look at him with a neutral expression — without even a hint of a smile — before saying, “Thank you.”

You can hear him clear his throat, Steve doesn't seem too happy with your answer. In fact, he's no longer looking at you. Instead, he turns to Robin, searching for clues as to what he might say to you — he's nervously biting his lower lip.

It’s true that was cold of you. However, that guy is really boring, he’s nothing like the kind of man you’re into. He’s Robin’s friend — not yours.

In an atmosphere of heavy silence, punctuated by the lounge’s background music and the surrounding conversations, you spot Robin, who seems to be whispering silent words to Steve. The moment you set your eyes on him, he immediately catches your gaze — his Adam’s apple bobbing — before turning to take a look over his shoulder.

At that very moment, you notice that one of his arms is hidden behind his back. He’s hiding something, isn’t he ? He’s trying to hide something. And in fact, there really is a very large thing hidden behind him. No — please.

Another throat-clearing sound is heard, and Steve keeps his gaze fixed on you with intense focus. He then casts a discreet glance at your friend, before offering you a friendly smile. It is, indeed, a handsome smile. It must work on some women — but you’re not one of them.

His arm, hidden behind his back, moves slowly. You watch this movement intently, until you are enveloped by a wave of pale pink petals.

A huge bouquet of Gerbera daisies — your favorites — it’s really big.

It was like those boys in high school, with the gifts they gave their girlfriends, which often made you envious of such love — of that kind of greatness. You remain silent, your youthful features betraying no emotion. Steve looks at you.

“Happy birthday again — I — I know these are your favorites… I mean, I don’t know, like I’ve been stalking your life or something — no, no —” These beautiful flowers, offered by his hand, captivate your eyes in a sort of trance. Beside you, Robin’s persistent cough prompts Steve to continue his disastrous explanation, “— I know you like Gerbera daisies, because Robin told me… so I got them for your birthday.” He finishes.

Gerbera Daisy.

In your hand, you hold the bouquet, savoring and breathing in the delightful fragrance wafting from the flowers. With wonder, you breathe in deeply while holding the bouquet close to your chest, admiring these beautiful flowers up close.

As you look up — your nose buried in those pink flowers — you spot Steve, hands on his hips, watching you intently as you handle his gift. Steve seems a little anxious. He’s just like those boys. Girls accept with a kiss on the cheek. Yet you don’t even give him a smile. Instead, you lift your head and catch Robin’s gaze, she’s already staring at you. They seem eager for a reaction from you. They’ll have to wait. You're not one of those girls.

Enjoying the suspense, you turn your attention back to the bouquet you’re holding.

As you lock eyes with Steve, you whisper softly, “They are indeed my favorites… thank you.” 

Steve's smile is beaming, his white teeth glistening under the room's lights. Despite the urge to smile back at him, you hold back. I don't love you — have you forgot ?

That's just thoughtful of him, that's all.

Harrington, beaming with joy, scans the room before turning his gaze back to you and Robin, a smile playing on his lips — though it won’t last long.

“And… is that it ?” You ask the question with a look on your face that shows dissatisfaction. It’s an act.

Immediately after you speak, two pairs of eyes turn toward you. However, you only notice Steve’s eyes — he looks particularly discouraged.

You really like these flowers, it’s a sweet gesture, they suit you. Still, since it’s Steve — that guy who likes to flirt with you before getting embarrassed when you don’t respond — you would have preferred a more meaningful gift. Something more special. Flowers are a bit too ordinary. Such a Romeo cliché. A high school thing.

It’s clear that if you’d wanted to, you could have bought it yourself. It’s really very easy.

It’s worth noting that when a boy gives a girl flowers, it’s often a sign that he wants to ask her out — like those boys.

Typical of Steve.

One of your eyebrows raises as you size Steve up from head to toe. He seems hesitant, struggling to find the right words, while casting several anxious glances at Robin. His hands sink into his front pockets, betraying a certain discomfort.

“I — I thought you’d just want flowers… Robin told me you like simple things… so…” You keep looking at him with a questioning expression. Stay strong. You’re aware of your mischievousness, Robin loves to point it out to you.

That’s why you feel a hand grab your forearm before pulling you back. “Wait, Steve, we’re coming back !” Suddenly, Robin’s voice rings out. Steve shoots your friend a look accompanied by a smile that reflects just as much confusion as her expression. Meanwhile, you walk away from him, letting Robin lead you toward your kitchen. This smells like a novel.

In the kitchen, Robin lets go of your arm, you take a step back, the bouquet still in your hand and a look on your face that remains hopelessly devoid of emotion. “You know, you’re really unbearable. He’s trying to do the right thing, and you’re treating him as if he’d spit in your bowl of cereal — just look at the huge bouquet he gave you.”

You roll your eyes. “I treat him just like all the other guys who hit on me but whom I have no interest in dating. Can I just stay single ?” you ask, shaking your head. She needs to get your point.

Robin frowns and steps away. “You seemed to be enjoying yourself with Elijah last Friday — and he’s a guy.”

“A guy who isn’t awkward and thinks he’s a pro at seduction. Ugh — I don’t like Steve, okay ?… I think he’s odd, like a weirdo, and Elijah isn’t a weirdo — he’s thoughtful and respectful !” You share your story with Robin, she watches you closely, her eyes searching yours. Your eyes sometimes drift away to rest on the white kitchen walls or the brown wooden floor. You’re not lying… are you ?

Elijah was nothing more than a one-night stand. After four months without sex, you just wanted to get lucky with a man. Elijah happened to be in the right place at the right time. He was the perfect remedy for you. These days, you don’t even talk to each other anymore. It was just a hookup.

Robin looks at the bouquet of flowers and then gives you a sad look. “Steve really put his heart into choosing a gift for you that was both beautiful and meaningful… I simply suggested he get you your favorite flowers, since he doesn’t know you very well and that bothered him a lot. If I hadn’t cut him off from his extravagant ideas, he might have gotten you a bigger gift.” She concludes by glancing over her shoulder, scanning the open doorway to the kitchen. It offers a perfect view of the living room, where Steve is standing.

You’re watching him closely now. Now that you’ve heard what Robin told you, you seem a little more empathetic. Steve is standing in the middle of the living room, his hands now buried in the back pockets of his pants, while a girl is talking to him right in front of him. It’s your older cousin — she’s four years older than you. Steve doesn’t seem to be paying attention.

His engagement in the conversation seems limited, he prefers to look around. His eyes, with their strange hue, scan the room until they meet yours. Your eyes have changed their opinion of him. You watch him from afar, from that other room — the kitchen. The music still plays in the background, mingling with the voices, you choose to keep staring at him. Don’t look away. Steve keeps staring at you, too. His eyes seem full of questions, his eyebrows now furrowed.

You turn your gaze back to Robin.

You finally give her a warm smile before saying, “I’ll think about it.” You say simply, then bury your nose in the many Gerbera daisies. As you walk past her, you think about heading to your room on the first floor to put the bouquet in a vase — one that was previously filled with old roses.

The look Robin gave you was more intense than the last one. She seemed pleased with your answer. Still, for you, this isn’t exactly confirmation either. You don’t know if Steve really deserves your respect… you’ll see how the evening goes. If things go well, if Steve’s behavior is tolerable over the next few hours, maybe your opinion of him will change. Maybe.

The evening went by quietly, filled with chatter — as everyone eagerly awaited the cake and the unwrapping of gifts. You spent the whole time by Robin’s side, talking with other people you knew. They explained how they’d had to keep quiet about the party. Robin had threatened them if they revealed that your best friend — Robin — was throwing a birthday party for you without your knowledge. You laughed, then played some games in the living room and in your garden, late into the night. The laughter and glances were shared and radiant.

Just as you’d predicted, Steve was always right by your side whenever Robin was near you. Sometimes he would get caught up in a conversation with a guy, then move closer to the two of you — speaking only to Robin. It made you uncomfortable. Strangely, he didn’t speak to you directly — his eyes remained fixed on Robin, painfully avoiding yours. He was ignoring you — that’s not how those boys usually act. They liked those girls.

Steve took it literally. He sadly realized how much you disliked him.

Okay, you must have done something to make him suddenly lose interest in you on your birthday. Your birthday, of all days. You’re clearly meant to be the center of attention.

You were all drunk, downing one red cup after another. Some of your acquaintances offered you a taste of a bottle of full-bodied wine, while others simply handed you a cup as soon as you finished one. And so, as you got drunker and drunker, you realized just how much you missed Steve’s gaze — immensely.

Then, out of nowhere, it happened. Your dependency.

At one point, you were standing by the crackling fire — a bright orange-red glow in your living room — talking with Robin, your best friend from kindergarten — Celine — and her boyfriend. Steve was there too, he smelled wonderful. You took advantage of the moment, especially with the alcohol coursing through your veins. Your body had decided to position you next to him, close — very close, in fact.

You could hear his steady breathing, his undoubtedly expensive cologne was enough to drive you crazy. Your eyes had met his profile, he was facing you out of the corner of your eye. Every chance you got, you studied his nose as you raised your drink to your lips — as an excuse, just to look at him. Okay, Steve has always been hot, it’s no secret… everyone knows it, confirms it — just like you. 

You had quietly inhaled his scent, enjoying the smell, while Celine told how difficult her medical studies were — how excessive they were in some ways, she said. Yet, she went on, it was still addictive to pursue them. You were somewhere else. Far from her study problems. Far from medicine.

You caught another glimpse of Steve’s profile as he was now talking to Celine, his hands in his pockets, still looking a bit nonchalant — you wondered if he’d had a drink before coming over. This man wasn’t the Steve you knew. He was more of a young man, knowing how to use his sex appeal — or for once — meanwhile, Celine couldn’t stop laughing at what Steve was telling her. Her boyfriend kept shooting her irritated looks, as if he were scolding her. Yet no one scolded you for your naughty glances at Steve — at his nose, his expressive lips, his eyelashes, his neck.

Maybe it’s also because of your drunken side — it’s starting to take over as the minutes go by.

You admit that, after a few more drinks, you found yourself staring at Steve more and more intently. He was talking to Robin — your eyes were on him — he was laughing, eating some of your favorite muffins that were out in the kitchen, but your eyes were strangely fixated on his fingers. The ones he was bringing to his lips, licking them, putting them in his mouth. It’s a little too… addictive?

You also found yourself blushing strangely when his eyes, glazed over from alcohol — just like yours — fleetingly glanced your way. Your discreet silhouette. You felt like you were in the spotlight. The fear that he might know what your thoughts were conjuring up — all that filth. It was your way of speaking, just your eyes doing the talking. Did he figure it out at some point?

You were actually ashamed of it. Can he know that when he was sitting on the armchair chatting away, a bottle of alcohol in his hand, his legs spread apart, your eyes kept awkwardly drifting to his crotch and perverse thoughts were crossing your mind ? At that very moment, you realized just how imposing he was — it must be big.

At one point, you were playing with several of the guests, while Robin watched from the sidelines. It was a game called Twister, several of you were already on the white mat, standing on the circles arranged in vertical columns starting with red, blue, yellow and green. You had one foot on the second-to-last blue circle and were trying to hold onto a higher blue circle with one hand. Your position wasn’t exactly comfortable, you were trying to keep your balance and you were also laughing with your other friends at their ridiculous positions.

Everyone had too much alcohol in their system — red eyes, high-pitched laughter. Steve was playing too, he must have ended up facing you, legs spread apart — you had to look away. You tried desperately to shake off this sudden obsession with staring at his crotch, but luckily for you, Steve wasn’t looking at you. No, he was laughing, talking with others — with Robin, too. Not you.

She liked to tease him about his skills at this game. You learned from their banter that he used to play this game a lot as a kid. You smiled at that — a little too quickly. Your smile quickly faded when you realized there were others watching.

They were all having fun. You were stuck, unable to join in the fun without thinking about him. Just too close.

However, despite all that — the chatter and laughter, the festive atmosphere — your cheeks still flushed red, knowing that Steve was standing close to you. You close your eyes and take a deep breath through your nose, one of your acquaintances steps up beside you. From where you’re standing, you hear the laughter and comments about his posture, then it’s Steve’s turn.

Robin had just spun the wheel for him — as usual — since the game began. She was actually doing it for both of you. The black arrow landed on the right hand, he has to go stand on a red circle right next to you. You feel him move, you also feel his body getting closer to you, you lower your head, unable to bear the position the two of you are in right now. Steve lowers himself until you feel his arms brush against your side. Okay — the position isn’t that bad after all.

You could hear some of the girls complimenting him, Steve just laughs it off and takes the opportunity to crack a few jokes here and there. Deep down, you hate yourself for laughing at what he said. Steve is funny.

The worst part is, you believed him, even as you kept laughing at what he was saying and turned your head to look in Steve’s direction. He did the same, like a magnet, your eyes meeting for a few seconds, him looking at you intently until your cheeks burned, you lowered your head, too embarrassed, suddenly, under his intense gaze. The only intense look Steve gave you today, after the gift.

Then, for a moment, you felt Steve’s arm slide underneath you — at your belly. His arm came to rest against the side of your belly, you shivered at his touch, not having been ready to feel his huge hand on you. 

Because of that, you heard Robin shout, “Hey !! You’re cheating, Steve ! He’s cheating !”

All eyes turned to the two of you, you looked over at Robin. She was glaring at Steve. “He lost ! You lost, Steve !” she kept saying. You could hear Steve’s hoarse laughter — it tickled one of your ears. You blushed even more.

“We help each other out. There’s no cheating — my arm was hurting. Just for a second, Rob.” Steve says. You hear his voice echoing beside you, you don’t dare meet his gaze. Your face is down again, eyes fixed on the playmat. After that, you hear Robin’s exasperated sigh and the others’ laughter as they make fun of the situation.

One of the girls — the one running the game — says with a hint of amusement in her voice, “If you don’t take your arm off her waist, it’s game over for both of you.” At that, you immediately turn your attention to the girl — it’s your cousin again. Her eyes are fixed on where Steve’s hand is resting on your waist. Can’t she just let go ? Why are you saying that ?

You hear Steve clear his throat, then his arm slips away from your waist. He says in a melodramatic voice, “My apologies.” His big hand is no longer on your waist. What a shame.

The evening then continued with your birthday celebration. The cake, which Robin had brought you while you were sitting at the table eating — eager for your cake. It glowed with the candles forming the numbers of your age — 24. They all sang in unison. When the cake was placed in front of you, you blew out the candles while making a wish. You then felt something land on your head, slightly cold, you lifted your face and saw Steve. He gave you a mischievous smile as he finished placing the tiara, which you could tell was there when you felt it with your hand afterward. A tiara — everything you’d ever wanted to wear since you were a little girl.

You whispered a “Thank you” to him, albeit timidly, without really bothering to see if he had heard it.

After that, the gifts came out. Along with jokes about your age and gifts that brought back childhood memories. All of this until the evening ended in a black hole of loud music and nostalgia about your teenage years.

The black hole consumed your memories and your senses until you opened your eyes — the atmosphere had changed.

You yawn, the hangover gradually setting in — a headache washes over you like a thunderbolt. You try to pull the blanket up over yourself. It shields you from the morning chill. Who’s the idiot who left the balcony door open ? It wasn’t me.

With this sudden irritation, you grumble into your pillow before turning over to face the other side of your room. With your eyes closed, you taste the flavor in your mouth, the bitterness hits you right away. Disgusted, you squint your eyes and make a mental note that you need to go brush your teeth. But then again, no one else is here to smell your morning breath.

For a moment, you burrow deep into the blankets, wrapping your arms tightly around yourself. The cold becomes a little too unbearable, until you feel the bare skin of your body extending beyond your arms. You feel the bare skin of your belly beneath the palm of one of your hands, the sudden sensation of nakedness at your chest, which is pressed against the mattress.

Realizing all this, you furrow your brow and reach down below you. All you can feel are your panties — all your clothes are gone. You’re half-naked.

You suddenly open your eyes, the sight that greets you makes you gasp aloud. You freeze. Petrified.

In front of you lies a man on his back. He still seems to be asleep, wearing the same clothes as the day before, except for his sweatshirt, which is missing and has been replaced by a white T-shirt. The exposed skin on his arms is covered in mountains of moles. His hair is tangled, his hands are clenched into fists on his stomach. Steve is in your bed.

Your headache is getting worse, it’s getting stronger. You prop yourself up on your hands and lower your head to look at your bare breasts. You don’t take a second to wrap yourself in your blanket, pulling it a little too hard as you struggle, which causes Steve’s body to move. His weight is on it. He doesn’t react, he seems to be in a deep sleep. You're panicking.

For a moment, you must have moved closer to Steve, to his body, to check if he was really asleep. The thought of leaving to get dressed crossed your mind. He absolutely must not wake up — especially not to see you like this. And how did you end up like this ? Did Steve do something to you ? Did the two of you…

Questions flood your mind as you continue to gaze at Steve’s peaceful, sleeping face.

As you realize how close you are to him, you take the opportunity to lose yourself in his features — his nose, the freckles on it, the moles on his face, the stubble from a recently shaved mustache. He is handsome, it’s true.

He’s breathing calmly — evenly. His breath brushes against your face, his lips are parted. It tickles your chin. You study his hair, too — dark brown, even though it’s tousled, it looks just as perfect as when he takes care of it. You keep watching him. Your eyes rest on those lips, you linger there a little too long until you realize something. It burns — your face burns, especially your eyelids. There’s a change in the air.

Lifting your eyes, you meet Steve’s gaze, he’s looking at you intently, yet he doesn’t seem taken aback by your approach. You stand there a little too long for your liking until he utters the following words. The husky tone of his morning voice sends a thrill through your body,

“Good morning, sleeping beauty.”

“Why am I half-naked in my bed with you, Steve ?” you ask bluntly, not wanting to waste any time. Why is he here ?

Steve gives you a confused look before glancing around, as if it were obvious, “Hello — and first of all, you undressed in front of me, and second of all, you didn’t want me to leave.”

“You sure can hold your liquor…” You conclude with a bored look — it’s back. The alcohol no longer courses through your veins. You still widen your eyes, realizing exactly what he just said, “Wait — I undressed in front of you? How —” you begin to stammer. At the same time, you sit up to look around — your bedroom, which is a mess. You can see your tiara somewhere on the floor, mixed in with yesterday’s clothes, your red cup too.

Your eyes meet Steve’s again, you swallow before asking in a soft, cautious voice, “Did you fuck me?”

The red flush on Steve’s cheeks makes you want to throw up, he quickly starts saying, “We didn’t do anything. Nothing.” He explains. His embarrassed, shy eyes study your face before looking back at yours — your eyes are narrowed.

You clear your throat, accepting what he just said. You didn’t have sex, that’s a fact. Steve is in your bed, yesterday, you wanted him and you undressed, since you still wanted him. It’s simple. No sex. No misunderstanding. No kiss. Did you want to kiss him ?

You feel a weight on your shoulders, your eyes drift to your hand, which is holding the blanket in place over your chest, clutching it as if for protection. You slowly lift your gaze to look down at Steve’s still-reclining body, he’s now staring at the ceiling. Eyes closed. He still looks asleep. But that doesn’t stop you from asking the following question.

“I took my clothes off… why ? Did I do something embarrassing ?” you ask, slightly alarmed. You look at Steve, who is now looking at you with one eye, he gives you a half-smile before looking back at the ceiling, his hands still clasped over his stomach.

The silence. It's scary.

“You gave me a striptease...” He finally replies. You gasp in horror at this image of yourself, then decide to pull the blankets over you — you curl up in a ball. You keep repeating “no no no!”, you refuse to accept what he just said. This image of you, drunk and lost in a fantasy.

“No ! That’s horrible ! I haven’t sunk that low… tell me that’s all I did.” You try to ask, though you’re afraid of his answer. You’re still hiding from his view. 

You hear him sigh, you feel the mattress shift beneath you, as if he’s getting comfortable before he speaks — it scares you. “You also tried to kiss me — no, actually, you told me you hated yourself for treating me like a weirdo and a lousy flirt, that I was the funniest guy you’d ever met… you also explained that you really wanted to kiss me as a way of saying sorry, but I didn’t accept it, even though you kept clinging to my clothes. You said I smelled good…”

You freeze the moment he finishes speaking, you’re completely screwed. So it was true after all. Everything you thought yesterday was just you. Alcohol is no joke, not at all. You remember having feelings for Steve yesterday, which was unusual for you — you admit that — but the idea of throwing yourself at him, wanting to kiss him, and undressing in front of him… why did you undress ?

“What happened next ? I mean… when I took my clothes off… can you explain it to me ?” you ask cautiously, shyly. You can tell, though, that his answer is going to make you blush more and more, you feel like the biggest idiot in the world.

“About that — yeah, hmm, to be honest, you undressed in front of me, because at first you wanted me to take off your dress, then you turned around and told me you didn’t need any help, and that I should just watch…” Steve replies, his voice faltering on certain words. Shame. You close your eyes, the shame and embarrassment having reached their peak in your thoughts.

There’s a long silence between the two of you, you can hear Steve’s breathing, your own and the wind coming from your balcony. You’re still hidden from him — he can’t see your flushed face.

You can hear the few trees rustling in the wind. You sigh and decide to move under the blanket, crawling until you reach Steve. Once you’re next to him, you lift your head from under the blanket and are met by Steve’s face, he’s already looking at you intently — as if he’d already sensed your approach. You’re close to each other, right next to one another.

You hear him clear his throat, glance at your hand resting on his chest — which you’d placed there to help you pull yourself up so you could speak to him face-to-face, up close — and it doesn’t seem to bother you. “Did you dare to look ?” you ask in a low voice.

You try to ignore the scent beneath your palm, his heart is beating fast — just like yours. It’s pounding.

Steve glances at your nose before saying, in a voice as low and hoarse as yours, “No.”

With that reply, you give him a little smile before saying, “Thank you.”

Steve gives you a confused look, you tap your fingers on his torso, watching him intently. A sense of calm hangs between the two of you, you don’t seem embarrassed anymore. After all, he must love you. He does love you.

Maybe the alcohol did something to you — a spell, perhaps. Something that made Steve Harrington seem much more attractive than your previous encounters, one year at Family Video, the next at WSQK.

Steve is a fine-looking young man today — he’s always been attractive, you were just too stubborn to admit it. He exuded confidence last night, which you loved. That’s what you like in a man. Alcohol claimed two victims at your birthday party. You and the man you keep staring at — he’s doing the same.

Steve gives you a flat smile before looking over your makeshift shelter of blankets. “Are you going to… you’re going to stay here.” You shoot him a narrow-eyed look before nodding — your feverish state returning just like last night.

“I’m sorry.” you say suddenly, your voice a little lower. You see Steve’s eyes widen slightly before he narrows them and furrows his brow. He looks confused. “It’s hard for a girl like me to admit… but I realized just how much of a normal guy you are, Steve — not some weirdo from Hawkins at all… I made so many mistakes ignoring your advances that yesterday — I… I realized you weren’t so bad after all.”

Steve looks around, his lips moving silently, no words coming out, as if he’s searching for the right ones to answer you.

“Are you serious ? I mean… are you okay ? Are you drunk again ?” He starts saying this, looking at you, studying your face — your eyes still fixed on him.

Steve props himself up on one elbow to lean forward and face you more clearly. You’re lying on your stomach, he continues, “Do you have a fever ?” His big hand rests on your forehead — it’s cold, comforting — and you immediately pull away, shaking your head, denying the accusation.

“I’m fine.” You’re lying. You’re hungover, obviously — a pounding headache, a dry mouth ever since you woke up. Still, you know how to choose your words right now. You’re being completely honest about what you’ve admitted. He doesn’t seem to get it, though. Get it, Steve.

His hand finds yours — which had been resting on his torso — after it had slipped onto the mattress when he shifted to face you. He takes it and squeezes it before looking you straight in the eyes, you look right back at him. “I think you need something to help with your hangover.” You roll your eyes. You don’t need anything — just him.

Steve is sitting down now. He sounded so confident when he said that that you fell silent, simply looking at him, not trying to argue with what he had said.

Steve may be right after all. Maybe it was the alcohol that put a spell on you, made you lose your head last night with him. Steve is right.

“You’re right.” you say simply, your voice now back to its normal volume. You’ve forgotten about your hoarse voice from this morning.

The breeze from the balcony tickles the top of your head, Steve gives you a friendly look. He’s already getting up from the bed. Your breathing quickens, you keep watching him as he moves away. You aren’t thinking straight, you just let it happen. He hasn’t left the bed yet — but you know very clearly that he’s going to leave. You have to stop him.

You hear the birds chirping outside, then the wind rustling above your head, Steve’s smile, his kind eyes. You lose all self-control, your heart beats faster than usual. You sit up and cup Steve’s face in your hands. You feel his cold lips against your warm ones.

It's just a simple kiss. Quick.

Steve pulls away immediately. He gives you a strange look before staring again at your slightly damp lips, you continue to hold his head in your suddenly weak hands. Your hands don't hold the blanket around your chest.

You feel the breeze sweeping through the room brush against your bare nipples and your bare back, but you pay it no mind — you keep staring intently into Steve’s eyes. He seems to be studying yours in particular. Your eyes return to his closed lips. “Do you accept my apology, Steve ?” you ask, pleading and weak. It’s not the alcohol, no. It’s you, your sober decision.

You want to be like those girls with those boys who are in love with them — the flowers and the kiss on the lips.

Steve’s lips curve upward before dropping back down, you can sense his hesitation, even as you look up to find his eyes already studying yours. Doesn’t he like it ? Isn’t this what he was looking for ? The kiss wasn’t good…

He doesn’t glance at your bare chest, at your nipples, which have hardened from a shiver. A cold shiver from the wind, his fault. You thank him. You want him to look, too.

You open your mouth to ask another question, to pour out your troubles, but his lips part as well, his deep voice beats you to it, “What did you put in your drinks yesterday ?” he asks, a laugh escaping his lips as they curve upward — a playful, teasing smile. A beautiful smile.

Your eyes now light up at the sight of his positive change in behavior toward you. You roll your eyes and say, “Nothing at all.” There it is again — your sullen tone, your pouting face. Steve recognizes you because of that.

Suddenly, you feel one of his hands brush against the back of your neck before moving up to stroke your hair at the back of your head. You can still see a mix of amusement and confusion cross Steve’s face — especially in his eyes, with the faint, youthful wrinkles around them. You give him a smile, he sees it, then returns it — his teeth gleaming.

“You agree…” You whisper, the question hanging in the air between the two of you. He agrees.

The young man standing in front of you — the one who’s been interested in you for months now, your best friend’s friend, a former weirdo — looks you straight in the eye and says, “Maybe.”

His expression remains neutral, though you get the impression that a faint hint of amusement flits across his face — his eyes and lips.

Your eyes narrow, you repeat his own words, “Maybe ?” His hand reaches up behind your head to gather your loose hair — tousled from sleep — and you take the opportunity to move closer to him. Steve doesn’t pull away.

“Yeah — maybe.” Steve gives the same answer again. He’s teasing you, you can tell from his voice. The right corner of his mouth turns up — he’s smiling at you. You’ll quickly realize he’s just teasing you. With that, you see no problem in bringing your lips closer to Steve’s, brushing them against his, your warm breaths mingling. It tickles your chin.

“So maybe.” you repeat. That’s all. Steve nods, his eyes fixed on your lips as they brush against his. You lick your lower lip, before he closes the gap between you.

You are the girl of the boy with the flowers. Gerbera daisies.

────────────────────

The sweltering summer heat that arrives at the beginning of July is already beginning to irritate me. Can one truly perspire from every inch of their body? The crimson fan I’m waving with my right hand isn’t offering sufficient comfort. My bright fuchsia flip-flops seem to cling to the concrete as I stroll alongside Kali through Centro in Rio de Janeiro.

The plan was established. Kali, Eddie, and I were to make our way to the Centro, specifically to Cinelândia Square—which Eddie, the guy with the long, curly hair, had referred to as Plaça Floriano, before dramatically stepping back and walking away, bowing to us and saying: “Te encontro na Cinelândia.” 

Eddie left us because he seemed to want to go to a nearby shop to get his bearings and explore Brazil and its culture. I quickly realized—especially after he didn’t speak to us during the flight—that he didn’t feel close enough to us to spend time together. It’s not his fault. I’m just a friend of Robin’s, having never set foot in Hawkins, having instead grown up with the vastness of the ocean, sand in the air, and the blazing sun—in other words, in California. As for Kali, my dear Kali, she knows Robin only a little, but not at all her group of friends. She grew up in Chicago—that’s actually where I met her, while we were studying law together.

In short, Kali and I find ourselves in this excessively noisy and crowded neighborhood. I don’t feel like I’ve stumbled upon a quiet, deserted place: the buildings are massive, street vendors are everywhere, the air I breathe is thick with diesel fumes from the buses, and there are shoe shiners on every street corner. Everyone goes about their business, indifferent to the idea of having only one square meter to themselves.

Personally, I feel a bit suffocated. Don’t think I’m being dramatic—Rio is splendid, and the weather here is absolutely perfect. However, my feet are killing me, and my skin feels sticky from the heat generated by the sun and the crowds of people.

“Best bet would be to meet at Cinelândia, near one of the theaters—actually, just let Eddie figure it out, he knows Rio pretty well. Don't bother asking him why though—he never answers. We'll be there around 5, sound good? 5 o'clock is the sweet spot, I swear, any earlier and the heat is just brutal.”

Robin had called me from Galeão Airport to tell me how excited she was about meeting me. Her boundless energy really cheered me up, since I’m not very comfortable meeting new people. I wonder why she decided to invite those friends. It’s hard to understand.

My good mood didn't last. The sticky heat at the airport was driving me crazy—my skin just wouldn't stop bothering me. And don't even get me started on the wait at customs or the taxis honking nonstop outside the airport. Finally, a kind old man with hair so white it glistened in the sun drove us, and I could even see his tanned scalp. He spoke Portuguese, a language I don’t understand, and seeing Kali’s confused expression, I realized I wasn’t the only one in this situation.

Surprisingly, though, Eddie managed to strike up a conversation and respond to the man. After that, they just laughed and seemed to get along well, leaving Kali and me feeling lost and, above all, bored. He didn’t include us in the conversation even once—if he ever mentioned our names or if they were talking about us, I had no idea.

There was only one time when Eddie stared at me through the windshield while they were talking, and in that moment, a nagging thought crossed my mind—he was probably talking about me. I have good instincts, I'm convinced of it. After all, he could have been talking about my constant complaints on the plane or at the airport, not to mention the incident where I splashed a young couple sitting in the row behind me because a little boy pushed me, shouting that he needed to pee.

I’m not usually the clumsy type of person. I’m confident in what I do and say, but I don’t understand why, ever since I got into Eddie’s car, this clumsiness has been following me around. I wish it would go away. Go away.

Robin was wrong—the heat has already become unbearable. As I look at my gold watch, which feels hot on my fingers against the glass, I realize it’s only 4:35 p.m.

When the old man dropped us off at the agreed-upon spot, I had planned to stay with Kali and wait—that was my plan, until that idiot Eddie left, forcing me to reconsider my decision.

That’s why, right now, I’m trying hard not to leave my flip-flops behind, while Kali, by my side, is expressing her desire to bring back a souvenir from this trip. I’m thrilled that she’s enjoying my invitation. In any case, I would never have considered going without her, because I didn’t want to end up alone with Robin’s friends. How awful.

"How about we go check out that shop over there? Looks like they’re selling souvenirs…” Kali’s soothing voice pulls me out of my thoughts. I turn toward her, first with a frown that quickly turns into a smile. She points to a building open to everyone, with no visible door—just a brown curtain—teeming with people.

“Why not?” I reply.

As the sun suddenly bursts into my field of vision, I blink several times, the trees having vanished from either side of me. “Fucking sun—I swear I’m going to lose it before I even meet any of them.” I mutter, my harsh, annoyed voice betraying my irritation.

Kali's laughter rings out, and I glance at her with a faint smile. Then I join in her laughter, our joyful laughter mingling with the sounds already all around us.

“I’m going too far.” I laugh softly, but Kali, on the other hand, shakes her head, her shoulder-length hair—a perfect black with a subtle brownish tint at the ends—dancing around her face.

“No, no, you’re really cute when you get mad.” She gives me a look and pouts, then turns her attention back to what’s in front of her. I sigh and roll my eyes. “It doesn’t matter if I’m cute or not. That Eddie abandoned us, and I’m going to tell Robin how his good friend—who knows Rio and speaks Portuguese—someone who’s a huge help to both of us since we don’t speak a word of Portuguese—treated us this way. I’m going to tell her.”

She’s always laughing, and even though her laugh is one of the sweetest and most melodious I’ve ever heard, I’m feeling more and more irritable. “What?”

“Do you really think a guy like Eddie would choose to hang out with us—who are already friends—when he could be hitting on any Brazilian girl around here? Or maybe a guy, if he swings that way.” Kali explained, glancing at me as she made her last comment, while continuing to walk beside me as the shop she’d pointed out came into view.

“I’m still going to tell Robin.” I reply simply, with determination.

A comfortable silence slowly settles between us, accompanying our steps as we make our way toward our destination. The only sounds we hear are those of the suitcases we’re dragging and the sounds of the world around us.

Items were displayed outside—little straw hats, T-shirts, and keychains. Kali had left me alone after telling me she’d spotted an orange T-shirt from outside that looked interesting. I didn’t ask any further questions and watched her disappear behind the curtain of strips just as a woman was leaving. I had told her I’d wait for her outside—so there I was, looking at a hand-painted sign in a light green color that looked slightly yellowed by time.

I had stopped fanning myself with my hand to focus on a keychain hanging from its metal hook. The keychain was adorned with a handmade Brazilian bracelet featuring the country’s flag, attached to a silver clasp. I hadn’t planned on buying a souvenir on this trip, but the other keychain—identical to the first, but with a bracelet in shades of light pink and fuchsia—a color that matched my flip-flops—made me want to buy it.

The scent of wood and warm plastic fills my nostrils as I look for the price, while figurines of Christ the Redeemer, arms outstretched, look down on me from above, carefully arranged on the shelf where the bracelets are also displayed. There were no price tags.

Nothing at all.

As I looked up at the shelf with a blank stare—while trying to regain my inner calm—I noticed a man and a little girl standing beside me. They were examining the shelf, speaking in a language I recognized as Portuguese—whose melody reminded me of a song, with nasal sounds enveloping their words, similar to the old man’s voice in the taxi.

Shit.

Aware of what I have to do now, I look up at the sky and whisper to myself, “Thanks, Eddie.” I’m not hiding my sarcasm. Great, now I’ll have to go ask the salesperson how much it costs, hoping he speaks English… otherwise, I’m in big trouble.

I grab the pink and fuchsia keychain, then take a step back to head toward the shop hidden behind the curtain of strips. As I walk in, I notice a young woman entering at the same time as me to my left—oh, wait.

A body collided with my chest and knocked me back so hard that I was thrown backward, taken by surprise by this stranger.

I stumble backward, bumping into the same little girl who was standing near the shelf where my suitcase is still sitting—I’d forgotten about it. She lets out a cry like a child who’s fallen off a swing, and I quickly turn around to apologize. However, she glares at me and says something in Portuguese that I don’t understand—but it’s easy to tell it’s something mean, because the man I recognize as her father scolds her, wagging his finger at her.

I frown and let out a deep sigh before turning toward the store entrance, ready to apologize to the stranger I bumped into.

I start by saying, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”, my eyes follow the movement of my head, and I find myself face-to-face with a rather tall man, which immediately silences me.

So first of all, why are you speaking English in a country where Portuguese is the native language? And—wow, who is that handsome guy? No, calm down—I meant, who is that guy with messy brown hair, probably because of the heat and humidity, and brown eyes that are already looking right at me?

He's staring at me.

He looks at me, wearing the most bewildering expression I've ever seen on a man's face.

His big eyes are fixed on me, as if waiting for me to finish my sentence. Instead, I give him a silly smile, bite my lip, and say, “Uh, you know… wait—the word for ‘English’ in Portuguese…” I get lost in my thoughts, lowering my head to search for the translation on the cobblestones beneath my feet. Damn it, Eddie.

I look up and meet his gaze, which is fixed on me. His head is tilted to one side, and I let out an awkward laugh before he finally speaks.

No Portuguese, please.

“I’m American.”

His voice, deep yet delightfully perfect, seems far too seductive for a man like him. I mean, what a fascinating combination—an attractive appearance paired with an irresistible voice. Every woman dreams of meeting someone like that, doesn’t she? As for me, that’s exactly how I feel, and it’s been a while since I’ve met a man.

“American?” I repeat, phrasing it as a question. The young man stares at me before nodding in agreement, “Exactly.” His voice.

“Oh, you’re doing me a huge favor! I’m really sorry about bumping into you—I didn’t mean to.” I said, regaining a little confidence—don’t be an idiot, you’ve already embarrassed yourself enough.

The guy is staring at me in a strange way, his eyes scanning our surroundings. “It’s nothing, it’s just those curtains… don’t worry about it.” He says, raising an arm to point at the curtain behind him, without even paying it any attention. Unfortunately for him—or for me—I can’t help but look down at his white shirt with red stripes, the top three buttons of which are undone, revealing the dark hair on his chest.

“Oh, right, that’s true.” I let out a little laugh, my eyes scanning his body from head to toe without a hint of embarrassment. It’s a habit. He’s wearing light brown dress pants, which blend perfectly with Rio’s summery atmosphere, and his black shoes—slightly pointed and well-polished—add to his style. I look up to meet his gaze, which is fixed on my chest.

I’m not dressed in anything extravagant, just a red short-sleeved T-shirt paired with some slightly fitted white shorts. Wait, I forgot to mention that I’m not wearing a bra.

Yeah, that might explain a few things.

“Are you a visitor? Or do you live around here?” I ask him as I watch his eyelids open, letting out a soft laugh through my slightly dry lips, only to discover his eyes shining with a mysterious glow.

He laughs along with me. “A visitor. I just got here two days ago…” His hands—which seem perfectly big to me—rest on his hips. He keeps staring at me.

I give him a warm smile before continuing, “Are you alone? — I mean —” I try to finish my thought, but his laughter rings in my ears, deep and genuine. My cheeks flush. Pull yourself together. “Sorry, that’s not what I meant — I wanted to —”

“No, it’s fine.” He bursts out laughing again, a laugh that gradually fades before I start laughing too, feeling a little embarrassed. “I’m with some friends...” he confides, leaning slightly toward me, a whiff of his cologne wafting my way. A masculine scent that smells nice.

“Friends? Oh, me too!” I rush to reply, staring wide-eyed at him, and he flashes me a gorgeous smile as his gaze settles on my lips.

His eyes sparkle with a quiet malice as his lips move, “No way…” His smile remains radiant.

It’s really nice, for once, to come across a pleasant distraction that isn’t Eddie or Robin’s future friends. Plus, if this guy were to ask me to hang out another day, somewhere else… I wouldn’t say no.

I let my eyes wander around me before meeting his eyes, which seem just as curious as mine—well, maybe I’m just imagining it, but most of the time, I’m right.

As I search for the right words, I stare at the keychain I’m holding, and my eyes immediately fall on the yellow fabric he’s holding. I smile and say, “Hmm, by any chance, do you know how I can find out the price of this? It wasn’t labeled…” I then focus my attention on his face.

He looks down to spot the keychain I’m holding, then without hesitation raises his free hand to touch it, brushing against my knuckles—okay, that seems intentional on his part. Our eyes meet, and a ghostly glint of amusement shines in his, “You’ll have to be careful.”

“What?” I wonder, furrowing my brow as I look at the keychain, where his fingers are still resting.

“Well, the salesman almost ripped me off. So be careful—I bought this T-shirt for $12, and thank God I caught the price tag, because the second I pulled out a $20 he tried to charge me the full thing. Don’t pull out big bills in front of him.” He tells me this while raising his hand, hidden behind the yellow T-shirt he’s holding, and glancing at it in a way that shows their exchange was tense.

I gasp and widen my eyes—a bit exaggeratedly, but that’s all part of the game—“I don’t want to get tricked.”

He meets my gaze and raises an eyebrow. “Just try to… stay calm no matter what amount he offers you, and everything will be fine.” His smile returns as I blink, my eyes resting on my keychain, now free from his gentle touch.

“I’ll stay calm and everything will be fine… right?” I repeat, and he nods in agreement.

A brief silence settles between us, our eyes still locked on each other, but I break it with the intention of speaking—only for his lips to part at the same time.

“Would you mind if I got your number?”

“Are you with someone?”

Because of the deafening noise all around us, our sentences overlap, making them less clear, but I still manage to catch what he had just said to me.

“Number?” I repeat like a parrot.

“Um, yeah, your phone number… unless that’s a problem for you?” He then asks me the question, his eyes searching mine for an answer. I blink a few times before giving him a smile.

“I don’t mind.”

And so, after slipping my fan into one of the back pockets of my shorts and wrapping my keychain around one of my fingers, I began rummaging through my suitcase—left forgotten next to the shelf—the only thing that would allow me to give him my phone number, in search of my black diary. Once my suitcase was closed, I picked it up from the floor, stood up, and opened my poor friend to tear out a page.

Using my navy blue fountain pen, I write my phone number on this pretty piece of paper—which isn’t quite perfect—using the back of my diary as a surface. I can see his blurry shirt in front of me, before turning my gaze back to my handwriting.

I can feel his eyes on my fingers as they write.

“Voilà.” I finally say, tucking my diary between my arm and my side, while with my free hand I hold out the torn piece of paper. He takes it without a moment’s hesitation.

“I’m not often free, but if, one day, I ever get the chance to meet you, I won’t hesitate to call you.” I look up to meet his gaze, which is locked on mine, filled with curiosity and anticipation.

However, I'm quickly disappointed.

One day? He must be one of those guys who spends all his time drinking beer with his friends… fine.

I was about to answer him, but when I glanced at my watch, my hand stayed raised. It said 4:50 p.m. My eyes widened, and I look up again. “Uh—okay, that’s cool! Let’s do that… I’m going to be late, and I have a friend inside, I also need to pay for this keychain… it was nice meeting you, but I have to go.”

I see him furrowing his brow, and I furrow mine even more as he stares at me, watching me start to move. Okay, that might sound a little rude.

I take a few steps back, waving to him before grabbing my suitcase and walking past him. I feel a hand on my forearm. I turn my head and meet a pair of brown eyes with a slight green tint.

“Your name.” It’s not just a question, but rather a demand, a necessity. I part my lips while holding his gaze, then say my first name. He smiles, his eyes resting on my moving lips before repeating my name after I’ve said it. It seems he likes that.

He then let me go, and as I walked away, I glanced back over my shoulder one last time before disappearing like Kali behind that curtain. Goodbye, pretty man.

What are the odds he’ll call me anyway? Most of the guys who asked me the same question never gave me another chance to hear their voices or see their faces again. That’s just how it goes, and it’s only human—I don’t blame them.

However, I would be truly heartbroken to pass up a chance to share an intimate moment with a man like him. Just think of his voice during the act—it was already so seductive and husky when he spoke to me… I wonder what other sounds he might make.

The smell inside the store is exactly the same as the one I noticed outside—a mix of warm plastic and wood. On the ceiling, a ventilation fan hums softly as it turns slowly. The temperature is slightly cooler than outside, probably because the curtain blocks out the light.

Once I’ve taken the time to pack my diary and my navy blue fountain pen into my suitcase, I scan the store for Kali. I spot her at the counter, standing near the salesperson, who appears to be a young adult with very short brown hair, dressed in brown and yellow. Next to him, a radio is playing, and I realize that the ambient noise outside was also music.

He holds a newspaper in one hand, while the other is outstretched, palm open toward my friend. This gesture of his conveys just one word: money.

I take a deep breath and walk toward Kali, who is pulling out her wallet. The music grows louder as I get closer to her and the salesman. I glance at him, and he glances back—our eyes meet, his light blue eyes meeting mine. From a distance, his youthful appearance is deceptive, because I can make out a few wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. He looks young, but at the same time, he doesn’t really—does that make sense?

Kali calls my name with an “Oh—” and I immediately turn to look at her. “I see you found something?” she says, staring at the keychain I’m holding in my hand. I nod and hold it up so she can get a better look. She runs her fingertips over the Brazilian bracelet and smiles, “It’s so pretty." I nod in agreement, “Good choice,” she adds.

A soft clearing of the throat draws our gaze from the bracelet to the young man, whose blue eyes are watching both of us.

Kali quickly apologizes, saying, “Oh, sorry, wait.” Then she pulls a bill out of her wallet.

Don’t pull out big bills in front of him.

I stare at the guy taking the ticket, who has a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eyes. Then I turn my gaze to Kali, who is eagerly waiting for the items she bought. He hands her an orange T-shirt along with a few trinkets, including several colorful postcards decorated with drawings, stone jewelry, and a bottle filled with layers of colored sand.

Kali thanked him by saying, “Obrigado.” She picked up her items and put them in a brown cloth bag she was already holding in her hand, which I hadn’t noticed.

I see the man give her a warm smile, and he replies in his own language, “Imagina, gata.” Although I don’t understand what he just said, it sounds friendly, which makes me relax my facial muscles, which had been on high alert against any insult or malice. But what was he talking about? He doesn’t look like a scammer at all.

Kali smiles at the man before stepping aside to let me through. I glance at him briefly before walking up to the counter to hand over my item—the keychain. When I look up, I catch the man’s eye. He’s staring at the keychain, seeming to search for the right words to say to me. I wait impatiently, tapping my fingers on the counter.

Suddenly, he looks up at me, gives me a smile, and tells me the price.

“Damn it, $14 for a keychain?!” I blurted out as I stormed out of the store, furious at the salesman. He didn’t even give me a genuine smile like the one he’d given Kali, instead, he seemed more interested in the twenty-dollar bill I handed him. “And you only paid 12 dollars for all that… how is that possible?” My anger is at its peak.

Kali and I are walking again, this time toward the meeting spot where Robin is normally already there with her friends. We left at 4:57 p.m., which means we’re running a little late, but that’s not a problem.

As I drag my suitcase along with a thoroughly annoyed look on my face, I feel Kali’s gaze on the side of my face. “He wasn’t lying after all...” I murmur, and she picks up on my words.

“Who?”

I turn my gaze toward the bustling street stretching out before us, searching for her dark eyes, filled with questions, one in particular, “Um, I ran into a guy… in front of the store, while you were inside.” I struggle to explain, stumbling over a few words, because a realization has just hit me.

I didn’t get his name.

He got mine, but I didn’t get his.

“A guy?” Kali repeats with a smile. I glance at her and say, “I just realized he didn’t tell me his name, even though I gave him mine and my phone number…”

“You’re not that smart. I hope for your own sake he’s not a serial killer.” My friend reacts by raising her eyebrows just as she says “serial killer.”

“No, no, he’s really not… a serial killer. If he were, that would be the worst, because he’d only have two victims. But I swear it’s not true, Kali.” I rush to reply, staring at her with wide eyes. No, he’s not a serial killer, and yes, I should have been more careful about giving him my name and phone number so easily, because he is very attractive.

“All right… so let’s say he’s not a serial killer—do you think he might call you? What did he look like?” Her voice betrayed a hint of curiosity, and I gave her a slight smile before glancing around. “He was good-looking, wasn’t he?”

I glance at her, twirling the keychain around my finger, and say in a feigned innocent tone, “He was not too bad… kinda cute.”

Kali narrows her eyes and flashes a sly smile. "How was he?" she asks me after a moment of silence.

I turn my gaze toward the sky, tilting my head to one side, pretending to find the answer in the vastness of the pure blue, with not a cloud in sight. Then, I finally lower my head to look at her and give her the answer, drawn from my recent memories of him.

A voice booms powerfully, like a shout, all around us. It calls out my name. Kali and I exchange a glance before turning our eyes toward the source of the voice, the place from which it comes.

Unfamiliar faces greet us, while children playfully jump rope. I squint, trying to place that familiar voice. It’s no coincidence—I’m certain of it.

Once again, someone calls my name. This time, I walk toward the voice with Kali by my side. As I walk, I notice a couple getting up from a bench, and I spot a young woman with blonde hair standing a little further away. She shifts from foot to foot to get a better look at us and waves her hand in our direction.

“Robin!” I exclaim suddenly, catching Kali’s puzzled gaze before she turns her eyes toward the figure in the distance, a smile spreading across her face, just like mine—realizing that it is indeed Robin. “Finally!” I let out a sigh of relief, the heat bothering me only a little now.

Kali and I head toward Robin, who’s waving at us enthusiastically with her bubbly energy. Before we reach her, a group of teenagers cuts across our path, blocking us and stopping us in our tracks.

Robin is as beautiful as ever, her hair having grown out a bit since we last met. She’s wearing a casual outfit consisting of blue jeans and a white T-shirt emblazoned with the logo of her favorite band. She says my name again, followed by Kali’s, now that we’re closer. Close, meaning I can now see the faces of the strangers watching me closely—faces that belong to her friends. “It’s so great to see you both! We’re totally going to have a good time here!” Robin exclaims, with charming speed and touching kindness.

I give her a warm smile, set down my suitcase, and walk over to hug her, which she accepts by pulling me close. The hug doesn’t last long, and Robin turns her gaze toward Kali, who gives her a shy wave before being surprised when Robin hugs her too. I can’t help but laugh at this interaction, because Kali isn’t really the hugging type. They only know each other through me, since our time together has been rare—Kali is from Chicago, I’m from California, and Robin is from Hawkins. Sure, Hawkins isn’t very lively, but it seems like Robin loves it.

Nevertheless, Robin remains very friendly and warm toward Kali. She even expressed her delight at having her along for the trip, emphasizing what a great opportunity it is to spend more time together, rather than limiting themselves to brief encounters twice a year.

“It’s great to see you again, Kali. You’ll see, you won’t be disappointed.” Robin says as she lets go of her. I glance around and catch the eye of that little idiot, Eddie, who abandoned us earlier.

He’s talking to a young woman with long brown hair, wearing a lovely pink dress adorned with white and yellow floral patterns. She’s truly beautiful. My gaze is quickly drawn to another woman’s face, which suddenly appears before me—she has beautifully curly brown hair and exudes an air of innocence—and she’s just as pretty. Her freckles catch my eye.

“My name is Nancy.” She holds out her hand for me to shake, and I stare at her questioningly, not having had a chance to catch my breath before she introduced herself so quickly.

“Nancy?” I repeat her name before introducing myself, offering her my hand with a warm smile—one that mirrors the one she gives me, her eyes sparkling with joy. “It’s a pleasure to meet you! Robin really kept the other guests a secret—she didn’t even mention your names.” She tells me this, gently letting go of my hand and shooting Robin a disapproving look, which she returns with a satisfied smile.

“What? A little bit of mystery makes trips more interesting.” That was Robin’s only explanation, and I burst out laughing, followed by Kali and Nancy.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, too.” I reply to Nancy, who smiles back at me before turning her gaze to a young man with short brown hair and brown eyes, who is watching me intently—and who isn’t Robin.

“Jonathan.” He extends his hand to me as well, and I gently take it in mine. I give him a warm, friendly smile. Jonathan seems like a nice guy—maybe a little too innocent.

Following Kali’s conversation with them, my attention turns back to Eddie and the woman walking toward us, deep in conversation. Robin notices that I’m watching them and calls out to Eddie and the woman, whom I recognize as “Kristen.”

“Eddie, hurry up, stop dawdling—it’s starting to get hot, and I don’t want to get back late.” Nancy’s voice rings out between you, a little louder as she scolds Eddie, who shoots her a look of deadly boredom.

“Yeah, mommy.” he replies, then turns to you, accompanied by Kristen, who’s wearing a big smile. Her eyes are brown and her skin is glowing, with a light tan. She’s really beautiful. “I’ve already met them, so this is Kali, a very charming woman, and next to her is the grumpy one.”

My face darkens as I listen to his words. The grumpy one.

“Grumpy?” I retort accusingly. “I’m the grumpy one! What about you? You left us right in the middle of nowhere, with no help at all, even though you’re supposed to be our guide, you speak Portuguese, and you know Rio inside out. I may be a complainer, but you’re really not friendly." Suddenly, I let all my anger spill out through my words. He can’t say something like that. The heat intensifies throughout my body in this scorching climate, and my skin is still itching.

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Kali shaking her head, clearly disagreeing with my sudden change of mood. Next to me, Robin and Nancy give me a strange look, amused by the crazy expression on my face as I stare at Eddie. Eddie, looking at me with a finger practically pressed against his nose, then points at me with it and says, “But you didn’t ask either.” I’m going to kill him.

I was about to respond, but Robin stepped between Eddie and me. She stared at him before declaring in a serious tone, “Apologize, or our vacation is going to get bad already.”

I notice that Eddie first glances at me, then at Robin, before gently pushing her aside with one hand to step closer to me. He stands in front of me and bows the same way he did earlier, saying, “A thousand apologies, please forgive my bad behavior.”

I’m not sure if he’s mocking me, but as he straightens up with an innocent smile, I cross my arms and stare at him intently. I raise an eyebrow and declare, “I don’t really feel like accepting your apology, but I’ll do it for Robin’s mental health… so, I accept. However, don’t you dare speak to me during this trip.” I give him a smile as wide as his.

Eddie gives me a sidelong glance before nodding, "I accept too." I catch Robin's sigh of relief, and my attention shifts back to Kristen, her blue eyes, who is now staring at me in a strange way.

With her arms crossed, she eyes me from head to toe, her long hair dancing across her face in the wind. Then I hear Robin say again, “Kristen, meet my best friend.” She says my name, and Kristen gives me a smile that seems a little too stiff. I wonder what’s wrong with them—first Eddie, then Kristen. She was glowing just a moment ago, and now I feel a chill settling between us for no apparent reason.

It's probably just in my head.

Kristen tilts her head toward me, then opens her glossy lips, “I’m so happy to meet Robin’s best friend… I love—.” One of her arms uncrosses as she moves a hand toward her neck, her fingers pointing to a ghostly necklace. I realize then that she’s talking about my gold necklace, which features a medallion shaped like a golden mermaid.

My eighteenth birthday.

For my eighteenth birthday, my parents had given me a memorable gift—the necklace and a beach party, a bit too extravagant. I mostly remember spending most of my time in a quiet corner, talking with a young boy, admiring the waves while he enjoyed kissing me. It’s a long story.

I simply say, “Thank you.” The mermaid dances between my fingers before I look up to meet her eyes, which are already fixed on me.

Robin’s voice rings out again, and Kristen looks away from me to turn toward Eddie and then toward Robin. “I’d have liked to introduce you to Steve, but he doesn’t seem to want to come… but—damn it, has anyone seen that asshole?" Her irritation is starting to show, and I glance at Kali before scanning the area, my curiosity betraying me.

Steve is her best friend, whom Robin reduces to two nicknames: either “idiot” or “pathetic flirt” . That’s right. Unfortunately for me, I’ve never had the chance to run into him, since he seems to prefer staying home. As for me, I didn’t really feel like getting to know someone who didn’t want to meet me in the first place. He didn’t seem all that interesting to meet.

“The last time I ran into him, he told me he was planning to take a little walk around town… after that, I don’t know exactly where he went.” Jonathan’s voice rings out, and I turn my gaze toward him, who is watching Robin, who is clearly less energetic and rather on edge.

My eyes meet Robin's, her lips part, and she seems about to say something to me.

“Guys, you need to check out the amount of alcohol in the restaurant near the theater—there’s at most fifty bottles—a whole shelfful.” A man’s voice suddenly fills the air around us, coming from behind Eddie and Kristen. 

As soon as I hear the voice, I recognize it immediately.

That made me smile.

“Steve! For fuck’s sake, you really can’t be on time.” Robin almost shouted as she approached him, whom I could see over Kristen’s shoulder. Kristen immediately turned to stare at him, followed shortly after by Eddie.

I’m stunned, but happy, as I watch the young man from the store approach Kristen, standing right behind her. He gives Robin a disinterested glance, then tilts his head slightly. I'm ready to call him. Kristen, for her part, turns her whole body to face him, and he kisses her. A sincere kiss. Truly.

A kiss.

Every trace of joy vanishes from my face. I need to throw up.

Steve Harrington.

No, that’s not true. They can’t—I haven’t seen that man—he’s not the one who was standing in front of that damn strip curtain. He’s not the guy who was staring at me as if no other woman shared his bed. No, I might still be wrong.

I could be wrong. Robin continues her conversation with Steve, who, after finishing kissing Kristen, looks at her and rolls his eyes. He says a few words I don’t catch. It’s a little fuzzy, haha. Yeah, yeah, that’s right. Steve turns his head and meets my gaze. His eyes widen a little.

My heart is beating a little too fast. Ah ah, he seems surprised too. I’m wrong, aren’t I? 

“Steve, look, these are my friends. These are friends we should have all welcomed here, but you chose to spend your time elsewhere instead of coming here and showing a little respect.” Steve spent his time flirting with me—that’s what he did. 

He lied to me. He asked for my number surely only to ignore me—that’s it, he was just being nice—especially since he seems to have a girlfriend.

Steve is still staring at me, just as I stand frozen, like a statue that adorns Rio. I’m speechless. I doubt my ability to speak to him. His eyes, wide open, suddenly seem devoid of emotion. He seems distant.

“Steve, please introduce yourself to them. We don’t have all day.” Robin steps in, hands on her hips, seemingly unable to grasp the situation between Steve and me.

In reality, no one seems to really understand, because Kristen keeps shifting her eyes between Steve and Robin, looking amused. Eddie, for his part, stares at Kali in a way that seems too complex for me to grasp right now. Nancy gives Robin a tender look, while Jonathan suddenly finds himself holding a camera, capturing the landscape around us.

All of this is happening while my own world seems to have frozen for half a second because of some moron.

He blinks and looks away from my surprised expression. “Yeah, right—uh, I’m Steve Harrington. Robin’s good friend. Nice to meet you—both.” He regains a serious expression, seeming to play a role, and doesn’t look at all like the guy I met earlier.

I shoot at Robin a suspicious look, but she isn’t looking at me, focusing solely on Steve—arms crossed.

“Same.” Kali’s voice snaps me out of my trance, stretching out a little too long. I feel disoriented. I come to my senses, and my eyes shift from Kali to Steve—who’s no longer staring at me, even when I repeat Kali’s words. Like a parrot.

I was taught to be wary of strangers, and today, I’m convinced of that lesson. This man lied to me straight to my face, as if I were an idiot. And I can assure you that’s not the case—I’m not stupid.

I have a sudden headache.

“That’s great, so what did you want to tell us about, Kristen? Hurry up, because I can’t wait to get back to the hotel and show them their rooms.” Robin steps in front of me, her hands gesturing in sync with her words, and she seems a little too anxious.

I look at Kristen, whose face is now much more radiant than before. A wave of anxiety washes over me when I set my eyes on Steve, who is staring at her with the same intensity. This is unacceptable—yes, that’s exactly it.

“We both wanted to tell you all, I mean, announce that we have—” Steve’s voice begins, but Kristen turns to Robin, raising one of her hands—a sparkle glinting in the sun draws attention to her ring finger, it’s striking. A diamond.

“We’re getting married!” she exclaims, almost shouting, her face beaming with excitement and happiness, a wide smile on her lips. Steve, at her side, also flashes a big smile revealing his white teeth, while Kristen takes his hand and raises it too, the silver ring glinting on his ring finger. I swallow, feeling uncomfortable.

Everyone almost gasps in surprise, while Robin stands frozen in place. Nancy quickly approaches them to examine the beautiful ring. Eddie gives Steve a friendly pat on the back, while Jonathan captures the moment by taking a photo of the whole group. Even Kali comes over to congratulate them.

I stand frozen, not knowing how to react, a knot in my stomach making me feel nauseous.

The guy from the store is getting married. Fucking hell.

It would be weird for me to congratulate them, since I don’t even know them.

I stick to my decision and, instead of joining them, I turn away and crouch down to open my suitcase. I take out my water bottle—still surprisingly cold—that I’d left there. I stand up and take a sip, feeling a sensation of heat on the back of my head. The sun, my clumsiness, and him—what on earth could I have done?

Hearing Robin call my name, I turn around, holding the bottle in one hand and my keychain in the other. I face this group of friends in the midst of their celebration. “Come take the picture—let’s capture our first group photo of the trip!” Robin exclaims enthusiastically, pulling me by the arm to join them. Almost everyone is already in position for Jonathan’s camera, which is already pointed at them.

As soon as I approach them—especially him—my skin flushes. He’s still standing behind Kristen, that young woman full of smiles and joy. If only you knew that your very special fiancé literally tried to seduce me just 10 minutes ago. So the wedding is ruined—no?

I was about to stand next to Eddie, but he left me to join Kali. As soon as the spot opens up, I look up and catch Steve’s eye, who’s staring at me out of the corner of his eye with a weird look on his face.

You’re not going to talk to me anymore, are you? 

I walk over to Steve with no other choice, looking away from him to focus on the camera, without showing the slightest smile.

Am I the first to receive his advances, or is this just one of his habits?

I feel his hand rest on my lower back. I take a sudden breath and slide my hand behind me, discreetly wrapping it around his, but a little too abruptly for him to pull it away. Heat floods my nerves, and Steve isn’t sparing me with his lies.

Now I’m going to have to spend my vacation with a guy I really wanted to fuck. It’s so fucking unfair.

Everyone is gathered together, and Jonathan starts counting down in a loud voice. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Kristen snuggling up against Steve’s chest in a way that’s way too affectionate. I feel like throwing up—it’s unbearable. Robin wraps her arm around my shoulders and moves closer to me. I glance at Steve, who’s already staring at me, as if to warn me. I return his gaze with a blank expression and a dark look, less friendly than last time.

“Everyone, smile!” At that moment, they all flashed a smile, while Steve looked away to smile at the camera. I copied him. I can’t let myself get dragged into this mess.

When Jonathan announces that we’re done, I quickly step away from the uncomfortably close proximity between Steve and me and head toward my suitcase. Kali gives me a strange look, but I ignore her immediately. They mustn’t know about this—it’s too embarrassing.

“Oh, I’m so happy for you two. I’d love to be your maid of honor! Please, let me!” Robin pleads with the happy couple, who are still locked in each other’s arms.

I watch them closely, trying to spot even the slightest flaw in their seemingly perfect relationship. It’s inconceivable that he was trying to seduce me when he’s in a relationship with this girl. Is he really sane?

Kristen smiles at Robin, resting her hand on Steve’s shirt. “Of course you’ll be there! I want to see all of you at the wedding, otherwise I’ll be really, really sad.” She pouts a little.

There must be something.

Robin turns around and calls out my name. I see her telling me, “You have to be the bridesmaids too, just like Kali and Nancy!” She shares the news with eyes sparkling with happiness, glancing over at the other girls as well.

I bite my lip and force a smile. “I think there might be a bit too much of us, and maybe Kristen has other people in mind for the bridesmaids..." I say this while looking at Robin, then at Kristen, who stares at me intently before smiling. Over there, Steve shoots me an unfriendly look, narrowing his eyes.

She admits, “Don’t worry, I think we’ll have enough dresses for several bridesmaids.” Well, fuck.

I force a smile.

Shortly after, the conversation resumed among them. To avoid drawing attention, I sit down on my suitcase, watching the landscape and the people going about their business in front of me, all while playing with my water bottle and my keychain. Jonathan, meanwhile, takes a few more photos, which suggests he’s either a photographer or passionate about photography.

The knot in my stomach remains, and the water can’t wash it away. I can’t pretend to be a hypocrite right now. I’m just not in the mood.

As I fiddle with the cap of my bottle and wait for us to leave, I suddenly notice a shadow looming over me, plunging me into darkness. I look up and turn around to see Steve behind me, staring at the landscape in front of him. I do the same.

“Don’t tell anyone.” His voice rises above me, deeper, as if he’s afraid of being heard—that the others are listening.

I keep my tone calm and, rolling my eyes, say, “Tell what, exactly?”

“That I hit on you.” His voice is even lower than before. I stifle a laugh—he can’t be serious, can he? “Your nasty habits are none of my business, so trust me, I won’t say a word.” I reply in a low, sarcastic tone—my fingers playing with the bottle cap.

I hear him clear his throat. “I’m dead serious. Don’t say a word. I'm—I… it would be good if we could talk about this… like, tonight, in private.” He continues in a low, measured voice, so low that I have trouble making out his words, while the voices of Robin, Nancy, and Eddie grow louder and louder.

I frown. Tonight? “No, thanks.” I reply tersely before taking a sip from my bottle.

“I’m not giving you a choice.” He says my name with great intensity, almost solemnly. I let out a deep sigh, and as I lift my head, I turn to look at him. However, I’m quickly stopped when his hand rests on my chin, forcing me to turn my face away so I can no longer look at him. 

He seems slightly panicked. Okay, he’s freaking weird.

“You’re really funny… so what if I don’t do that?” I say, making no attempt to hide the fact that I’m not joking—the mischief of a threat excites me a little too much. “You should’ve thought about that before asking for my phone number, Steve.” I say his name quietly, my eyes resting on an old lady accompanied by her grandson.

“This isn’t funny, really, not at all.” He speaks in such a serious tone that it makes me smile. Ooh la la, the man who was so bold with me is acting all shy in front of his friends.

I roll my eyes and say, “Don’t worry, I’m not a home wrecker.”

"Let's go, guys. We might miss our 6:30 p.m. reservation." After hearing Nancy's voice, I glance at my watch—it's 5:34 p.m.

Turning around, I notice that Steve is no longer behind me but is standing next to Robin and Kristen. His shoulders seem slightly tense. I straighten up and grab my suitcase with my free hand. As soon as we start walking, Kali catches up to me, each of us walking side by side. Robin tells us we’re heading to the hotel. I listen while watching Steve’s back as he walks hand in hand with Kristen.

“Hey! C'mon boys, where are your manners? These girls have been lugging their stuff around all day. Go grab their suitcases—now!” Nancy declares, stopping abruptly and bringing everyone to a halt, including Kali and me. My eyes immediately turn to Steve, but he doesn’t turn around. In fact, it’s Eddie who rushes to take Kali’s suitcase, while Jonathan takes care of mine. Two well-mannered boys and one little devil.

Back on the road, my thoughts inevitably turn to him and our meeting. Kali, for her part, doesn’t say much, preferring to observe her surroundings with a look of wonder. It’s a good thing she isn’t talking to me, because I’m not really there.

Why should I meet him tonight, if it’s just so he can ramble on with the same gibberish as before? And how can anyone do that?

My eyes shift from the azure sky to the devil, who seems to be having fun with Kristen, laughing at her words. I have to put an end to my obsession with him, today.

Stop it.

💛

[tags] : @artismytherapy05