As his hand slid up her creamy white thighs, she could feel his huge member pulsating with desire…

Mike was looking down at his hands, interlaced in his lap, until Ms. Kelley shut her laptop.  She smiled at him politely, and he smiled back.  “So!” she began, checking his file again.  “Michael—”

“Just Mike,” he nodded.

“Right.  Well, we’re glad to have you at Hawkins High— it shouldn’t be too different from your last high school!  You were well-behaved your freshman year, correct?”

“Uh, mostly… one or two tardies, that’s it,” he assured.

“Great!  That means if you see me again, something’s gone horribly wrong.”

“Huh?”

“This is where kids with behavior problems get sent.  Deviants, misfits, sluts, weirdos, creeps— they all have to come in and chat with me to get their shit straightened out.”

“Their what?” Mike repeated.  “Are you— am I in the right office?”

“Not anymore, my novel isn’t gonna finish itself,” she announced.  “So scoot.”

He didn’t, at first, too stunned.

“Scoot!”

He jumped up, trying to process what conversation just occurred, only to bump into someone as he backed out of the doorway.  “Watch it!” a firm voice warned him, and he spun to look up in ill-suppressed terror at the guy he’d just collided with.

Mike was too intimidated to even choke out an apology; it’s hard to say where to start with what scared him most.  Maybe the chains, maybe the leather jacket and denim vest, maybe the glare?  Yeah, it was definitely the glare— that was what made Mike cower and dart away before it could get any worse.

“Ah, Mister Munson!” Ms. Kelley greeted with faux sweetness.  “I see we're making our visits a weekly ritual.”

As her smile fell, Eddie’s grew.  “Only so we can have these moments together,” he cooed, taking another step inside.  “Should I hit the lights?”

“Oh, very clever, trailer park boy,” she offered flatly as she examined the incident report already in his file.  “Apparently you exposed yourself in the cafeteria?”

“I was just joking around with my bandmates,” he promised.  “It was a bratwurst.”

“Bratwurst,” she repeated, raising an eyebrow and glancing down— ostensibly at his handcuff belt buckle.  “Aren’t we the optimist?”

A hint of Eddie’s resolve faded as she tilted her head and smiled at him cheerily again.

“Next time, keep your dangler in your Wranglers, mkay?” she suggested, chipper yet hollow.

Eddie shook his head as he left, leaving Ms. Kelley to return to her desk and re-open her computer.  Examining her screen, she erased one word and replaced it.

…she could feel his huge bratwurst pulsating with desire…

~

“Hey!  Mike, right?” 

Mike turned, seeing another sophomore standing in front of him with a high top on his head and hightops on his feet.  “Yeah!” Mike answered.

“I’m Lucas,” the other student offered with an extended hand for a shake.

Mike sighed with relief as he returned the handshake energetically, noticing Lucas’ basketball uniform.  “You know, normally they send down one of those audio/video geeks.”

Lucas nodded; “Yeah, I know— I know what you mean.”

Right on cue, Dustin Henderson rolled by with the A/V cart.  “Hey, Lucas,” Dustin nodded, “where should I put the radio equipment?”

Lucas coughed and brushed Dustin away.  “Lucas?” he shook his head, pretending he had no idea who that could be, as he ditched a bewildered Dustin and guided Mike along down the hall.

As they walked past a crowd of popular seniors, Lucas motioned towards them.

“So, over here, you’ve got your basic beautiful people,” he explained, “unless they talk to you first, don’t talk to them.”

“Is that your rule or theirs?”

“Watch,” Lucas offered, nodding in their direction.  “Hey there,” he greeted.

“Who are you talking to?” Steve ‘the Hair’ Harrington asked with a sneer.

“See?” Lucas smiled at Mike, who shook his head as they moved along.  “Anyways, you’ve got your Diet Coke drinkers,” he explained as he motioned toward a crowd of students all holding red cans.  “Very edgy, don’t make any sudden movements around them.”

Mike nodded in understanding, trying to keep up— literally, since Lucas kept walking quickly, but also in terms of the explanation of Hawkins High’s social dynamics.

“You’ve got your basic stoners—”

A senior with long black hair and bloodshot eyes caught Mike’s attention.  “Hey, nice threads, man,” the stoner complimented with a smile, “Ocean Pacific?”

“And your surfers—”

Mike gawked at the muscular, tan guy with a blonde mullet and, for some reason, no shirt on.  “Does he walk around like that at school?” he wondered aloud, but Lucas didn’t notice.

“— even though the closest they’ve been to the ocean is when they drink Ocean Spray cranberry juice.”

As Lucas laughed at his own joke, they walked through the courtyard.  

“And this is our fearless Hawkins High basketball team!” Lucas explained, setting his hands on one of the player’s shoulders as they passed their lunch table.  “Go Tigers, huh?”

The players scowled at him as Lucas’ hand was shrugged off; he crossed his arms.

“Yesterday I was their up-and-coming star,” Lucas recalled with a roll of his eyes.

“What happened?” Mike asked.

“Patrick McKinney started a rumor that my Converse were fake,” Lucas explained with a sigh.  

“So they’re freezing you out?” Mike realized, offended on his behalf and concerned that everyone here was that superficial.

“I’ll get back in, don’t worry,” Lucas assured, but Mike wasn’t really worried about him so much as himself.

It was right then that Elle Hopper walked by, carrying with her the essence of youthful beauty and ingenue-ity.  Her busy patterned jumpsuit was every bit as colorful as her spirit; she laughed lightly with the redhead at her side, a few words of a conversation about a trip to the mall floating through the air.  

As time seemed to slow just for her, she tossed her hair over her shoulder, sending a wave of the scent of candy-sweet perfume right in Mike’s direction.

“Oh— wow,” Mike sighed like the wind had been knocked out of him.  “Who’s she?”

“She’s out of your league is who she is,” Lucas warned.

“And?”

“And she’s got this super scary dad— won’t let her or her sister date.  Ever,” Lucas announced firmly.

“How bad could he be, is he a hardened criminal or something?”

“Worse,” Lucas shook his head, “he’s the sheriff.”

“That’s worse?” Mike frowned.

“A criminal will just kill you.  The sheriff will actually get away with it.”

~

“So,” Ms. O’Donnell began, “what did everyone think of The Sun Also Rises?”

Bethany Walters raised her hand instantly, and you rolled your eyes— because of course she would.  “I loved it,” she cooed when she was called on.  “I was soooo romantic!”

You grimaced, unable to stop yourself from commenting (a habit of yours).  “Romantic?  Hemingway?!  Please— he was an abusive alcoholic misogynist—”

The rest of the class was already groaning and rolling their eyes, a few mutters of not this again here and there, but you kept going.

“— who squandered half his life hanging around Picasso trying to nail his leftovers.”

Yes, it was just like you to say something like that when Bethany was just trying to express a perfectly harmless opinion, but it was just like Jason to take it further.  “As opposed to an unlikeable, self-righteous loser with no friends?” he quipped.

You weren’t planning on saying anything, but thankfully Ms. O’Donnell stood up for you anyway.  “Quiet, Jason,” she scolded lightly— she was never that hard on him, because he was the star of the basketball team, but she also didn’t let him bully you that openly in class.

“I guess in this society, being male and an asshole makes you worthy of our time,” you concluded, shooting Jason a look over your shoulder, who simply smirked back at you.

And if it was just like you to say something snarky and politically-charged, and just like Jason to use it to insult you, then it was just like Eddie to show up late as if it were no trouble at all.  “What did I miss?” he asked with a smile as he burst in.

You answered instantly, without looking back: “The oppressive patriarchal values that dictate our education.”

“Great,” Eddie nodded, spinning on his heel and walking right back out again.

“W-wait!” Ms. O’Donnell called out, but Jason spoke again and took her attention away.

“How about we make a new rule— don’t come to class if you can’t handle your PMS,” he suggested jokingly.

“Jason!” she snapped.  “Watch your attitude.”

You smirked to yourself smugly, but that moment of righteous indignation didn’t last long.  

“And you,” she added, turning her attention to you, “go to the office.”

“What?  Why?!” you protested.

“Because— because you’re being disruptive!” she decided.

Sighing, you got up from your seat and slung your backpack over your shoulder.  As Jason snickered at you gleefully, you ‘accidentally’ let your textbook swing into his face, smacking that shit-eating look right off of him.

It was only a minute-or-so walk to the office, where you heard Ms. Kelley calling out to her assistant as you walked in. 

“What’s another word for engorged?” she asked her, stumping the receptionist.

“Tumescent?” you offered.

“Great!” she smiled, typing at her laptop; you had some inkling what she was using that word for, though you wish you were blissfully ignorant to her erotic exploits.  “So, were you terrorizing Ms. O’Donnell’s class again?”

You frowned.  “Terrorism is a pretty strong word for simply expressing my opinion.”

“How about the way you expressed your opinion to Billy Hargrove?  By the way, his testicle retrieval operation went quite well, if you were wondering.”

“In my defense,” you smirked, “I didn’t know he actually had balls when I kicked him.”

“The point is,” he sighed, less amused, “you tend to make a bad impression on others, and that’s not actually something to be proud of.  People see you as—”

“Opinionated?”

“The term used most often is ‘heinous bitch’,” she corrected.

The words themselves didn’t bother you too much— yes, they were sexist, but that was nothing new here— but the knowledge that people were actually saying this to Ms. Kelley gave you pause.  Were you really so traumatizing that they had to discuss you with the counselor?

“So, you might want to work on that,” she offered.  “Bye!”

You scoffed.  “As always,” you began as you stood, “thank you for your excellent guidance.  I’ll let you get back to writing about aching cores and quivering members.”

As you turned, quietly proud of yourself for standing up to her, you heard her ponder to herself, “huh… quivering member, I like that…”

~

In the parking lot, you and Robin were walking side-by-side to your car (since she’d gotten a ride from you today, and also every other day for the past year and a half) when you were nearly run over by Jason screeching up to the curb in his car; it was just like him: shiny and new, overvalued, a fabulous body with subpar machinery under the hood.

“Hey,” he nodded at you, flashing that taunting grin, “didn’t anyone ever tell you that you dress like a bog witch?”

“Aw, do you really mean that?” you beamed excitedly, and he frowned at his failed insult as he pulled his car up a little further.  If only he would’ve kept driving straight forward forever— he would’ve gone over the edge of the quarry eventually; but instead, he stopped… in front of your sister.

“Hi, ladies,” he greeted suavely, “care for a ride?”

You and Robin watched from beside your car— it was just like you, too: classic, older on the inside than it was on the outside, and debatably in need of a polish— in horror as Elle and Max hopped into the back of Jason’s convertible with all the girlish glee of two ingenues in over their head.

“Well, that’s a… charming new development,” Robin frowned.

“It’s disgusting,” you spat, hopping into the driver’s seat and turning the engine over.  As you pulled out of your spot, you nearly slammed into one of those varsity basketball dweebs speeding by on his bike.  “Hey!” you shouted at him, leaning out your window.  “Didn’t your mommy tell you to look both ways before riding that thing in the street?”

The kid cowered and biked away, and you shook your head as you pulled it back into the car.  

“I swear, these kids are getting dumber every year,” you sighed.  “I think there’s a little too much chlorine in the Hawkins gene pool.”

As Lucas pulled over by the curb by Mike, the new student stared at you and Robin driving away in the beat-up vintage.  “Are you okay?  She almost hit you,” Mike noticed.

“Oh, that’s nothing with your beloved’s older sister,” Lucas scoffed.  “I’m lucky I still have all my parts.”

“Wait, that’s Elle’s sister?!” Mike realized.

“Uh huh, in the legal sense,” Lucas agreed.  “Sheriff Hopper adopted them both when they were little— I assume he found his first daughter abandoned by a tribe of rampaging bitches or something.”

That was just one of many theories about how exactly your dad came to adopt you and your sister, though the real story was much less interesting; speaking of him, he usually got home from the station after you returned from school, with him working later in the afternoons and all.  When he returned home that particular day, he found you reading Jane Eyre on the sofa, and he smiled at you.  

“Hello, honey,” he greeted.  “Make anyone cry today?”

“Not yet,” you returned, “but it’s only four-thirty!”

He hummed and leaned in to kiss you on the forehead as you turned your page.  Right about then, Elle walked through the door— and you knew that she thought she would’ve just made it in time to beat Dad home by the cringe that crossed her face when she saw him.  “Hi Daddy!” she beamed, trying to play it cool.

“And where have you been?” you asked, getting a grimace from her for your shameless sell-out.

“Nowhere,” she dodged.

But Dad missed the exchange entirely, still going through the mail.  “What’s this?” he asked when he saw a massive white envelope.  “It says Sarah Lawrence?”

You hopped up off the couch at lightning speed, snatching the letter away and shredding it open like a kid on Christmas— but not you, some other generic kid, because even when you were little you liked to open presents carefully (it helped you temper your expectations).  “Oh my god!” you shrieked when you saw a massive congratulations.  “I got in!  I got in!!”

“Honey, that’s great,” your dad offered, “you can use that to negotiate better scholarships at Indiana State!”

You frowned.  “I know you want me to stay here—”

“We decided that you would stay here,” he countered.

“You decided.”

“So, what, you’re just gonna leave?” he realized with a saddened frown.

“We can dream,” Elle mumbled to herself— but not quite enough to herself, because you caught it and you raised your eyebrows in challenge.

“Why don’t you ask Elle who drove her home?”

“Don’t change the…” Dad trailed off, turning to Elle as he took the bait completely.  “Who drove you home?”

“N-now, don’t get upset, Daddy,” she pouted, “but… there’s this boy—”

“Who’s about as sharp as a marble,” you interjected.

“And I think he might ask me—” Elle continued, but this time your dad interrupted her.

“I think I know what he’s going to ask you.  And I think I know the answer: No!” he announced proudly.  “It’s always no!  You know the house rules: one, no dating until you graduate.  Two, no dating until you graduate!  Pretty simple stuff!”

“Daddyyyy,” Elle whined, making you roll your eyes at her.  “It’s so unfair!”

“You know what’s unfair?” he returned, looking at you too.  “Last week I had to drive a girl to the hospital, she went into labor alone in her car on the side of the road— and she’s fifteen.  You know what she said to me in between bouts of screaming in my backseat?”

“I’m a crackwhore who should have made my sleazy boyfriend wear a condom?” Elle assumed.

“No,” Dad frowned, “she said I should have listened to my father.”

“Oh, she did not,” Elle scoffed disbelievingly.

“Okay, no, she didn’t— but she was probably thinking it!” he insisted.

“Can we focus on me for a second please?” Elle pouted.  Like everything isn’t already focused on you, you thought to yourself.  “I’m the only girl in school who’s not dating.”

“No you’re not— your sister doesn’t date,” your dad reminded her.

You chimed in quickly: “And I don’t intend to.”

“And, why is that again?” he asked you with a pleased smile.

“Have you seen the unwashed champions of idiocracy that go to that school?!” you replied.

“God, where did you come from?  Planet Loser?” Elle spat.

“As opposed to Planet ‘Look at me! Look at me!’” you offered in your best passé, vapid voice with your eyes rolled back halfway.

“Okay, here’s a solution,” Dad decided suddenly, making you both perk up.  “Old rule’s stricken, new rule: Elle, you can date—”

She lit up immediately.

“When she does,” he finished, pointing at you.

“B-but, she’s a total freak!  What if she never dates?!” Elle whimpered.

“Then you’ll never date!  Oh, I like that,” he announced proudly.  “And I’ll get to sleep at night— the deep slumber of a father whose daughters aren’t out being impregnated.”

His police radio went off and he sighed.  

“I don’t have time for this right now,” he decided, directing his attention at you specifically for a moment: “We’ll talk about college later.”

Elle tried to get him to stay with a whine, but he was gone, and she was pissed at you once more.  “Can’t you find some loser sad enough to wanna go out with you so I can be normal?” she pouted.

“Sorry,” you shrugged, “guess you’ll miss out on some fabulously witty banter with Jason.”

“You suck!” she exclaimed as she stormed off.

“You suck!” you imitated her quietly before you went to your own room.

~

Mike’s patient, anxious waiting paid off when Elle sat down at the library table, setting down her books with a sigh.  

“Can we make this quick?” she asked, sounding a little exhausted already.  “Tammy Thompson and Tommy Hagan are having a horrendous, public break-up in the courtyard.  Again.”

“O-oh, yeah, okay,” Mike agreed, still a little stunned that he was sitting across from the object of his affection.  “I thought we’d start with pronunciation…”

“That’s the worst part,” Elle pouted, “I feel like I’m trying to cough up a loogie.”

“Well, then how about we start with cuisine?” he suggested, heart racing even though he’d practiced this a thousand times in the mirror at home.  “We could go to that French place on the square, maybe Saturday night?”

“You’re asking me out?” Elle realized, gentle shock lifting into a wide smile.  “That’s so cute!”

Mike’s eye twitched.

“What’s your name again?”

“Uh, it’s Mike,” he answered, “listen— I know your dad doesn’t let you date, but I thought if it was for French class—”

“Wait a minute, Mark,” she interrupted.

“Mike.”

“My dad just came up with a new rule!  He says I can date if my sister does,” she recalled.

“Really?” Mike perked up.  “Well, then let me ask you, do you like D&D?  ‘Cause we should totally do a oneshot together—”

“Uh, big problem, Mick,” Elle reminded him, “my sister is a perfect specimen of freakazoid.”

“Yeah, I noticed she’s… antisocial,” Mike offered sympathetically.  “Any idea why?”

“I don’t know,” Elle considered, glancing upward as she thought about it.  “She used to be, like, really popular, but it was like she got sick of it.  I’m pretty sure she’s just incapable of human interaction.  That or she has a brain tumor or something.  Either way, she’s a bitch.”

“Well, yeah,” Mike agreed half-heartedly, “but there’s plenty of guys who wouldn’t mind going out with a… difficult girl.  I mean, she’s not ugly; and people do crazier stuff all the time!  Jump out of airplanes, ski off cliffs, swim with sharks… it would be like extreme dating.”

Elle knitted her eyebrows together.  “You think you could find someone that extreme?”

“Why not?” Mike shrugged.

“And you’d do all that for me?” she pressed softly, reaching out to brush her hand over his arm.

Mike would do anything for her to touch his arm like that again.  “I-I mean, I could look into it…” he offered as his brain short-circuited.

And so he was determined. Which was why he and Lucas weren't actually paying any attention in science class that same day.

As they pretended to make progress on their frog dissection, Mike and his new friend were really scoping the room for local talent to potentially date Hawkins’ resident mega-bitch.  Their search so far had only turned up men like themselves: that being men afraid to get the Hargrove treatment and have their future generations compromised.  Turns out guys are generally pretty protective of their nuts.

“I told you it was impossible,” Lucas sighed, “no one will go out with her.”

Mike’s attention was taken by the partners two tables over— a massive, freckled kid with a leather jacket, and his buddy with a mess of rocker hair and a custom denim jacket; the latter was fooling around with butterfly knives, before using them to impale the frog carcass, because apparently the little pins provided just weren’t doing it for him.

“Hey, what about him?” Mike wondered, watching with a tilted head.    

“Woah, no, you don’t want to mess with that guy,” Lucas shook his head, “don’t even look at him.  He’s a criminal, he deals the harder stuff around school— you know, more than just pot.  I heard he lit a state trooper on fire.  He just did a year at Rikers.”

“Hey, well at least we know he’s horny,” Mike shrugged.

“I’m serious, he’s unhinged!” Lucas warned.  “He sold his own liver on the black market for a new set of speakers.”

Meanwhile, the metalhead had taken out a cigarette and was leaning down to light it on a Bunsen burner.  The display should’ve deterred anyone, but it made Mike smile optimistically.  “He’s our guy,” he insisted.

~

The basketball team was joking around at lunch as Chance shared an X-rated story from his date the night before, and Lucas took a deep breath as he waited for the perfect moment.

When all the guys laughed at something Chance had said, Lucas quickly slipped in and tried to blend in as he laughed along.

“Oh my— oh my god,” he got out breathlessly as he laughed, “wow, Chance, you’re hilarious.”

He wiped his eye, still laughing as the rest of the table’s reaction died down and they all glared at him.

“Are you lost?” Jason asked coldly.

Lucas sighed.  “No, I just… I thought maybe it was all water under the bridge by now.”

“It’s been less than forty-eight hours,” Andy noticed.

“Wow, nice counting, Andy— tomorrow we’ll work on shapes,” Lucas encouraged flatly.

Andy nearly jumped across the table, but Jason put a hand on his chest to hold him back.  

“Actually, truth is, I came here to… make a suggestion,” Lucas added, making Jason’s eyebrows raise.

“Go on…”

“You want Elle Hopper, right?  The sophomore?” Lucas continued.

“Yeah,” Jason shrugged, “she’s cute.”

“But she can’t date until her sister does,” Lucas went on.  “Your problem could be solved if you found someone to take her out.”

Jason laughed.  “Does anyone hate themselves that much?”

“Probably not, but people do like money…”

As Lucas bounced his eyebrows up and down, Jason seemed to put together what he was implying.  “You want me to pay someone off to date her?”

“I mean, I don’t want you to, but it’s an idea,” Lucas corrected.

“Do you know anyone that desperate for cash and unfazed by the prospect of emasculation?” Jason returned.

“Meet Eddie Munson,” Lucas beamed, motioning to the opposite end of the cafeteria where Eddie was ‘subtly’ trading a bag of pills for a twenty-dollar bill with another student.

“Munson?  The Freak?  I heard he ate a live duck once,” Jason grimaced.

“Everything but the beak and feet!  Clearly he’s a great investment,” Lucas beamed, but Jason remained suspicious.

“What’s in this for you?” he wondered.

“I think you know,” Lucas sighed, “I want back in— I know I’m still on the team, but I wanna be really on the team again.  I miss you guys!”

“You miss your chance to be popular,” Jason corrected.

“Also that!” Lucas agreed in a continued upbeat tone.

“Okay, I’ll see what I can do,” Jason agreed cautiously.  “Now, back to the loser table with you.”

As Jason shooed him away, Lucas moved across the way to the table where Mike was watching it all go down disapprovingly.  “Why do we need to get him involved again?” he wondered with a shudder.

“Calm down, he’s just our money man,” Lucas soothed.  “We let him think this is all his idea, meanwhile he’s busy dealing with Eddie and you have time with Elle.”

Mike sighed, concerned, but knowing he was out of other options.  Still, in a battle for ‘the girl’, he didn’t feel equipped to face a popular, handsome senior.

But when Eddie looked at Jason, he didn’t see a popular, handsome senior; none of that mattered to him.  He just saw: douche with a quaff.  So, while he was out taking a smoke break on the stands by the soccer field, he was surprised to see that very quaffed douche approaching him.

“Hey,” Jason offered Eddie with a nod— that very nod that made girls want him and guys want to be him, but it was powerless on Eddie, who just glared back at him while exhaling a cloud of smoke.  “How are you?”

Eddie blinked forward, barely aware of the Tiger-pride-green blur beside him.

Jason stammered as he tried again to break the ice.  “I, uh, had some great duck last night—”

“Do I know you?” Eddie wondered.  “Shit, are you buyin’?”  He didn’t seem the type, but hey— as long as he had cash, he was Eddie’s type, customer-wise.

“Uh, no,” Jason shook his head nervously.  “Well, actually, yes— but—”

“I don’t sell roofies, Romeo,” Eddie warned him.

“I’m not buying drugs!” Jason barked, a little too loud for something that’s supposed to be secret.  “I’m buying a date.”

Eddie’s eyes widened.  “Listen, Carver, you’re a good-looking guy, but—”

“No no!” Jason rushed out, face turning pink.  “Not for me!  For her!”

Jason pointed down the field to where you were running drills, sweating and determined, grunting as you kicked the ball across the grass.  “The Hopper chick?” Eddie noticed.

“Yeah!”

Eddie laughed sharply, and so did his friend beside him.  “Yeah, sure thing, champ— I’ll get right on that,” Eddie agreed sarcastically.

“Look, until someone goes out with her, I can’t bag her sister,” Jason explained with a sigh.

“What a shame,” Eddie stuck out his bottom lip, “how many years of therapy will you need to cope with this trauma?”

“I know you don’t care about me,” Jason crossed his arms, “but I’m thinking you care a bit about Andrew Jackson?”

“That racist son of a bitch?  He was a piece of—” Eddie began, but then Jason pulled the twenty out of his pocket and brandished it proudly, making Munson shut his mouth.

“Whaddaya say?” Jason prompted.  “For a crisp twenty, you could take out the lovely Miss Hopper—”

As they glanced down the field, the guys winced at the sight of you roughly body-checking another player, who fell to the ground with a cry.

“For a crisp thirty—” Jason began again, summoning a ten from his pocket.

“Well, now, let’s think about this,” Eddie pondered aloud.  “You’re paying me to take her out, but I’ve gotta actually take her somewhere: we’ll say the movies.  That’s fifteen bucks for two tickets.  We get popcorn, that’s… fifty.”

Jason scoffed.  He knew there was more than a little inflation going on in those numbers, but he also knew that the freak had him under his thumb in these negotiations.

“She’s gonna want Junior Mints, what do you know, we’re looking at seventy-five already,” Eddie smirked.

“What kind of gold-plated Junior Mints are you buying?” Jason rolled his eyes.

“What kind of girl is this chick’s little sister?” Eddie countered.  “Is she really worth it, or are you just blowing hot air?”

Jason was powerless to even such an obvious trap— he could never say no to a dare.  Eddie was really saying, are you chicken?  And Jason could probably be talked into fighting a bear while only armed with a butter knife if it was all to prove he was not, in fact, chicken.  “Fifty,” Jason spat, “final offer.”

A bill was produced from Carver’s designer wallet, and Eddie’s ring-covered fingers snatched it away and stuffed it into his pocket.  “Pleasure doing business with you,” Eddie offered with a sarcastically-saccharine smile, but Jason only rolled his eyes and wandered off.

Just then, Coach Hastings blew the whistle.  “Good hustle, girls, good hustle!” he offered to the team.  “Take a water break!”

Seeing the group of players disperse, Eddie waited until you were on your way to the cooler to snuff his cigarette and jog up beside you.  You shot him a look before he even said anything.  “Hey there, girlie,” Eddie greeted you, “how ya doin’?”

“Uh, sweating like a pig,” you answered, wiping your face on your uniform, “and yourself?”

“You sure know how to get a guy’s attention, huh?” he laughed nervously.

You seemed amused, but in more of an at way than a with way.  "My mission in life," you quipped.  "But, hey, clearly I captured your attention.  Lucky me."

He grinned as he watched you chug your water.  "So I'll pick you up Friday then?"

You choked, laughing as you nearly spit the water right onto him.  "Yeah," you agreed sarcastically as you wiped your chin, "sure, Friday."

"I'll take you places you've never been before," he promised lasciviously.

"Like where, the crackhouse on Miller Street?" you rolled your eyes.  "Do you even know my name, screwboy?"

"I know more than you think," he challenged.

"Well, for that to be true," you returned, "you'd have to know more than the average eighth-grade dropout."

You turned to leave, walking away with a shake of your head.  "Well that's easy!" he laughed as he called after you.  "I did eighth grade twice!"

From across the field, Mike and Lucas watched you ditch Eddie with cringes on their face.

"We're screwed," Mike sighed.

"Now wait a minute, where'd all your optimism go?  I wanna hear you upbeat!" Lucas beamed.

"We're screwed!" Mike repeated, a forced, cheesy smile glued to his face between two thumbs-up.

"That's better," Lucas approved, patting Mike on the back.

~

As you exited the local records store, empty handed due to the continued lack of good punk records available, you sighed at the sight of Eddie Munson leaning against your hood.

"Nice ride," he noticed.  "Vintage fenders?"

"Are you stalking me?" you asked instead, brushing past him to try to unlock your door, but he slid in front of you with crossed arms.

"I was in the laundromat," he assured, tilting his head to the washateria across the street, "I saw your car, that's all."

"Funny, you don't strike me as someone who washes their clothes," you mocked.

"Well, if you must know, I was there to make a sale," Eddie admitted.

"And what are you here for, blocking my door?" you wondered.

"To say hi!"

"Hi."

You tried to reach around him again to get the key in the lock but he put his hand over it.  "Not much of a talker, are you?"

"Not much of a listener, are you?  I'm not interested."

"Are you scared of me?" he asked— not a threat, not hopeful or disappointed, just a genuine question.

"Why would I be?"

"I dunno, most people are."

"Well, I'm not."

"Okay, you're not scared of me— but I bet you've thought about me naked," he purred, leaning in a little closer.

"Am I that transparent?" you gasped, faux worry dropping into deadpan disdain.  "I want you, I need you, oh baby, oh baby."

Just when he let you get into your car, finally, Jason Carver and his dick-compensation-mobile pulled up and screeched to a halt right behind you, blocking you in.

"The fuck?!  Is there some kind of creep convention going on at the record store?" you groaned, laying on your horn.  "Carver!" you barked as he hopped out and strolled by you.  "Move your gaudy-ass car!"

"No, thanks," he smiled at you as he walked along towards the storefront.

You felt helpless, until you got a dangerous idea— and fed up as you were, you couldn't resist it.  Flooring it in reverse, those vintage fenders of yours piercing right through the cherry-red paint and imported metal underneath.

Jason sure whipped his head around fast and gaped his mouth at the damage.  "You bitch!" he screeched.

Hearing Eddie's belly laugh, you looked at Jason and offered him only a flippant shrug and a "whoops!"

"WHOOPS?!" your dad repeated, pacing around the kitchen as you sat at the table.  "My insurance doesn't cover teen angst!"

You shrugged again.  "Then tell them it was a seizure or something."

"Are you punishing me?" he wondered.  "Because I don't want you to go to Sarah Lawrence?"

"Are you punishing me for standing up for myself?" you countered.

“No, but I’d prefer you didn’t do it in such an expensive way!”

You scoffed.  “I’d prefer that you stopped making my decisions for me.”

“Well—” he began, but he was cut off by his police radio sounding off.  

“Chief Hopper, come in— Chief Hopper, this is dispatch, we have a 10-54…” the nasal feminine voice came through.

You both sighed and he picked up the radio.  “Chief here, I’ll head there now.”  He turned to you with a pointed finger.  “We’ll discuss this later,” he promised, or threatened, depends on how you look at it.  As he left, Elle stormed in, fuming at you.

“Did you just maim Jason’s car?!” she yelped.

"Allegedly," you grinned.  "Looks like little miss princess is gonna have to ride the bus with the unwashed masses.”

~

As Eddie shut his locker, he was startled by Jason glowering on the other side.  “Shit,” Eddie blurted out.

“When I shell out fifty, I expect results,” Jason frowned.

“I’m working on it,” Eddie insisted, brushing Jason off as he grabbed his books and shut his locker.

“Standing by while she violated my car doesn’t count as a date,” Jason reminded him.  “I don’t get any if you don’t, so you better figure out how to charm this chick or—”

“I just upped my price,” Eddie decided suddenly.

Jason had just turned to walk away, but that made him look at Eddie again.  “Excuse me?”

“A hundred bucks a date, in advance,” Eddie announced.

“Forget it,” Jason dismissed.

“Then forget her sister,” Eddie shrugged.

Jason hesitated, wondering if Elle was really worth all the trouble.  Maybe she wasn’t, to him— but the street cred he’d get if he deflowered her was.  He groaned as he reached for his wallet, and Eddie grinned proudly.  “You’d better be as smooth as you think you are, Munson,” Jason warned as Eddie snatched up the bill.

The interaction still had Eddie in a particularly bad mood during shop class, making Mike even more hesitant to approach him;

“Wh-why can’t you talk to him?” he asked Lucas.

“I talked to Jason,” Lucas replied.

“Yeah, but you know Jason,” Mike reminded him, “and Jason isn’t… unstable.”

“Just go, chicken,” Lucas rolled his eyes, shoving Mike forward— and he stumbled, but made his way over to Eddie’s workstation.  

When he got a glare from under a curly fringe, Mike just blurted it out: “We know what you’re trying to do… with Hopper?”

“Yeah?  And what are you gonna do about it?” Eddie challenged.

“Uh— help you!  We wanna help you,” Mike explained quickly.

Eddie wrinkled his eyebrows together, standing up straighter and crossing his arms.  “Why, exactly?”

Lucas appeared behind Mike, resting his hands on his shoulders.  “You see, my friend here is… mildly obsessed with her sister, Elle.”

“What’s the deal with this girl, her tits shoot fireworks or something?” Eddie scoffed, and Mike nearly jumped on him for saying that— as if that fight wouldn’t be pitifully uneven.

“Mike’s love for her is… a little purer than that,” Lucas promised, “especially purer than Jason Carver’s.”

“Look,” Eddie leveled with the two of them, “I’m in this for the cash.  Carver can plow whoever he wants.”

“Okay, there will be no plowing!” Mike exclaimed, voice cracking.

“Listen, Eddie— uh, Ed,” Lucas smiled, “this whole thing— we set it all up!  We told Jason to pay you off, so Mike can get the girl.  Mr. Popular is just a pawn.”

Eddie seemed to like that; maybe even someone as detached from the popularity hierarchy could still enjoy a little humiliation for the star point guard.  “So, are you gonna help me tame the beast, then?” 

“Are you talking about Hopper, or your hair?” Lucas joked, though he dropped his smile when Eddie glared at him.  “O-okay, yeah, we’re gonna do some research, we can find out what she likes and stuff.  We’re your guys.”

“In a strictly non-prison-movie way,” Mike added anxiously.

~

Mike and Elle were walking around the old bridge— she promised to show him the prettiest place in Hawkins, he thought about turning it into a line but he resisted the urge, and he delicately broke the pleasant silence.  “So, have you heard about the party Steve Harrington is throwing at his parents’ lake house?”

“Yes,” Elle pouted, “and I really really wanna go, but I can’t.  Not unless my sister goes.”

“I’m working on that,” Mike promised, “but she’s not going for my guy.”  He paused before he continued, narrowing his eyes.  “She’s not a, uh…”

"A friend of Billie Jean?” Elle finished.

“No, I’m not asking if she’s a Michael Jackson fan,” Mike corrected, “I meant—”

“I know what you meant!” Elle rolled her eyes.  “Billie Jean King?  Tennis player, women’s rights advocate, giant flaming lesbian?”

“O-oh,” Mike stuttered, “I don’t really watch tennis…”

“Or the news, apparently,” Elle sighed.  “The point is, no, I don't think so.  I found a picture of Rob Lowe in her drawer once so she's at least got some interest in men.  Jury's still out on her bestie Robin Buckley, though…"

"But that's the kind of guys she likes?  Pretty guys?"

Elle shrugged.  "All I know is she said she'd never date a smoker."

“Okay, no smoking,” Mike nodded, “what else?”

“Listen, I try not to get too deep into my sister’s twisted psyche,” Elle sighed.

“But we need to know more!” Mike insisted.  “We need to go behind enemy lines…”

Even though it was his idea, Mike felt a little out of his depth watching Elle go through your room; it looked sort of how he imagined it might, except for missing a giant cork board with pins and red yarn outlining your plan to cause men as much suffering as possible.

“Okay, here we go!” Elle announced excitedly as she rifled through a drawer.  “Class schedule, reading list, concert tickets… ha!  Black panties!”

Mike cleared his throat as she held up the offending pair of lacy underthings.  “What does that tell us?”

“That she wants to have sex some day.”

“Couldn’t she just like the color?” Mike wondered, flustered.

“You don’t buy lingerie unless you want someone to see it,” Elle insisted.

“Oh,” Mike nodded, perking up slightly.  “So… can I see your room?”

Elle blinked quickly, getting a bit tender all of a sudden.  “No… a girl’s room is very personal…” she explained shyly.

“Right,” Mike agreed nervously.

~

Two sophomores didn’t exactly blend in at The Hideout— it was a dingy old hole-in-the-wall, with grimey old bikers getting drunk in every corner… and Eddie, shooting pool by himself in the back.  He straightened up when they approached him, nursing his beer with a raised eyebrow.

“We have information for you,” Mike explained.

“Don’t say it like that, it sounds weird,” Eddie frowned, “she’s just a girl, not a… spy or something.”

“Right,” Lucas agreed as Eddie took another sip from the brown bottle.

Mike narrowed his eyes.  “Should you be drinking alcohol when you don’t have a liver?”

“What?!” Eddie scrunched up his nose.

“Nothing,” Lucas shook his head.

“The first thing is she hates smokers,” Mike explained.

Eddie groaned.  “I’m gonna have to quit?  Fuck, this is getting more unpleasant by the minute—”

“Just for now!” Lucas bargained.  

"And there’s another problem: Elle said that her sister likes, uh, pretty guys,” Mike added.

There was a tense pause, until Eddie’s eyes widened.  “Are you saying I’m not a pretty guy?”

“H-he’s very pretty!” Lucas smacked Mike on the back.  “He’s gorgeous, look at him!”

“S-sorry, I wasn’t sure,” Mike mumbled awkwardly.

Eddie brushed off the insult quickly, taking a big puff off of his cigarette— maybe he appreciated it more, knowing he’d have to cut back for a while after this.  Meanwhile, Mike pulled out a folded up piece of heart-shaped mini-notebook paper (borrowed stationary from Elle, obviously) and read the list aloud.

“Okay, ‘likes: Thai food, feminist prose, and—’” he cleared his throat before he continued— “‘angry girl music of the indie-rock persuasion.’  Here’s a list of CDs that she has in her room.”

Eddie looked at the list in disdain.  “So I’m supposed to, what, take her out for noodles and spoken word and sit around listening to chicks who can’t play their instruments?”

“Have you ever been to Club Nina?” Lucas wondered.

“Her favorite band is playing there tomorrow night,” Mike explained, and Eddie sighed as he pressed his lips together.

“I can’t be seen at Club Nina,” Eddie shook his head.  “First of all, that’s rival turf, second of all—”

“She’ll be there, she’s already got tickets for her and Robin,” Lucas pressed.  “Just… tolerate it, for a night.  And maybe don’t deal any drugs there.”

“Can I at least do some drugs there?” Eddie frowned.

“As long as you’re not too out of sorts to do some major seducing,” Mike offered.  “She has a pair of black underwear!  If that helps.”

“I mean, it couldn’t hurt, right?” Lucas elbowed Eddie playfully, who jerked away.

As stupid as it was, Eddie found himself still wondering about your alleged black panties as he walked into the club to look for you the next night. He found you horribly frustrating, sure, and the feeling was mutual, but picturing you in something like that was... not too terrible.

Eddie noticed the looks he was getting from the girls at Club Nina, and they weren’t exactly approving; a man invading their space was bad enough, but a metalhead in the land of the soft-rockers was turning heads.

He ignored it for the most part and sat down at the bar, ordering something light enough that he could keep his wits about him, but hard enough that he could tolerate this whole situation.  Believe it or not, he didn’t actually like getting repeatedly insulted and degraded by you— it wasn’t even the sexy kind of degrading, just your incessant hatefulness chipping away at his dignity.  But damn, he could feel the added weight of Carver’s money in his wallet, and he liked that.

Thankfully, it didn’t take too long for you to show up at the bar, ordering two waters like the lightweight you were.  He pretended not to see you, but you didn’t offer the same courtesy, making a groan of disgust at him.  “If you’re planning on asking me out again, just get it over with,” you pleaded distastefully.

He looked at you with an irritated frown, pointing at the band behind him.  “Keep it down, maybe?  I’m trying to listen.”

That seemed to throw you off, and he enjoyed your moment of bewilderment.  “Did you leave your cancer sticks behind?” you asked.

“Yeah, permanently,” he nodded.  “Turns out they’re bad for you.”

He shrugged, and you dropped the sarcasm for a split-second.  “You did?” you pressed, surprised.

“You know,” he changed the subject instead, “these guys are no Adolescents or Souixsie and the Banshees, but they’re alright.”

“You know Souixsie and the Banshees?” you repeated, flabbergasted.

“Why, don’t you?” he joked.  He got down another sip of watered-down liquor, before turning to face you directly.  “You know, I was watching you before,” he admitted, yelling to be heard over the crescendo of the song, “I’ve never seen you look so sexy!”

Of course, that was right about when the song ended, and Eddie looked around the club as he realized the entire swarm of alt chicks had heard him.  As they laughed at the scene, he smiled awkwardly and watched you get visibly embarrassed— good to know you had emotions other than rage, contempt, and boredom.

“Why don’t you come to Steve Harrington’s party with me?” he challenged, and the moment faded as the next song began.

“You never give up, do you?” you frowned, starting to walk away and back into the dancing crowd.

“Was that a yes?” he wondered.

“No!” you shouted back to him.

“Was it a no?” he added.

“No!” you said again, and he smiled.

“I’ll pick you up at nine-thirty, then!” he called to you, but you were lost to him again— for now.

~

Elle and Max, dolled up in their finest party gear, crept carefully across the foyer towards the front door.  Elle knew all the creaky floorboards to avoid, yet even in their silence they seemed to trigger Chief Hopper’s sixth sense.  “You should have used the window,” he announced as they deflated.

“H-hi Daddy,” she greeted as if all were normal.

“Hi,” he returned as he looked at them.  “Where are we going?”

“Um, just a small study group of friends,” Elle insisted, and Max nodded along.

“Otherwise known as an orgy?!” Dad barked.

“Mr. Hopper— Chief, sir— it’s just a party,” Max soothed.

“And Hell is just a sauna!” he returned.

As you came walking down the stairs into the middle of the argument, oblivious, your dad snagged your attention.  

“Are you aware of this party?” he asked.  You simply shrugged, on a mission for snacks.  

“People expect me to be there!” Elle complained.  “I have friends waiting for me!  Daaaddddyyy!!”

“If your sister’s not going, you’re not going,” he stood fast.

Of course, that turned her ire towards you.  “Why can’t you be normal?” she whined.

“Define ‘normal’,” you challenged as you crossed your arms.

“Going to Steve’s party is normal!”

You scoffed.  “Steve’s party is just a lame excuse for all the youthful morons of Hawkins High to drink beer and rub up against each other in hopes of distracting themselves the pathetic emptiness of their—”

Elle and Max interrupted to finish your rant: “meaningless, consumer-driven lives,” they groaned in unison.

You hadn’t realized you were so predictable, and your shock gave Elle an opportunity to make one more plea.

“Can you just, for one night, forget about your crusade against all things enjoyable and just be my sister?  please?  C’mon,” she begged, stepping up closer, “please, do this for me.”

It was more sincere than you were used to from her, and it reminded you of simpler times, of when she thought you were the coolest big sister ever and she was your favorite person— before she was spoiled by the world and you were soured by it.  Those memories were what convinced you to somberly nod.  “I’ll make an appearance,” you agreed, and she squealed as she hugged you joyfully.

“Oh god, it’s starting,” your dad mumbled to himself in a daze.

“It’s just a party,” Elle promised him, but he stiffened up suddenly.

“I want you to wear the belly,” he announced.

Elle whimpered out her “Daddy, no!” but it was too late, he’d already gone to fetch it from the closet, and you watched with schadenfreude as he pulled out the padded faux-pregnancy jacket.  

“Not all night,” he promised, “just around the living room for a minute while you contemplate the weight of your decisions.”

She held her arms out in defeat as he slipped it on over her dress, smiling proudly at his work.

“Every time you even think about kissing a boy,” Dad lectured, “just imagine wearing this all the time.”

“You’re such a space cadet,” she sighed.

“Okay, we’re going now,” you announced as you headed for the door, but he stopped you.

“Wait a minute: no drinking, no drugs, no kissing, no tattoos, no piercings, no getting in vans, no— no ritual animal slaughter!” he enumerated.  “Oh god, I’m giving them ideas…”

You startled when you opened the door and saw Eddie standing there, fist raised as he was about to knock.  “What are you doing here?” you asked him flatly.

“Nine-thirty, right?” he smiled, “I’m early.”

“Whatever, I’m driving,” you insisted.

He leaned to the side to look over your shoulder, raising an eyebrow.  “Who knocked up your sister?”

~

Lucas held on tight to his drink in a plastic cup as he attempted to keep Max Mayfield’s attention for at least a few minutes at a time.

“You know, I’m on the basketball team,” he reminded her with a grin.

“Right,” she mumbled, unimpressed, but he was a little too tipsy to notice that his lines weren’t working.

“Do you, uh, play any sports?” he asked.

“I skate, if that counts,” she shrugged.

“Oh, rollerblading is cool!” Lucas beamed, but Max rolled her eyes and walked away at his incorrect guess of what kind of skating she meant.  “Ever been to Rink-O-Mania?” he called after her, sighing when he realized he’d officially struck out.

You brushed past him, knocking into his shoulder as he pouted.  Eddie was still following you, for some reason, dodging dancing girls and kissing couples along the way.

Jason clicked his tongue at you as you passed by.  “Lookin’ fresh,” he cooed, in that way that was mostly mocking yet probably a real come-on if you went for it: Schrödinger’s pick-up line, if you will.

“Oh my god, did you feel that?” you looked around at the air.  “My pussy just dried up so fast it actually dropped the humidity in here!”

Jason seemed a little too interested in an update on your genitals, but you were already walking away, trying to lose him and Eddie now.  “Hey, is your sister here?” he asked you loudly.

“Stay away from my sister,” you warned.

“I will,” he promised, “but, you know, I can’t guarantee that she’ll stay away from me…”

You shook your head as you shoved your way into another room of the Harrington’s massive lodge, accidentally stumbling upon two jocks wrestling and throwing punches on the floor.  A crowd had gathered around the scene to cheer them on, and you sneered in disgust at the uncivil display.

“Hey, hey!” Steve himself appeared, trying to break it up.  “Take it outside!”

One jock pulled the other up by his shirt, and the two of them went tumbling back— right through the window.  They didn’t even stop swinging as they fell onto the grass, and Steve’s face went blank with numb shock.

“Th-thanks,” he mumbled to himself, and you gave him a pat on the shoulder as you passed by.

“At least we’re on the ground floor,” you offered him quickly, but a tap on your shoulder pulled your attention away.  

“Hey,” Jason smirked as he let you get a good look at him with his arm around your sister’s shoulders, “look who found me.”

You weren’t even angry— which was a nice break, really— you were just worried now.  “Elle, wait,” you called to her as they walked away.          

“Please don’t address me in public,” Elle requested with a roll of her eyes.

“I just wanna tell you something!” you pleaded.

“I’m being a normal teenager for a night— you should try it,” she suggested, and the two of them disappeared into the crowd again.

Just in time for your impending breakdown, some guy walked by holding a tray of shots.  “Shots, anyone?  Ladies?”

You grabbed one with each hand and tossed them back in rapid succession.  You reached for a third when Eddie reappeared, snagging it out of your hand.  “What are you doing?” he asked, concerned.

“I’m getting trashed, dude,” you offered in a fake party-boy voice.  “Isn’t that the point of all this?”

Eddie shrugged.  “Think the point is to just… be yourself.”

You snorted.  “You might be the only person who thinks I should be myself.”

At the same time that you were ditching Eddie again, Mike was finding Lucas.  “Have you seen her around anywhere?” he asked as he scanned the crowd.  For all his excitement to find her, he seemed to get overwhelmed when he saw Elle coming down the stairs with Max.

“Come on, man, relax,” Lucas assured as he patted his shoulders.  Mike took a deep breath.  “Just be yourself.”

Nodding, Mike summoned his courage and approached the girls.  “H-hey, Elle,” he greeted politely.

“Hey,” Elle returned, “Mike, um— do you know Max?”

Elle grabbed the redhead and shoved her towards Mike so she could try to break away.

“Oh, yeah,” Mike nodded, “we have Math together, right?”

Max hummed as she crossed her arms; “Great,” she offered unenthusiastically.

“You, uh, look really amazing tonight,” Mike offered Elle, and Max cringed as he failed to take the hint.

“Oh— um,” Elle stalled, and Jason descended the stairs to slip his arm around her.

“And we all know I look amazing,” he interjected, making the girls giggle and Mike roll his eyes.  “C’mon, Elle, let’s go— there are jell-o shots in the kitchen.”

He was already turning her around to guide her away, forcing her to look over her shoulder to wave at Mike: “See you around, okay?” 

Mike watched helplessly as Jason took his dream girl from right in front of him— the blonde even offered him a thumbs up on his way out, to add insult to injury.

Eddie found you again in the study, starting to work on another drink.  “Hey hey hey,” he interrupted as he gently lifted it away from you, watching you whine and make grabby hands for it.  “Why don’t you let me have this one, hm?”

“No!” you pouted, jumping for it, but he held it up higher— it forced you to push yourself up against him to try to get it, and he forced himself not to notice how it felt to be close to you.

Someone walked by with their own drink, just about to have a sip when you snatched it away instead, running off before Eddie could set down the cup and catch up.  “Shit,” he hissed to himself.

As he tried to navigate past other partygoers to get to the kitchen, he heard the blasting stereo change songs to something not actually awful (in his opinion): Def Leppard.  Unfortunately, you seemed to like Pour Some Sugar On Me, too— considering you hopped up on a table and started dancing there instead.

“How’d you get her to be normal?” Jason laughed as he appeared beside Eddie— and he couldn’t decide if he was more disgusted by Carver’s glee watching you, or Carver’s chumminess with him.

“Hey!” Eddie called to you, getting through the crowd of cheering guys as quickly as he could, but you couldn’t hear him through the overwhelming sound and the haze of drunkenness.  He watched you dance, a mix of concern, embarrassment, and arousal stirring in him as your moves became more and more suggestive.  “HEY!” 

When he shouted the second time, it didn’t quite get you to look at him but it did startle you, making you whack your head on the chandelier— which in turn made you stumble and fall.  When you came down dramatically, he held out his arms and managed to catch you, looking at your startled, panting face.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, but you looked angry at him again.

“I’m fine,” you insisted, trying to wiggle out of his embrace, but failing.

“You’re not fine,” he groaned, “c’mon…”

He didn’t exactly carry you, mostly because you wouldn’t let him, but he didn’t let you walk on your own when he saw how wobbly your legs were.

The sounds of the party faded into the distance as you walked in the grass, up to the shore of Lover’s Lake where the Harrington’s had some rustic old swings hanging from under a massive tree by the water.

“I-I just need to lie down somewhere,” you insisted, stumbling again as Eddie had to grab at your waist to keep you upright.

“No, you can’t lie down right now,” he sighed.  “If you lie down you’ll go to sleep.”

You pouted as he set you down on a swing.  “I like sleep,” you protested.

“Can’t sleep if you might have a concussion,” he explained, watching you slump against the rope beside you.

He was about to fuss over you a little more, try to keep you awake somehow, but he saw Mike storming down across the grass.  

“Hey,” Mike greeted as Eddie stepped past you slightly to meet him.  “We need to talk.”

“I’m a little busy at the moment,” Eddie informed him, gesturing towards you.

“Well— it’s over, okay?  All of this— the deal’s off,” Mike frowned.

“Huh?”

“She never wanted me,” he realized with a sigh.  “She wanted Jason the whole time.”

Eddie rolled his eyes.  “Listen— do you really like this girl?”

“Yeah!” Mike assured.

“And she’s worth going through all this trouble?” he pressed, stepping forward towards the new kid.

“I— I think so.”

“Either she is or she isn’t,” Eddie frowned, “and considering we made it this far, she must be— so you need to keep fighting for her!  You’re twice the man that Jason is, if she’s got two brain cells to rub together she’ll figure out she’s better off with you.  Capice?”

Mike puffed up his chest a bit.  “O-okay!” he decided.  “I’m gonna go for it!”

“Yeah, that’s the spirit!” Eddie cheered, slapping Mike on the shoulder before he ran off back to the party.

Eddie was smiling as he turned to you, only to lose his grin and rush over as you started to fall forward out of the swing.

“Woah woah!” he yelped as he knelt down in front of you and held your face with both hands.  “Gotta stay awake, remember, sweetheart?”

You stuck your bottom lip out.  “You’re so patronizing.”

He smirked.  “Leave it to you to use your vocabulary words when you’re totally shitfaced.”

When you fluttered your eyes shut, he lightly smacked your cheek, the rings hitting a little extra hard on your jaw as you groaned.  “What are you hitting me for?”

“Because you might have a concussion,” he reminded you.  

“And you want to add to it?” you assumed, awake enough for him to let go of your face, which he did.

“If you go to sleep now, you might not wake up.”

“You don’t care if I never wake up,” you dismissed.

He smiled at you, a little too amused by such a morbid sentiment.  “Sure I do!”

“Why?” 

He almost let his smile falter.  “If you died, I might have to go out with a girl who actually likes me,” he answered.

“If you could find one,” you snorted, eyes still shut but face curling into a proud grin at your own joke.

“See?  Who needs affection when I have blind hatred?” he teased.

You sniffled and sat up a little straighter, so Eddie stepped back and sat down on the swing beside you.

“So, why’d you let him get to you?” he wondered, looking out across the lake sparkling under the glow of a half-moon.

“Who?”

“Jason.  You’re normally so unaffected.”

“He always drives me crazy,” you admitted, “but messing with my sister is crossing the line.”

“Well, you’ve chosen some creative revenge,” he laughed, “by drinking through the Harrington’s liquor cabinet.”

You laughed along with him, a rare moment where you two overlapped— and not even in a negative emotion!  “You know what they say,” you replied.

“What’s that?” he wondered.  But you didn’t continue.  He looked to the side and saw you falling down again.

“Shit,” he spat, leaning forward and catching you at your shoulders, tilting your face up to his.  “Wake up!  C’mon, look at me, sweetheart, listen to me— open your eyes…”

He was a little overwhelmed by the way you did exactly as he’d asked, fluttering your eyes open at him, something entirely new in them that he’d never seen on you before— or maybe anyone, at least this up close.  “Hey,” you smiled softly.  “Did you know your eyes are a little bit hazel?”

He smiled back at you, examining your face, wondering for a split second if he should go for it.

But before he could, you keeled over and wretched— right on his white Reeboks.  “Shit,” he said again.

~

Elle was waiting out in the cool night air, her thin cardigan not doing much for her as she watched Jason drive off with a slew of girls in tow; he’d tried to get her to go to another party, but along with her curfew coming up, it turned out that he was sort of a dud.  For all his alleged charisma as one of the most popular guys in school, he didn’t know how to talk about anything but basketball, plus his ‘boys’ and their misadventures— usually drunken ones.  She tried to cut him some slack since he was likely a little tipsy, but she still couldn’t justify the way he talked about his ex-girlfriend.  It was just tacky!

As she waited for you to hopefully reappear soon and drive her home, Mike brushed by.  “Have fun tonight?” he asked, somewhat sharply.

“Tons,” Elle sighed, expecting him to stop and getting a little more shy when he didn’t. “Hey, um, Mike?” 

He stopped and turned, and she gave him a pitiful look.

“Any chance you could give me a ride home?”

Eddie hadn’t driven a car as small as yours in a while— and it wasn’t even small, it just felt that way compared to his van.

You reached forward and turned up the stereo, a Patti Smith song getting louder as you did.  “I should do this,” you announced.

“What?” he wondered.

“This!” you said again, pointing to the radio.  “Make music, start a band!  Aren’t you in a band?”

“Yeah, I didn’t know you knew that,” he admitted.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m gonna do, too,” you decided with firm defiance.  “My father would love that.”

“I didn’t think you were the type to worry about what your father thought,” Eddie noticed.

“Oh, so now you’ve got me all figured out?” you scoffed.

He shrugged.  “I’m getting there.”

You deflated slightly as you looked out the window.  “Nobody knows anything about me,” you admitted, “except that I’m ‘scary’ or whatever.”

He smirked slightly at your air quotes.  “I’m not known to be particularly enjoyable either.”

When you looked at him, he felt a little penetrated by your stare, so he looked back at the road ahead.

“Look at us, having a little talk about real stuff,” he blurted out, trying to break the tension.  “I mean, you’re usually so closed off and now I think you might spill your guts or something.  Oh, right— you already did…”

And you stiffened up again.  Right on cue.

Whereas your conversation with Eddie died a few minutes before you pulled up to your house, Elle and Mike’s only began when he put the car in park.  “You never wanted to hang out with me, did you?” he realized, irritation tinting his voice.

“I— I did!” Elle lied, trying to be nice.  But she was always trying to be nice, and that wasn’t enough; Mike scoffed in frustrated disbelief.

“You didn’t!”

Elle deflated.  “Yeah… okay.  Not really.”

“Well, then that’s all you had to say!  You could’ve just said you weren’t interested and none of this would’ve happened— but then you wouldn’t have gotten your night with Jason.  That’s what this was all about, wasn’t it?”

“But I—” she began, cut off by Mike’s rant.

“You know, you can’t just treat people however you want because you’re beautiful.  Lucas told me you were vapid, and I defended you!  I— I learned French for you!  And then you just—”

She cut him off with a kiss— a sweet kiss, not too short, but exactly the sort of kiss two sophomores should share in a car after a party.  When she pulled away, she smiled a little, and Mike blinked at her a couple times.

“Goodnight,” she offered softly, getting out of the car and walking up the steps to her front door.

Mike turned to face forward again, dumbfounded expression morphing slowly into a grin.  “And I’m back in the game!” he beamed, pumping his fist triumphantly.

~

As you walked into class, you tried to avoid the eyes on you— but you couldn’t, just like you couldn’t avoid throbbing in your head.

“Nice moves last night, señorita,” one of the stoners in class nodded approvingly as you came in.

“That was radical, dude,” a surfer boy offered with a ‘hang tight’ hand symbol.

And then there was Jason.  “What do you owe you for the table dance, babe?” he taunted.

Shuddering, you sat down as Ms. O’Donnell began.  “Settle down, please,” she begged the class.  “Whatever happened outside of school hours is not to be discussed now.  Wouldn’t you rather hear about your midterm assignment?”

The class groaned in unison.

“You’ll be writing a sonnet,” she explained, “in the style of William Shakespeare.”

When you raised your hand, you saw the look on her face, and you knew what she was expecting.  And you didn’t blame her.  You spoke when she pointed towards you.  “Should it be in iambic pentameter?”

She seemed suspicious of such a simple question.  “Um, no, it doesn’t have to be,” she replied.  “Why?”

“I just wanted to know…” you mumbled sheepishly.  “Is that so wrong?”

“Um, no,” she decided.  “That’s a good question, Miss Hopper… and it doesn’t.  Thank you for asking.”

She wasn’t the only one shocked by your sudden interest in her teaching, and you noticed the way the entire class was looking at you.  “What?” you scoffed, and you shook the moment off as Ms. O’Donnell began lecturing again.

~

Mike and Eddie sat beside each other as they watched your soccer practice from a safe distance.  “What’d you do to her?” Mike wondered.

“What?  I didn’t do anything— did you see how drunk she was?” Eddie shook his head.  “What made you think something happened, anyways?”

“The fact that the plan was working,” Mike answered.

“Why do you care?  I thought it was over.”

“It was,” Mike agreed, smiling, “until she kissed me.”

“Aw, that’s sweet,” Eddie congratulated, “I told you to go for it.”

Lucas, meanwhile, was running the track— and he stopped when he passed the two other boys.  “Alright, I talked to her,” he informed them, “I got the scoop.”

“What’d she say?” Mike wondered excitedly.

“Hates him with the fire of a thousand suns,” he announced with a sarcastic smile.  “That’s a direct quote.”

Eddie sighed, looking a little defeated.

“H-hey,” Mike tried to comfort him, “maybe she just needs a day to cool off?”

But the three of them had to lean away to dodge a soccer ball that came flying over, narrowly avoiding nailing Eddie in the head.  When they looked up together at the source, they caught your glare coming their way.

“...or two,” Eddie added.

~

You groaned as you sat with Robin on the bench, watching the prom committee hang up posters all over the courtyard for the wretched event.

“Can you imagine going to that brainless display of teenage vapidity?” you rolled your eyes.  

“Uh, I can,” Robin admitted, “if I had a date.”

“I thought things were going okay with Vickie,” you frowned at her.  

“Well, yeah, they’re okay, but it’s not like that, yet,” she explained.  

“You’re sparing yourself by not going,” you insisted, “the whole thing is a patriarchal sham anyways.”

“Even if you go with a girl?”

“Yes,” you groaned, “because you’re still supporting the institution.  It’s basically a mating ritual you have to dress up for!”

“Alright, we won’t go,” she promised.  “I didn’t have anything to wear, even if I knew how to ask Vickie…”

“You’re looking at this all backwards,” you sighed, “we’re not missing out— we’re making a statement!”

“Oh, great,” Robin beamed sarcastically, “something new and different for us!”

Across the courtyard, Elle was busy reviewing her Science homework at a table when Jason popped in beside her.  “Hey there, cutie,” he cooed.

“Hey…” she mumbled, focusing still on her textbook, in fact she hadn’t even looked up at him.

“Studying hard, huh?” he noticed, trying to prompt her again.         

“Can I help you?” she wondered flatly.

“Well, it would help me a lot if you say yes when I ask you to prom,” he quipped.

Elle only sighed, turning the page in her book.  “You know the deal, Jay— I can’t go if my sister doesn’t go.”

“Good thing she will.”

That got Elle to tear her eyes away from cell biology so she could look at the senior beside her.  “Since when?!” she gasped.

“Let’s just say,” Jason purred, scooting closer to her, “I’m taking care of it.”

~

Eddie chewed on the inside of his cheek as Jason rambled about the money he’d just handed him.  “That’ll cover flowers, limo, tux, the whole enchilada.  I don’t care what you do, just make sure she gets to the prom.”

Eddie suddenly handed the money back.  “You know what?  I’m sick of being a pawn in your little game, okay?”

Jason scoffed at the money.  “Then make it two hundred,” he decided, summing another bill to add onto the small pile in Eddie’s palm.

Hesitating, and then sneering, Eddie stuffed it into his pocket.  The money felt like it would burn a hole through the denim if he left it there too long— he went to the music store first, wondering if he should spent it; wondering if he should try to talk to you instead of just watching you play around on a bass you’d borrowed from the wall of instruments.

In a moment entirely out of character for him, Eddie just couldn’t muster up the courage to do it, to tap you on the shoulder and get your attention.  He could stand on tables in the cafeteria and make a fool of himself playing at the Hideout for whatever crowd of drunks accidentally stayed for Corroded Coffin’s show, but he couldn’t just… say hi to you.  You just looked so at peace sitting there on the amp, rocking your head between the big headphones that dwarfed your face; he was happier just watching you play for a few minutes, leaving before you opened your eyes and noticed him.

He watched you from between the stacks at the bookstore, too, swallowing as you flipped through Sylvia Plath.  What was it that was making him so nervous to approach you all of a sudden?  It’s not a crush, is it?  No…  no, it’s probably my natural aversion to pain.

Just when he was afraid you were about to leave and he would miss his chance, he jumped up from behind Adult Non-fiction and surprised you before you could head for the door.  “Excuse me,” he smiled, “have you seen The Feminine Mystique?  I lost track of mine.”

You looked appropriately disappointed and unamused, but he was used to that by now.  “What are you doing here?” you asked him flatly.

“I heard there was a poetry reading,” he replied, not even trying that hard to sound believable, since you’d never believe it.  You knitted your eyebrows together and opened your mouth, apparently searching for the exact words to cut him down.

“Y-you… you’re so…” you started a few times, and Eddie grinned as he realized he’d stumped you for the moment.

“Charming?” he finished for you.

And in a moment entirely out of character for you, you gave up, shaking your head and trying to step past him to walk away.  He side-stepped and planted himself in front of you.

“Irresistible,” he offered instead.

“Unavoidable,” you corrected.

“Inevitable,” he agreed with a wink.  “Love always is.”

“Love?!  Jesus Christ,” you spat, laughing sharply at how absurd it was.

“You do realize you’re not as mean as you think you are, right?” Eddie wondered, following you closely as you kept marching towards the door to leave.

You spun to look at him as you replied, “and you’re not as badass as you think you are.”

“Ooh,” he winced playfully, “someone still has their panties in a twist.”

“Don’t even for a minute worry that you have any effect whatsoever on my panties,” you snapped.

“Then what did I have an effect on?” he encouraged.

“Other than my gag reflex, not much,” you frowned.

“Gag reflex, huh?” he purred, and you grimaced as you rolled your eyes.

“God, you’re barbaric!” you announced as you shoved a book into his chest— The Feminine Mystique, of course— and utilized the moment he spent looking at it to exit the store.  He didn’t even really process that you were already gone until he heard the little bell on the door chime, and he sighed.

~

Eddie just wanted to get his lunch in peace, but those two pipsqueak sophomores flanked him as he moved through the line.  “What’s the word?” Mike asked.

“Well, you were right— she’s still pissed,” Eddie replied.

“Sweet love, renew thy force!” Lucas exclaimed, and Eddie made a face at him.

“Don’t say shit like that to me, people can hear you,” Eddie warned him.

“Look,” Mike interjected, “she’s embarrassed!  Sacrifice yourself on the altar of dignity and even the score.”

Rolling his eyes, Eddie departed the lunch line early— he didn’t want green bean casserole anyways— and left Mike and Lucas to look at each other.  “Don’t say shit like that to him,” Lucas soberly instructed Mike, “people can hear you.”

They were right, though, and the next day, he acted on their advice.

You were out on the field with the team, running drills, clearing your head in the only way you knew how.  Of course, Eddie couldn’t stay out of your head for long— or out of your way.  

You didn’t notice the speakers turning on at first; you heard it, but you didn’t think much of the static buzz of silence.  It wasn’t silent for long, though, and everyone turned their heads when they heard an electric guitar begin playing.  You looked up in the bleachers, and widened your eyes at the sight of Eddie hopping up into view as he played, a long black cord trailing behind him.  The marching band had left some of their equipment up after practice, including the microphone intended for the national anthem singer, and Eddie leaned into it as he began to sing along with his own playing.

“I gotta tell you what I'm feeling inside, I could lie to myself, but it's true—”

“Oh my god, is that—?” you heard a teammate of yours whisper to another, and they were all looking at you suddenly— and so was he.

“There's no denying when I look in your eyes,” he continued to sing, “girl, I'm out of my head over you…”

You turned around when drums and bass began to play as well, from the other side, and you laughed at the sight of the other members of Corroded Coffin— the logo made in tape on the kick-drum was a good sign that that’s who they were.

“And I lived so long believing all love is blind,” Eddie continued, “but everything about you is telling me this time, it’s forever—”

You finally recognized the KISS song and laughed in some impossible combination of disbelief and unsurprise: because of course Eddie would pick a KISS song to serenade you, but oh my god, was he really serenading you right now?  In front of everyone?

“This time I know, and there’s no doubt in my mind,” he sang passionately as he played, “forever, until my life is through, girl I’ll be loving you forever…”

The other musicians were singing harmonizing vocals, and your team was staring at you in shock as Eddie pointed at you in a break from his guitar playing; they knew before then that he was singing to you, but apparently even further confirmation continued to blow their minds.  You couldn’t believe it either, because, you know… it was you, and this was some kind of modern-fairytale bullshit, and you realized that you only never wanted it because you never thought it could happen.  Romantic surprises, sudden music, kisses in the rain?  Maybe for other girls— girls like Elle— but never for you.

Except here it was happening to you.  “I never thought I’d lay my heart on the line,” Eddie sang into the microphone, “but everything about you is—”

It came to a literal screeching halt, and everyone covered their ears at the feedback from the speakers.  Vice Principal Owens apparently didn’t take too kindly to the noise and disruption, as he appeared on the side of the field to chew Eddie out.  “What is the meaning of this?!” he yelled, and the drummer bailed first, tossing his sticks and grabbing a hi-hat and tom and making a break for it.  As the soccer team cheered and clapped for the performance, Eddie unplugged his guitar and sprinted from the Vice Principal.  “That’s school property!  That’s school equipment you stole!”

You laughed as the chase began, and Eddie caught your gaze for a second to give you a shrug as he swung the Gremlin over his back and dove off the bleachers.

“I hope you enjoy detention, Munson!” Owens yelled his threatening promise as he shook his fist— obviously incapable of keeping up with a freak on the run.

~

Coach Hastings stalked the columns of uniform plastic seats-and-desks, eyeing his quarry of quivering detention-goers.  A split-second of eye contact with one of them, before the kid jolted and stared down into his lap, made the coach smile somewhat menacingly and approach his desk.

“You look nervous, son,” he noticed with a grin, and the boy hesitantly blinked up at him.

“Yes, sir,” he agreed.

“You’re sweating like a pig,” the coach continued.

“Y-yes, sir,” the student agreed again.

“Your eyes are red!  You’ve got pot, don’t you?”

Apparently too scared (and stoned) to deny it, the kid awkwardly pulled a baggy out of his pants pocket and let Hastings snatch it away.

“I’m confiscating this,” he announced as he took it, marching back down the row and snagging a snack bag of Cheetos on his way as well.

Eddie scoffed slightly to himself as he saw it; not exactly a subtle plan, especially to Eddie, whose occupation at the school’s main dealer gave him unique knowledge of the coach’s habit.

He was just preparing to space out for an afternoon of mind-numbing boredom when you came in through the door, and he sat up slightly in surprise.

“Um, sir?” you got the Coach’s attention, meeting him at his desk at the front.  “I… have some ideas for practice tomorrow.”

“Now’s not the best time, Miss Hopper,” he replied quickly.

As he turned his back to the class, you made quick eye contact with Eddie to motion to him, pointing towards the window.  He sat up further, but tilted his head.  “The window!” you mouthed.

When Hastings turned around to look at you again, you played it off with a forced laugh.  

“Y-you know, we have that really big game soon against the Paxville Poodles…” you began again, stalling poorly.  Eddie quietly got up from his seat, just as Hastings made a move to turn around, and you unthinkingly reached out and grabbed his arm, making him look at you suspiciously.  “Your bicep is huge!” you blurted out.  “Wow— and look—” you grabbed the other— “this one’s even bigger.  You don’t take steroids, do you?  Because I’ve heard steroids can cause some shrinking of the, uh, package.”

The other students murmured and snickered to each other as Eddie crept around the back of the room, towards the open window at the front; you repositioned yourself and Mr. Hastings to keep Eddie’s path exactly behind him.

“But I didn’t come here to talk about your package!” you added.

“God, I hope not,” the coach agreed.

Eddie’s next step made a bit of noise— that damn chain on his jeans wasn’t very quiet— but you stopped him from turning to look by talking more.  “The point is, they always beat us,” you continued, “and I’ve got this plan to help us win this year!”

“Which is?”

“That… thing you taught us!” you answered chipperly as Eddie kept creeping towards the open window.

“What thing?” Hastings wondered.

“Misdirection.”

He narrowed his eyes.  “I taught you that?”

“Yeah!  You, o-or, you know, Siegfried and Roy— anyway—”

When he tried to turn his head over his shoulder, you had to reach out and grab his chin to turn his bewildered face towards you.

“They look left, we go right!  Bang, we score, we win,” you tilted your head and smiled wide.  Panic was setting in because you really thought Eddie would’ve made it out by now— he was close, but not there, and the coach was clearly losing his patience.

“But, how do we make them look left?” he wondered.  Eddie was halfway out the window, no looking back now… literally, meaning he didn’t see what you were about to do.

“Uh— like this!”

A rush of adrenaline compelled you to do it— or maybe it came right after you did it, honestly it was all a blur— and you lifted the bottom of your shirt up to your chin.  The classroom gasped, the coach’s chin dropped, and you cringed internally as you realized how far you’d gone: but you didn’t regret it, yet.  Actually, it was pretty funny, if you thought about it… not that you had exactly thought this through.

Hastings stared at you, dumbstruck and more concerned than aroused, the thoughts of what the hell is wrong with this girl? and oh god, am I gonna lose my job? obvious on his face.  The detention attendees began to whoop and holler as you dropped your shirt and Eddie was long-since freed.  “Okay!” you said with a thin voice, clearing your throat.  “Well, now that you’ve seen… the plan… I’m gonna go… and show the plan to someone else.  Okay.”

He said nothing, watching you walk away, and the classroom applauded you on your way out.

~

“I can’t thank you enough for breaking me out,” Eddie smiled as he paddled the rickety canoe.

“Oh, I do that all the time,” you dismissed jokingly.  

“How’d you keep him from seeing me?” he wondered.

You snorted a bit.  “I, uh, dazzled him with my… wits.”

Eddie shrugged and looked out at the water on every side, pulling the oars in now that you were stuck in the smackdab middle of Lover’s Lake.  “So, what’s your excuse?” he asked suddenly.

“Hm?”

“For acting the way we do.”

You considered that for a second, glancing out over the lake.  “Maybe it’s, like, daddy issues— ‘cause I don’t know my biological parents or anything.  Elle’s write her letters and stuff but mine don’t want anything to do with me.”

“Okay, maybe it’s that,” he nodded, “or…”

You sighed.  “I don't like to do what people expect.  Why should I live up to other people’s expectations instead of my own?”

He smiled, clearly proud of himself for getting you to fess up.  “So you disappoint them from the start and then you're covered, right?” he suggested, and you shrugged.

“Something like that.”

“Then you fucked it up,” he laughed.

“Huh?” you frowned.

His eyes seemed to sparkle more right before he said it— did he have some way of voluntarily doing that?  “You never disappointed me.”

You smiled a bit, but hoped he wouldn’t see that stupid, girlish emotion on your face.  “What about you?” you countered quickly.  “What’s your damage?”

“Oh, gosh, where to start,” he began, tapping his chin as he looked up and to the right like he was picturing it all, and you laughed.  “Daddy’s in prison, mommy’s… god knows where— last I heard she was in Washington?”

“Wait, the state, or D.C.?” you asked.

“I don’t even know!” he chuckled..

“If it makes you feel any better, I’ve got no clue where my mom is, either,” you shrugged. 

“I know misery allegedly loves company but, no, that doesn’t make me feel better.”

“There were a lot of rumors about what your parents were up to,” you admitted.  “Cult and traveling band were both popular.”

“Well, there are a lot of rumors about a lot of things,” he replied, “but they’re all bullshit.”

“So, the state trooper?” you challenged.

“Ridiculous,” he shot it down.  “You made out with a chick at a party?”

“Fantasy,” you rolled your eyes.  “Of theirs!  Not mine— I don’t wanna kiss anyone in public.  The duck?”

“Hearsay,” he smirked.  “Billy Hargrove’s balls?”

“Well, that one’s actually true,” you admitted, “but he deserved it!  He groped me in the lunch line.”

“Ah, don’t tell me that,” Eddie warned, “or I’ll go kick ‘em back up again myself.”  He clicked his tongue and tossed his fist as if to demonstrate.

“Why were you held back again?  I know the porn career’s a lie.”

“Do you?” he challenged.

You tried not to get too flushed imagining that.  You were strictly against porn, on feminist grounds, but… it was an interesting mental image.

He laughed first, then you followed suit.  “I missed a lot of classes, yeah, but I don’t have any good excuse.  I— to be honest, I have a lot of trouble with reading.  It takes me hours, gives me a headache… so I keep failing English.  And it’s not like I’m making ‘A’s in anything else…”

You tilted your head as you looked at him.  “Eddie, are you dyslexic?”

He raised an eyebrow.  “No, I’m bisexual,” he corrected.

“Dyslexia is a learning disorder, it causes difficulty in reading,” you explained.

“Not even gonna react to the bisexual thing, huh?” he pressed.

“Maybe you should see a doctor,” you encouraged.

“No cure for it,” he shook his head.

“For the dyslexia, dumbass!” you snapped, and he laughed.

“Okay, okay, I will,” he promised, “if you go see about getting that stick up your ass surgically removed.”

You rolled your eyes, but you still couldn’t stop a smile from filling your face.  “I thought you didn’t mind it.”

“I don’t,” he smiled.  “‘Cause I know you’re actually just a hopeless romantic under all that venom.”

You glanced down at the floor of the boat, at Eddie’s Reeboks across from your worn-out Converse.  You heard him whisper your name, so you looked up again, and he pulled you into a sudden kiss.

Kissing in a boat on Lover’s Lake— a little on-the-nose, maybe, and another one of those things you never expected to happen to you.  You never expected to like it so much, either, but you smiled into it and wrapped your arms around his neck.  Pulling you back with him, he fell into the front end of the canoe with you on top of him, kissing you harder.

Unfortunately, you both got a little carried away… and when he tried to roll you onto your back so he could lay above you, it knocked the small boat off-balance and sent you both tumbling into the lake.

You came up with a gasp, and a laugh, as Eddie came back facing the wrong way and yelling your name fearfully— like you’d drowned in the last three seconds.  Hearing your laugh, he spun around and put on a self-effacing smile before swimming a little closer and kissing you again.  You let him, even though that warm feeling in your chest was just getting hotter until you worried it would burn you up from the inside out; you brushed dripping, limp curls out of his face and grabbed him by the back of the neck to keep him close.

~

Half-dry from the journey home, Eddie walked beside you up to your front porch.  Not exactly wanting to bring in a lake-damp drug dealer, you guided him to sit next to you on the steps, and he seemed to look somewhat reverently out at the surrounding neighborhood.  “Beats the trailer park?” you assumed.

“Yeah,” he smiled, “but it’s not as bad as people think it is— I guess neither are we, though.”

“Okay, then tell me the truth,” you requested.

“The truth?  I’m afraid of the dark,” he grinned.

“No, something real,” you protested.

“Okay…” he agreed, lowering his voice and leaning in to kiss your neck.  “You’re sweet.”

You smiled, and he moved around to kiss the other side, giving you an eyeful of his fringe.

“And sexy,” he added.  “And completely hot for me.”

“You’re… very self-assured,” you giggled, “anybody ever told you that?”

“I tell myself every morning,” he agreed with a smile, “part of my daily affirmations.”

Your eyes drifted over his face— over his gentle eyes and soft lips and strong jaw— and you wondered how you never noticed how perfect he was before.

“Go to prom with me,” he said suddenly.

The moment left and you felt a little suspicious.  “Um, are you asking me, or telling me?” you wondered with a raised brow.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun,” he promised.

“No it won’t, it’ll be a circus of patriarchy and the hypersexualization of the American teenager,” you insisted.

“It’ll be fun if you come with me,” he clarified.  “I thought you liked doing what nobody expects?  The only one who expects you to go to prom is me.”

“Why do you even wanna go to the prom?!” you wondered.

“Maybe I’m more conventional than I look!” he defended.  “Maybe I only never went because I never had a beautiful girl to take.”

“I don’t buy it,” you scoffed.  “Why are you so insistent on this?  What’s in it for you?”

“Do I need to have a reason to want to be with you?”

“You tell me,” you challenged.

“You know something?  You need therapy,” he frowned.  “Maybe a shrink can help you unpack this inability to accept affection.  Were you not hugged as a child or something?”

“Right,” you snapped, “because all my problems are caused by being adopted— I forgot.”

“I didn’t— that’s not what I was saying,” he defended.

“So, what are you saying?  If I’m not madly in love with you, something must be wrong with me?”

“I think if you don’t trust me by now—!”

“By now?  One kiss and you’re totally trustworthy?” you tilted your head.

“We kissed twice,” he reminded you.

“Yeah, my mistake,” you scoffed, leaving the question of whether the number or the kisses were the mistake hanging in the air.  Shaking his head, Eddie pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his vest pocket.

“Damn it, they’re soaked,” he groaned as he opened it.

You snatched it away.  “I’ll throw them out for you,” you offered sharply as you stood up and stormed inside, slamming the door behind you.

~

Max Mayfield startled when she opened her locker, a flood of folded papers spilling out— origami stars.  She tilted her head as she knelt down, picking one up to unfold.  Because you’re funnier than people realize, it had written inside in somewhat poor, yet meticulous, handwriting.  Wrinkling her eyebrows together, she snagged another from on top of her textbooks.  Because you’re the most beautiful when you’re in class, listening and thinking.  It was cheesy, but she bit her lip as she imagined who this… extravagant secret admirer might be.  About to unfold another, Lucas leaned beside her at the lockers.

“Huh,” he noticed, “wonder who did all this just to ask you to prom.”

As he crossed his arms in front of his chest, she noticed the band-aids around the ends of many of his fingers.  “Basketball injury?” she assumed.

“No,” he denied sheepishly, “just, uh, papercuts…”

She smiled as she raised an eyebrow at him.  “So, you think this… stalker guy is asking me to prom?” she noticed.

“I— um, I assume,” he shrugged.

“That’s presumptuous of you,” she laughed.

Across the hall, Vickie was emphatically agreeing to Robin’s more tree-friendly prom invite: no letter or origami or notes or anything, just the courage to finally ask, and that was all she had wanted anyways.

All across the school, plans were being made, except for Elle: she had more options than most for her date, yet was forced to choose none because you were still resisting Eddie with what little fight you had left in you. 

After catching her glare each time you passed in the hall at school, you decided to attempt a peace offering at home.

You hesitantly knocked on her bedroom door after dinner.  “Come in,” she called from the other side, but her annoyance was obvious.  Especially when you entered and found her sitting on the bed, reading a book, ignoring you completely.

“Listen,” you sighed, “I know…”

She didn’t shut her book or look up at you.  You sat down near her feet and carefully took the book away; she crossed her arms as she finally returned your gaze— though hers was much sharper.

“I know you hate having to sit around at home because I’m not, you know, popular or dating or anything,” you informed her.

“You don’t care,” she rolled her eyes.

“I do care!” you insisted.  “But I believe you should do things for your own reasons, not someone else’s.”

“I wish I had that luxury,” Elle snapped, “but I can’t do anything because you don’t want to!  You know I was the only sophomore asked to prom?  And I can’t go because you’re too uptight and feminist-y to just go out with that Eddie guy.”

You frowned.  “How do you know about Eddie?”

She rolled her eyes.  “I’m sixteen, I’m not stupid.  And everyone heard about him serenading you on the soccer field anyways.”

Your cheeks warmed at the memory.  “Well, that’s not the point.  I can go out with him if I want, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to prom.”

“Prom is actually gonna be fun you know, it’s not this horrible institution that you think it is,” Elle promised.  “And Jason asked me and—”

“He never told you we went out, did he?” you interrupted, and Elle’s jaw dropped.

“You’re joking, right?” she assumed; you shook your head.  “You and Jason?!”

“For a few months, freshman year.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Because he’s sooo cute,” you answered with a Valley-girl-voice, but it didn’t do as much to diffuse the tension as you’d hoped.

“You hate him!” Elle noticed.

“I do now.”

“What happened?” she wondered, and you looked away because you thought it might be easier to say it if you weren’t looking right at her.  Even if she hated you, you didn’t want your little sister to think of you in the way she might when you admitted it.

“Well…” you trailed off, but she beat you to it.

“No,” she sighed, “you didn’t— you did it?!”

“Once,” you interjected firmly, as if that made it any better.  “Just once, because, you know, everyone was doing it.  I wanted to be cool— I wanted to feel normal.  But afterwards, I told him I didn’t wanna do it anymore because I wasn’t ready.  Aaaaand he dumped me.”

Elle blinked at you in bewilderment.

“After that, I decided to never do anything else again just because everyone else was doing it.  I haven’t since!  Well, except, you know, going to Steve Harrington’s party and getting wasted.”

“How did I not know about this?” Elle wondered.  Apparently she confused being popular with being omniscient.

“I warned him that if he told anyone, all the cheerleaders would find out how small his dick is,” you snorted.  Elle didn’t seem as amused, though.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she wondered.

“I wanted you to make up your own mind about him,” you replied.

“Then why did you help Daddy keep me hostage here?!”

She got up off the bed and stood, frustration switching to anger, and you wrinkled your eyebrows as well.  “Because I wanted to protect you!” you replied.

“By not letting me experience anything?” she countered.

“Not everything is worth experiencing, Elle!” you snapped.  “Not everyone can be trusted!”

“I wouldn’t know!” she announced furiously.  “You were too busy worrying I’d make the same mistakes as you to let me make my own!”

She stormed out of her own room and left you alone in it with a slam of the door.  You sat on the bed for a minute, considering what she’d said.  Noticing the picture on her nightstand, you sighed at the shot your dad had taken of the two of you, years ago, in line at Disneyland.  She used to think you hung the moon back then… why couldn’t things still be that easy?

~

You glided down the stairs quickly, holding up the end of your dress, and passed Dad as he watched TV.  “Bye, I’m going to prom,” you offered him flippantly as you passed.

“Ha ha, very funny,” he returned flatly.  Of course, when he caught you and your outfit in the corner of his eye, he realized you were serious.

Before he could even ask what was going on, you were out the door.  He would’ve chased you in search of more information, but he was distracted by Elle marching by next in her sparkly, colorful gown.

“What’s that?” he asked when he saw the midriff-baring garment.

“A prom dress!” she answered joyfully.

“I seem to be hearing that word a lot lately,” he frowned.

The doorbell rang, and Elle scampered across the foyer to answer it.  On the other side, Mike was waiting in a suit with a corsage in hand ready to give her— but he stalled when he got a look at her all dolled up (even more than usual).  “Wow,” he beamed, “you look… bitchin’.”

She smiled and started to leave with only a wave to her dad, but he crossed his arms.  “Stop,” he insisted, and Elle sighed as she froze.  “Turn.” 

The young couple turned, Mike looking a bit anxious as Elle prepared for the usual.

“Explain,” Hopper demanded.

“Well, you know how you said I could date if my lovely, wonderful big sister dated?” she batted her eyelashes.  “Turns out she found this guy who’s sort of perfect for her, which is sort of perfect for me, because Mike invited me to the prom—” she squeezed her date’s hand for emphasis— “and I really wanna go and I’m technically allowed since she’s going, and I know you’re a man of your word so you’ll stick to the rule you made.  Right?”

There was a heavy pause; Mike extended his hand to the Chief politely.  “Nice to meet you,” he greeted.

Elle took his hand instead and guided him out the front door.  Powerless, Hopper stepped up to the open doorway and watched them run to the waiting limousine together.  “Back by eleven, you hear me?” he called out.  “One minute past and the entire police department will be looking for you!”

They got in the car and drove off as he watched with a sigh.

~

You’d sort of been expecting Eddie to wear a t-shirt with a tuxedo pattern printed on it… maybe that’s what everyone expected of him.  But he was wearing a real one, in a dark cranberry color that seemed to bring out that little bit of hazel in his deep brown eyes.

It was stupid how easily his one simple glance over your body could make you fight the urge to blush.  You knew you looked good, you actually felt good, but it was different to see Eddie acknowledge it.  “Wow,” he offered with a wide smile.

“Yeah,” you agreed, “uh, you too.”

He handed you a rose before you hooked your arm in his to walk inside to the decorated gymnasium.

“Where’d you get a tux?” you wondered.

“Wayne had one,” Eddie shrugged.

“Really?” you pressed, and Eddie laughed.

“Hell no, he couldn’t even help me with my tie!  I… had a friend help me get this,” Eddie admitted, internally disgusted with himself for referring to Jason Carver as a friend.  Then again, he was disgusted with himself for doing this for Jason’s benefit at all, but at least there was a real benefit for himself, too: the only girl he’d ever really fallen for walking arm-in-arm with him to prom.  “Where’d you get the dress?” he wondered.

“Oh, um,” you blinked quickly, “I guess I really was a hopeless romantic deep down after all… ‘cause I had a nice dress in the back of my closet, just in case someone ever wanted to see me in it.”

There was a little moment of pause as Eddie imagined you saving a dress like this for someone special, hardly believing it was him.

“Listen, I shouldn’t have questioned your motives for asking me out,” you blurted out suddenly.  “I was wrong.  I’m sorry.”

He’d never seen you so… humbled?  And it made his heart twist.  “Don’t sweat it,” he encouraged, “you’re here with me now— that’s all that matters.”

~

Jason was already wearing his tux— and a sparkling-white smile— as your father opened the door.  “Hello, Mr. Hopper,” he offered charmingly, even though anyone with half a brain knows to call him Chief Hopper.  “I’m here to pick up Elle for the prom?”

Saying nothing, the Chief shut the door as suddenly as he’d opened it.

~

As you walked in to the room, dancing and general merriment in every direction, you caught Elle and Mike dancing cheek-to-cheek not too far off— and your sister offered you a quick wave and a gentler smile than you’d seen on her (directed at you, at least) in years.

Robin and Vickie, as always, were dancing to the beat of their own song, ignorant and uncaring to the judgment of others; Lucas guided Max to the dance floor, and you were one of many who noticed how good the unlikely pair looked together.

You were so caught up in it that you almost didn’t notice the music changing to another song— your favorite song.  Eddie nudged you with his elbow and pointed at the stage, where the band from Club Nina joined the musicians already playing, and you gasped.  “Oh my god!” you choked.  “It’s—!”

“I had a friend help me with that, too,” Eddie grinned at you, drinking in your ecstatic excitement.  You looked like a kid in a candy store as the lead singer waved at you; first humbled, then unabashedly joyful… so many new emotions that Eddie wasn’t used to seeing you show, but he liked this one so far.  He liked how beautiful you were when you let yourself be openly happy— it reminded him of the way you looked dancing to this song at that club all those weeks ago.  He hadn’t just been putting on the moves, he really thought you looked sexy when you let go and enjoyed yourself.  And now you looked that way again, but you were dancing with him.  You looked, and felt, freer than ever.

~

Elle was on her way to freshen up in the girls’ room— because the last thing she needed now was a lifting false lash with everything else going so perfectly— when Andy and Patrick stopped her.  “Woah, hey,” Andy said as he grabbed her shoulder, “what’s going on?”

“What?” she wondered.

“Where’s Jason?” they pressed.

“I dunno, probably off somewhere picking his nose?” she replied sarcastically.

“Oh my god,” Patrick laughed.  “I knew he couldn’t do it!”

“Huh?” she asked.

“He was so sure he could pop your cherry tonight,” Andy explained, bemused, “but he was full of shit— as per usual.”

Elle stepped back.  “What a creep!” she spat, but they weren’t even paying attention anymore, just chuckling to each other about how they wouldn’t let their team captain live this one down for a while.

As for Jason, he wasn’t too far away after all— he was angrily storming through the dancing crowd towards you and Eddie.  “Hey, freak!” he yelped just before grabbing him by the collar of his jacket and pulling him aside, though not quite far enough away.  “What’s Elle doing here with that pipsqueak?!  I didn’t pay you to take out her sister just so some little weirdo could get with her instead.”

Eddie whipped his head around, praying to whatever deity would listen that you hadn’t heard, but it only took a split-second to see the look in your eyes.  And there was a third emotion he’d never seen on you before: real heartbreak.  No anger, no rage, just devastation.

“Wait,” he pleaded as you began to walk away.

“I can’t believe I was right about you,” you replied with a shake of your head, “the first time.”

Jason let Eddie go to unsuccessfully chase after you; he was disinterested in the Freak versus Bitch drama unfolding once again, much more focused on getting back at Mike Wheeler for screwing him over.

Lucas tried to intercept him, but he got shoved roughly to the ground on the way to Mike.  “You messed with the wrong guy,” Jason informed him with a sneer, “and now you’re so done.  You and that prissy bitch.”

“Watch what you say about her,” Mike warned angrily, but Jason wasn’t exactly intimidated— in fact, he almost looked amused right before his fist collided with the sophomore’s face.  Mike crumpled to the ground, not exactly a match for Jason’s strength… but then again, neither was Elle, and she was the one who swung back— right in the nose.

“That’s for making my boyfriend bleed!” she explained as he clutched his face.  “That’s for my sister,” she added as she kneed him in the gut, “and this… is for me.”

A swift kick to the crotch sent him to the ground, and Elle stepped over him to offer a hand to Mike.  He took it, looking up at her in awe as she helped him stand again.  “Uh, boyfriend?” he noticed.

It was the kind of move you would’ve been proud of, if you were there to see it; apparently ball-kicking ran in the Hopper family, and not just in the soccer sense.

“Please, let me explain,” Eddie begged as he chased you out of the gym.

“I think it’s pretty self-explanatory!” you returned sharply.  “It was all a set-up, by fucking Jason!  I should’ve known it was too…”

Too good to be true.  You couldn’t admit that, you’d already given away so much.  “It wasn’t— that was just how it started!” Eddie promised.  “But I really fell for you.”

“Yeah?  Funny what money can do to a person.”

“I never cared about the money!” he insisted, and when you spun around to challenge that, he grabbed your shoulders.  “I only cared about you.”

“You’ve got a funny way of showing it,” you sneered, and he did want to show you— he wanted to wipe that all-too-familiar look off your face and go back to how things were.  He kissed you, hard and forceful, but you pushed him off with a whine.  “I hate you!” you spat as you managed to fight him off— not that he was trying that hard to force you to stay, he knew that was wrong… though he wished he could.  He wished he could hug you tight enough to keep you here until you would listen, but you were too stubborn for it to work anyways.  It was that stubbornness that made him resent you in the beginning, then it was one of the things he fell for— and now it was the reason you were walking away, and he was just watching you go, unwilling to hurt you anymore.

~

“You’re sure you don’t wanna come?” Elle asked again, pityingly, as Mike held her hand.  You shook your head.  “Okay, well, we’ll miss you.”

It was sweet, but it was a lie; a young couple didn’t want you chaperoning their movie date.  Lies can be so sweet that way, the best ones usually are.  You watched them walk together down the sidewalk, knowing it wouldn’t cheer you up to go with them.  “Is she gonna be okay?” Mike whispered to his girlfriend, though not quietly enough.

“I hope so,” Elle replied softly.

As they left, your dad appeared and sat next to you on the steps, groaning as his older joints made it a bit more of a task.  “Where’s she going?” he wondered.

“To meet a bunch of bikers,” you offered quickly.  “Big ones… full of sperm.”

“Not funny,” Hopper frowned.  You gave him a look, and he smiled slightly.  “A little funny.”

It still wasn’t enough to make you smile back, and you looked forward at the houses across the street again.  

“So… the dance,” he remembered, “was it groovy?”

Even that couldn’t make you crack a smirk, though you wanted to.  “Some parts…”

“Which parts?” he wondered.

“The part where Elle beat the crap out of some loser,” you recalled— the stories around school were already glorious.  You were pretty sure the rumor that she pulled some Karate Kid moves and spin-kicked him in the face was just a rumor, but you liked picturing it anyways.

“Elle did what?” he gasped.

“What, are you afraid she’s taking after me?” you challenged.

“No,” he answered quickly, “I’m impressed.”

You looked at him again, soaking in that all-too-rare approval.  It’s not that he wasn’t affectionate… well, he wasn’t, but it was only because he had trouble expressing himself.  It made his eloquence going forward even more unexpected.

“You know, fathers don’t like to admit when their daughters become capable of running their own lives,” he explained.  “It means we’re obsolete… we’re spectators.  Elle still lets me play a few innings— you’ve had me on the bench for years— and when you go to Sarah Lawrence, I won’t even be able to watch the game.”

You were about to complain about the baseball metaphor until you realized what he was really saying.  “When I go?” you repeated excitedly.

“Don’t tell me you changed your mind now!  I already sent them a check,” he answered with a slightly mischievous smile.  Exclaiming in joy, you threw yourself on him for a tight hug.

~

“I assume you’ve all prepared your sonnets for today?” Ms. O’Donnell looked over the room.  She frowned when she saw Jason sinking into his chair.  “Mr. Carver?”

“Uh… I, uh, have a doctor’s note,” he explained.

“Oh— well, regardless, sunglasses are not permitted indoors,” she reminded him.

Sighing, he took the aviators off, and the class snickered at the sight of two black eyes on either side of his bandaged nose.

“Would anyone else like to read theirs for us?” she encouraged, and you waited a second before raising your hand.

That seemed to surprise everyone— most of all Eddie, who lifted his head from where it had been resting on his desk.  Some of your classmates assumed the worst— here we go and time for a feminist lecture that rhymes and all that— but some seemed to sense what was really coming.  Ms. O’Donnell, pleasantly surprised, stepped aside to let you come stand at the front.

You opened your notebook and did your best not to look at everyone looking at you.

Clearing your throat, you began.  “I hate the way you talk to me,” you read aloud, “and the way you cut your hair.  I hate the way you drive my car, I hate it when you stare.”

Your reading was particularly flat and unemotional, just hoping to get this over with, yet at the same time, so many emotions were flooding you inside.

“I hate your stupid white Reeboks, and the way you read my mind— I hate you so much it make me sick, it even makes me rhyme.”

You spared one half-second glance up, and even just in your peripheral you saw Eddie’s face, and you had to fight getting choked up.

“I hate… I hate the way you’re always right, I hate it when you lie,” you whimpered, voice breaking, “I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when— when you make me cry.”

As a hot tear crossed your cheek, you fought the instinct to defiantly wipe it away— for once, you wanted to feel this, and you wanted to be seen even at your most vulnerable.

“I hate it when you’re not around, and the fact that you didn’t call,” you continued, approaching the end.  “But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you; not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.”

The way Eddie was looking at you was just too much; the way everyone was looking at you was just too much.  You stormed out of the class, leaving them in stunned silence, crying harder as you ran down the hall.

~

Your face was dry by the time you got to your car; maybe you’d let Eddie play with your heart and invade your mind and cry way too much, but you decided that was over now— no more tears over boys.  Especially dumbass, annoying, sexy, horrible, gorgeous boys who play you for a fool and have the audacity to fall for you in the process.

You were about you open your driver’s side door when you saw the sparkling white resin in the front seat, and you bent down, greeted by the Fender Stratocaster you’d been eying resting in your seat.

Reaching in through the open window, you pulled it out delicately and inspected it like it was magic— because maybe it was.

“Nice, huh?”

Eddie’s voice behind you made you jump and spin, and he smiled at you expectantly as he shoved his hands in his pockets and tilted back on his heels for a second.  “A Fender Strat?” you noticed.  “Is this— is this mine?”

“I figured you could use it,” he shrugged, “when you start your band.  Or join mine.”

You smiled slowly as you looked at it again, and then back at him.

“Besides, I had some extra cash,” he explained.  “Some jerk paid me to take out this amazing girl…”

“Yeah?” you smirked.

“Yeah,” he nodded, “but, uh, I kinda fucked it up.  ‘Cause I totally fell for her.”

You loved the way he looked with a flush tinting his cheeks.  “Really?” you pressed.

“Of course,” he grinned.  “Very rare to find a girl who’ll flash someone to break you out of detention.”

It was your turn to feel your face warm, then, wondering how long ago he found out about that.  Dropping your forehead into one of your hands in embarrassment, you laughed shamefully at the memory, hardly believing you’d done something so impulsive.  As risky as it was, you actually kind of liked the person you were when you were with Eddie.

With a gentle grip on your wrist he moved your hand away from your face, the other tilting up your chin so he could kiss you.  You let him, for a moment, but before you could properly melt into him you carefully pushed him back by his shoulders.  

“You know you can’t just buy me a guitar whenever you screw up, right?” you asked.

“I know,” he agreed, “but hey!  There’s always drums, bass, tambourine… triangle…”

You snorted your laugh and he kissed you again.  You pushed him away again.  “And don’t just think you can—”

He kissed you again, a little harder, and you gave in to it willingly.

You’d grown up in churches all your life, from going with your family as a kid every Sunday to now living in a convent full time. But you felt out of place standing on the stairs of the looming cathedral before you. Maybe it was because you knew what lurked beyond the arched double doors, waiting for you.

LA was a war zone, and that was reflected by the heavily armored soldiers stationed inside the cathedral. They swarmed you the second you stepped foot inside. “Ma’am, you can’t be in here.”

“Please, I need to see my brother. His name is Claudio—”

“Citizens are not allowed to be here.” His voice was muffled behind the plastic guard shielding his face. “It’s unsafe. I have to ask you to leave.”

“Please, I just need to see him for a second.” You tried to push past him.

He placed a hand on your shoulder and started steering you out the way you came. “Ma’am, I’m going to escort you out now.”

“Sister.”

You spun around to lock eyes with a pair of bespectacled ones. “Adrian,” you breathed. You hadn’t seen him since before he was disgraced.

He looked up at the soldier holding you. “Unhand her, please.”

The soldier did so wordlessly, the blood draining from his face. You shirked him off and took a step forward.

Adrian focused his attention back on you. “What are you doing here?”

“My brother was captured last night.” You fidgeted with your fingers. “I was hoping to speak with him.”

He looked you up and down. “Well, I don’t see why not.”

The soldier behind you spoke up. “Sir, it isn’t authorized—”

“Need I remind you who the authority here is?” His face went stony as he stared him down. “She has more right to step foot on these grounds than you do, soldier.”

The soldier shuffled awkwardly on his feet and lowered his head. “Sorry, sir.”

Adrian shot him one last poisonous glare before he shifted his gaze to you, a small smile on his face. “Follow me, please, sister.”

The soldiers parted for him as he led you further into the cathedral. It was all ornately carved wood and intricate stained glass. You wondered what made them choose such an extravagant location as a base of operations. At least your brother’s prison was beautiful.

He stopped in front of an unassuming door. “Your brother’s just through here.”

Your heart leapt in your chest. “Do you mind if I have a moment alone with him?”

He made an uneasy face. “I can’t be sure how he’ll respond to you in his… condition.”

“I’ll be fine. I’m his sister.” You stared up at him with wide, pleading eyes. “Please, Adrian.”

That kind smile graced his features again. “Okay. I’ll be right outside if you need me.”

You bowed your head to him. “Thank you.”

He held the door open for you, and you stepped inside. The room had been converted into a small cell with a cramped bed and a tiny square window offering a view of the city. You wrinkled your nose at the pot in the corner.

The doors closed behind you as your eyes landed on your brother. On the way over, your mind had raced with thoughts of what he’d looked like, from worst to best case scenarios. Now, finally getting to see him, he appeared tired and a little roughed up, but nowhere near as bad as you’d imagined.

Claudio looked up when you walked in and called your name. “What are you doing here?”

You rushed to him. “I came as soon as I could.” You fell to your knees and grabbed his arms. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

He shook his head almost in a daze. “You shouldn’t be here.” He pushed you away from him. “Go away. Leave while you still can.”

You stumbled back. “It’s okay. You won’t hurt me, Claudio.”

“Not me.” He looked pointedly at the door. “Them.”

You reached for his hands. “The soldiers are cold, but Adrian’s the one in charge, and he’s an old friend.” You rubbed your thumbs soothingly over his knuckles. “He won’t let any harm come to you.”

“It’s not me you have to worry about,” he murmured.

Your thumbs stopped. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t know him as well as you think you do.” He snatched his hands away from you as if you’d burned him. “Don’t trust a word he says.”

You pursed your lips. He clearly was still in shock. “You’re not going to be here for much longer, okay?” You offered him a soft smile and patted his knees. “This is all a misunderstanding. I’ll talk to Adrian and get it sorted out.”

He gritted his teeth. “Why aren’t you listening to me?” He grabbed your shoulders and shook you. “Forget about me! Save yourself!”

He shoved you again, this time hard enough that you fell on your ass with a yelp. The door was thrown open a second later, and Adrian rushed in. “Is everything okay? I heard shouting.”

You waved him away. “I’m fine.”

Claudio’s head whipped around to Adrian. “Stay away from her!” he hissed, baring his fangs and preparing to pounce.

Adrian helped you up and ushered you out of the room. You looked back at Claudio and mouthed the words “I’ll get you out, I promise” before Adrian shut the door behind you with a resounding slam. You jumped as fists banged on it from the other side, rattling the door in its frame.

Adrian slung an arm over your shoulders, pulling you into his side. “Come with me. I’ll take you to my office.”

The halls of the cathedral were dead silent. Your footsteps echoed off of the stone and resonated in the tall archways. Solemn statues loomed in the dark watching you as you passed. Adrian didn’t let go of you for a second, like he was afraid you’d collapse and sink to the floor.

It was strange to be in his presence again after all this time, especially under such dire circumstances. You’d known he was in LA, of course. He’d made quite a name for himself since his exile from the church. But you’d never thought you’d cross paths.

He lowered you into a chair, and you looked up to find yourself in his office. He got you a glass of water and held it out to you. You thanked him and took it from him, tilting your head back as you downed it in one swallow.

“I’m sorry you had to see your brother like that,” he said, settling his hands on his hips.

You set the glass down on the desk next to you. “He’s not well. He needs to come home with me.”

He made an unsure face. “Now, sister, we apprehended him at the riot for a reason.”

“Which was an accident, I’m sure. He got swept up in the excitement.”

He leveled you with a knowing stare. “He attacked some of my men.”

Your brow furrowed. That didn’t sound like Claudio. “He must’ve been provoked.”

“You saw what happened back there.” He gestured vaguely in the direction you’d come. “If I’d intervened a second later, he would’ve torn you to shreds.”

“No!” you interjected. “Claudio would never hurt me. He’s just not himself.”

“You’re right. He’s not.” He leaned his hip against the desk. “He’s a monster.”

Your head snapped up to look at him. “He’s my brother.”

“Not anymore.” He shook his head sorrowfully. “It’s too late for him, sister.”

Tears welled in your eyes. “No, no, it’s not.” There was a tremor in your voice. “Please, please let him go. Let me take him home. He won’t hurt anyone.”

He turned his back on you as he walked around the desk. “I’ve been dealing with creatures of his kind a lot longer than you have, sister.” He sank into the chair across the desk from you. “He’s cursed now, wicked, vile, a slave to his passions.”

You leaned forward, gripping the arms of the chair. “I can save him.”

“There’s nothing left to save.” He didn’t meet your eye. You searched his face for some sign of remorse, but didn’t find any. “The more like him off the streets, the better.”

Your mouth opened and closed in disbelief. “Please, you can’t do this. What do you want? Money?”

His eyes flicked up to shoot at you. “Are you bribing me, sister?” His tone was reproachful.

You slumped in your seat. “I’m sorry. I’m desperate. I’d do anything to save my brother.”

Something sparked in his eye. “Perhaps there is something you could do.”

Your face lit up with hope. “Yes?”

He tapped his fingers against his desk. “I’d be going against direct orders if I were to release your brother. I could lose everything I’ve worked for.”

“I know. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important to me.”

He tilted his head thoughtfully. “But if I got something in return, some mutual assurance…”

Your brows drew together. “Like what?”

He slowly reached for your hand resting on the desk, his thumb raking across your knuckles. “I’ve had my eye on you for quite some time, sister. I wasn’t able to act on it before, but things are different now.”

You blinked. His words wouldn’t sink in. “I don’t understand.”

His lips curled into a smile. He laughed. “For someone so smart, you’ve always been quite innocent, sister.”

Suddenly, his touch made your skin crawl. You retracted your hand as if you’d been stung. “Are you… propositioning me?”

That smirk was still etched on his face. “Don’t act so surprised, sister. You must’ve known I was sweet on you.”

You thought back to all your interactions in the past. But he was a bishop, a high-ranking important figure in the church. You were just a lowly nun. You hardly thought you even registered on his radar.

“But… I can’t. You know that.”

He cocked his head, his eyes raking over you. “And here I was thinking you’d do anything to save your brother.”

You shifted uncomfortably in your chair, fidgeting with the skirt of your frock. Guilt ate away at you. You’d taken the most sacred of vows, pledging yourself to God, but at the same time, your brother’s life was at risk. Could you trade your soul for his?

You looked up at him from beneath your lashes. “You promise to let him go? If I do what you ask, nothing will happen to him?”

He pressed a hand over his heart. “I swear on the sanctity of my soul, neither I nor my men will come after your brother as long as I live, so help me God.”

You chewed your lip. He sounded like he meant it, even if you weren’t sure how reliable his soul was.

You let out a long breath, avoiding his eye. You felt like you were making a deal with the devil. “What is it you’d have me do?”

His smirk widened to a grin. He knew he’d won.

He pushed away from the desk and rounded the side. “Don’t look so frightened of me, sister.” He stood in front of you and pinched your chin between his fingers, forcing you to rise. “I only want to kiss you.”

He leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. You stayed completely still against him, unsure of what to do. You’d only kissed a couple of times before you gave yourself over to the church, and even then it was just kids fumbling around. But he didn’t seem to mind as he moved his lips against yours like it was the most romantic kiss of his life.

He pulled away, swiping the string of saliva connecting you from your lip with his thumb. “On your knees, sister.” His pupils were lust-blown as he commanded you, his voice low and husky.

You stood stock still, gaping up at him. He pushed on your shoulders, and your legs gave out underneath you. You landed on your knees as he flicked open the fly on his pants, pulling himself out and stroking his hard length.

You stared at the flushed tip beading with precome. You’d never seen one in person, only in anatomical drawings, let alone come so close to one. “I… I don’t know how.”

“It’s alright. I’ll show you.” He reached down and pushed on your bottom lip. “Open.”

You did as he said, and he slid into your open mouth. You tried not to retch at the briny taste of him. He thrust shallowly at first, holding your mouth open by your chin.

He started to delve deeper into the warm, wet cavern of your mouth. Your jaw began to ache, and your nostrils flared as you inhaled, desperately trying to appease the burning in your lungs. You gagged as his tip hit the back of your throat. You pushed on his thighs, hoping to get just a moment of relief.

He didn’t let up, grabbing you by the habit to keep you still. You flailed, your eyes watering and drool leaking out of the corners of your stretched lips. Your throat constricted painfully around his cock, but the act that caused you such agony seemed to bring him immense pleasure as a growl rumbled deep in his chest.

“This is where you belong, sister.” He stared down at you with a lecherous look in his eyes. “This is what you were made for.”

He tugged you off of his cock and pulled you to your feet. He crashed his lips against yours in a sloppy kiss. He groped you through your tunic, roughly feeling you up.

Your lips separated with a smack. “I’ve wondered for so long what you look like underneath this.” He pulled down your habit, revealing your hair to him. “Even when I was ordained, I’d fuck my fist at night imagining you naked.”

Your face heated up at such a crass confession leaving the lips of a man you once revered. He grabbed the hem of your frock and tugged it up over your head, throwing it to the side. He was quick to undo the clasp on your bra before ripping the garment away. He hooked his thumbs under the band of your panties and dragged them down your legs. You grabbed his shoulders as you stepped out of them.

You reached for the garter belt holding up your stockings, but he shook his head. “No, no, keep those on.”

You shied away, trying to cover yourself with your hands as much as possible. No one had ever seen you so bare in such a vulnerable state before.

“Come now, sister.” He grabbed your hands, pulling you closer to him. “There’s no need to hide from me.”

His hand dipped down to the apex of your thighs, feeling along your folds. He found your clit and circled the bud with his thumb. Your hands shot out to grab his shoulders as an unfamiliar sensation sparked through you.

His index finger pressed against your entrance, pushing into you. You winced as your walls clamped down on the appendage, trying to force him out and stop him from going any further. You dug your nails into the fabric of his shirt.

“I need to prepare you, sister.” He pumped his finger in and out of you slowly. “As much as I want to fuck you right this second, I don’t want to hurt you.”

You found that hard to believe. You squeaked as he pushed another finger into you. You focused on the waves of pleasure radiating from his thumb flicking your clit to beat back the pain. He curled his fingers, rubbing against a spongey spot inside of you you didn’t even know was there. The pain dissipated as your walls stretched to accommodate his fingers, wetness pooling in his palm.

He tore his hand away from you and with a sweep of his arm, sent everything on his desk crashing to the ground. The glass of water he’d gotten you shattered upon impact, sending shards scattering across the floor. Any trace of the gentle, caring man he’d pretended to be was gone as he threw you on the desk.

The wind was knocked out of your lungs as you landed on your back. He grabbed your knees and spread your legs wide for him, stepping in between them. His eyes were fixed to your core as he stroked his erection.

“This might hurt a little at first, but it’ll get better, I promise.” He positioned himself at your entrance. “Trust me.”

You weren’t sure how you were supposed to. Your brother was right; he wasn’t who you thought he was at all.

You weren’t prepared for the pinch as he pushed into you. You squeezed your eyes shut, gritting your teeth. Your muscles pulled taut like a string about to snap.

“I’m almost in.” His voice was strained, his face contorted in bliss. “Relax, it’ll hurt less that way.”

You tried to listen to him, but it was hard when there was nothing to take you out of your state of panic. You focused on your breathing, trying to slow the frantic rise and fall of your chest. Time seemed to stretch on forever as he pushed you further and further past your limit.

Finally, he was fully sheathed within you, the tip of his cock firmly pressed against your cervix. You could feel the hot, throbbing length of him inside your channel. You whimpered. You felt like a butterfly with its wings pinned encased in glass.

He grabbed your hips as he slid out before thrusting back in with a groan. “You don’t know how many times I’ve come to the thought of you like this, on your back beneath me.”

He held onto your legs as he fucked into you faster, the desk creaking under you. You jolted with each thrust and grabbed onto the lip of the desk above you for stability. He clearly knew what he was doing. He must not have been all that holy to begin with.

He leaned forward until his chest was flush against yours. “So chaste, so pious,” he almost sneered, his face taking up the whole of your vision. “I can’t wait to ruin you.”

His hand snaked between your bodies to find your clit again. That sensation returned as he rubbed light, fast circles over your bud. Your discomfort ebbed away, a white hot ball of euphoria forming in its place. You bit back the moans that threatened to escape.

You gasped as his fingers wrapped around your throat. “Now, don’t be selfish, sister,” he chastised. “Let me hear all those pretty noises you’re making for me.”

You couldn’t stop all the desperate whines you’d been holding back from spilling out. “Oh, God,” you moaned, arching up into him.

His hand tightened on your throat. “Come for me, sister.” He sped up until he was jackhammering into you. “I want you to know who’s making you feel this good.”

The ball twisting in your gut grew bigger and bigger. It scared you. You tried to fight it, wanted to tell him to stop. But you reminded yourself why you were doing this. There was nothing to do but fall over the precipice.

You came undone underneath him, mewling and writhing on the desk. Your walls fluttered around him as waves of ecstasy pulsed from your core and spread to your nerve endings. Your toes curled before you went limp beneath him.

He grunted and groaned, sweat beading on his forehead and running down his temple. He pulled out and jerked himself fast. He came across your stomach, ropes of white painting your skin.

Your lashes fluttered as you came down from your high. He leaned over you with his hands planted on either side of you, catching his breath. His shirt was soaked through with sweat where his chest met yours.

He pushed himself off of you. You sat up on your elbows, watching him gather your undergarments from the floor. He tossed them to you, and you fumbled as you caught them.

You hastily redressed as he grabbed your habit from where it’d been discarded. He wiped himself off on the fabric before offering it to you with a snicker.

You took it from him, your cheeks heating up in embarrassment. You pulled it on as he tucked himself back in his jeans. You cringed as his spend cooled and turned tacky on your skin.

You felt dirty, sullied, like he’d taken something precious from you you’d never get back. Your mouth tasted sour. You didn’t expect God to forgive you for willingly breaking an oath, but you hoped he’d understand why you sacrificed yourself for your brother.

You had just pulled your habit back into place when the door opened. You slid off the desk and whirled around like a deer in headlights. The soldier from before stood in the doorway.

“Forgive me for interrupting.” His gaze shifted back and forth between you and Adrian. You smoothed down your skirt, stepping behind Adrian to shield yourself from his view.

“Then you should’ve knocked at the least.” Adrian shamelessly fiddled with the button on his jeans. “What is it?”

The soldier cleared his throat, standing at attention. “We’ve located Annabelle Li, sir.”

Adrian’s lips quirked into a smirk. “Excellent. Oh, and release Claudio. He’ll be leaving with his sister today,” he said nonchalantly.

The soldier’s eyes went wide. “But, sir—”

“That’s an order, soldier.” He didn’t raise his voice, but it still boomed nonetheless. He arched a brow. “Am I understood?”

The soldier gave a curt nod, defeated. “Yes, sir.”

“Good.” He waved him away. “Now leave us.”

The soldier turned on his heel and left, closing the door behind him.

Relief washed over you. You weren’t sure he’d actually go through with his end of the deal, that what you’d done would be worth it. “Thank you, Adrian,” you murmured softly.

He looked at you and smiled. “I’m a man of my word.” He reached out to caress your cheek. “And I always keep my promises.”

You forced yourself to stay still under his touch. You swallowed hard. “Can I leave now?”

His hand lingered on your face a second longer. You wondered if he could hear your heart beating in your chest. He retracted his hand, chuckling.

“Yes, you can go, though I hope my generosity won’t be easily forgotten.” His eyes bored into yours. “It was nice to see you after all this time.”

Much nicer for him, you assumed. “Goodbye, Adrian.” You started towards the door.

He started picking up the things he’d swept off the desk. “Don’t be a stranger,” he called after you. “I’ll be seeing you again soon, sister.”

You didn’t know what he meant by that but knew better than to question it.

You scurried through the halls as swiftly as you could without drawing attention to yourself. You returned to the entrance of the cathedral and found your brother with guards standing behind him. Two of them gripped his arms tight, their jaws clenched and eyes hard.

You rushed over to him. “Claudio!”

The soldier from earlier stared at you with venomous hatred in his eyes. “Take your leech and go, whore,” he spat, shoving Claudio at you.

You caught him as he crashed into you. Claudio quickly recovered and whirled around, getting in the soldier’s face. “What did you call my sister?”

You latched onto his arm, holding him back. “Claudio, don’t.” You tugged him towards the exit. “Let’s go.”

You held your breath as his shoulders hunched like a dog with its hackles raised. The last thing you wanted was for Claudio to give the soldiers a reason to lock him up again, not after everything you did to get him out. But he backed down, shooting the soldier one last death glare before allowing you to lead him out of the cathedral.

Once you were out of earshot, Claudio looked at you, eyes sharp. “What did you do?” he snapped.

You avoided his gaze as you walked down the front steps. You felt like he could see right through you. “I talked to Adrian and worked everything out, just like I said I would.” You tried to keep your voice light, but the words didn’t sound convincing even to your own ears.

“You’re lying.” He huffed. “I told you not to trust him. I told you!” His voice broke with raw emotion.

“I know.” You stared at columns of thick, black smoke rising over the skyline in the distance. You wished you would’ve listened to him.

You’d gone into the cathedral alone and come out with your brother like you’d planned, but you didn’t think you’d lose yourself in the process.

—Who's there? Othello?— my voice comes out raspy as his stealthy presence wakes me up.

—Yes, it's me—

—Will you come to bed, my lord?— I ask with hope, things have not been great for us lately, far from it, so my hope goes towards at least having a peaceful night with him and for us to rest from all the drama.

—Have you prayed tonight?—

—Yes I have, my lord— I lie, I´ve never really been religious and I stopped praying to his God and believing a long time ago, however for him I´ve been willing to pretend and act convincingly.

—If you remember now any of the crimes you haven´t asked for forgiveness yet, I suggest you pray to the heavens for it immediately—

—What do you mean by that? Crimes?— I am fully awaken from my slumber now, confusion and fear making my heart race rapidly, knowing yet not accepting that our fights are to continue now.

—Don´t pretend innocence with me! Now get on your knees and pray, it won´t kill you...however it might actually kill you if you don´t do it— his tone if filled with anger, without having to raise his voice at me he makes me know how furic he is at me.

—Wait what? Kill me? Is this some kind of threat now? So this is how far you have allowed this whole situation to go, huh— Now I´m getting angry as well, leveling up with my fear.

He just stares at me with an intimidating gaze, they accomplish what he is trying, I feel intimidated however this time I decide that it won´t paralyze me, the need to talk back wins in me, I won´t submit willingly to him again even if it´s the worst mistake I make in my life.

—For a moment I wanted to think you were refering of God taking my life, but...— I start with a little smirk as if I was joking —but deep inside me I know that´s not true. I´ve never feared no man the way I fear you my darling, and even with this I decided to love you from the beginning, your anger has always paralyzed me with fright since the first time I saw you like that...— I finish, already giving up in trying to reason with him and convince him to just drop it.

—Think of your sins— he says, completely dimsissing what I just told him. This only allows me to know that my words have affected him no matter how well he´s hiding it.

—So that´s how you want it to be...okay then. I haven´t commited any "sins" nor "crimes", I´m tired of you accusing me of this! No I´m not lying to you, and no, I´m definitely not fucking Cassio, I don´t even have a thing for him! If loving you is a sin then fucking send me to hell, Jesus H Christ man! I will not allow you to keep disrespecting me like this Othello— I raise my voice at him as I get out of bed and stand right in front of him only inches away, staring right into his eyes. I´m scared yet I don´t let that stop me from finally speaking my mind.

—Blasphemer! Stop lying to me, there is no use of lies now for I have proof of your sin! I know what I saw! It was my- —

—No shut it! I don´t care what you think you saw, I know who and what I am. I am a woman incapable of betraying the man she loves, that means you!— I say stern yet not screaming, wishing only to be heard at least.

—You´re breaking my heart...— he whispers.

—And you´re breaking mine! You are breaking me!—.

One of his hands grabs me by the throat and starts choking me, yet he´s not using the strength it´d require to actually kill me or anyone, it´s more of a warning and a threat.

—You could banish me away from this land, yet you insist on actually killing me...— I struggle to say, my hand holding his not trying to open his, just holding it gently —but you will regret doing so once you find out I´m an innocent, and even a fool for loving a man so blind of the truth...— my other hand sctratches his face, my long nails burying themselves in his flesh, blood pouring out of the trail I´m making.

He yelps in pain, releases me and covers his face, his blood now staining his hand.

—I´ll give you another chance to reconsider— I gasp between coughs as I try to catch my breath. I´ve never felt so afraid before, tears run down my cheeks due to the desperation, my whole body trembles is if it were freezing.

Will I really allow him to kill me? Am I willing to let him own my life by giving him the right to take it from me? No...I cannot, I should fight, I must!! But...I love him, how else to prove him of that? No! Stop! I must not let this happen! For love...I must put a stop to this no matter how...

While he´s still distracted with his well deserved pain I grab the knife I´ve hidden underneath the mattress and hide it under the sleeve of my nightgown.

Once "recovered" from the pain I caused he stares at me in awe and walks closely towards me, retaking the positions we were taking before he attacked me, he towers over me.

—I will kill you...however I will not allow you to go as another man´s woman, you will be mine again!—

It all happens so quickly I barely have time to react, even less time to process what´s happening.

He grabs me by the shoulders and throws me to the bed immediately straddling my hips and holding my wrists on top of my head with one of his hands making the knife under my sleeve cut through my skin and going to a side. I start kicking and try to move my torso and arms abruptly, but no matter my strenght and the adrenaline running through my veins he is just stronger and heavier than me. I know it, I´m now at his mercy and he is to do with me as he pleases, my quickly made plan of stabbing him if he tried killing me and running away, my hope just torn apart...and he hasn´t even begun.

—Don´t do this! You don´t know what you´re doing, you´ll regret it Othello, hear me!— I scream not yet ready to give up completely.

His other hand grabs the hem of my nightgown and stains it with his blood, he rips the think fabric easily, exposing my bare breasts to him. His face goes towards my neck and bites so hard his teeth bore into my skin, marking me. When he draws back he just stares at me, his lips covered with my blood now.

—It will hurt less if you stay still, darling— he hisses the pet name, giving me another mark on my collarbone, making it hurt more. He lifts his hips to leave a bit of space, his hand going between us and groping between my thighs, making pressure right on my clit, moving his fingers in circles.

As much as it hurts to admit, him forcing me to feel pleasure is not the only thing that is making me feel good...

His bites slowly turn to kisses all over my breasts, sucking my skin and marking it, leaving a trail of my blood wherever his lips touch. It´s in this moment when I realize I´m not fighting anymore, my body isn´t trying to get away, it´s just squirming in response to the pleasure and pain he provokes. My pleads for mercy have also stoped and became replaced by gasps and muffled moans when he starts licking my nipples and biting them with a rare gentleness.

—I told you, it hurts less when you stay still and let it happen, after all there´s no stopping what has to happen.— he says mockingly as he continues to tear my the rest of the fabric covering me, immediately after that his hand returns to my pussy, rubbing my lips together so they rub against my clit. His other hand freeing my wrists to grab my face instead and force my mouth open, spitting in it.

—You are mine, your pleasure is mine, your pain is mine...mine and no one else´s—. With that being said he takes the knife out of my sleeve, making another cut on my skin but this time it was on purpose. As I yelp in pain he throws the weapon to the floor and far away from us both. —Now not even you will be able to take away what´s rightfully mine— he hisses

I didn´t even notice how wet my pussy is, but he did, once it started to drip and as he rubbed my wetness spread to my lips and his fingers, making one of his fingers "accidentally" slide in. —That was so easy, you really are a whore! Then...I should make you only my whore!— that last sentence was said with biterness, that destructive biterness and jealousy that got him to this point.

Without haste one of his fingers went inside me, curling and touching that sweet spot that made me lose the little control I had.

—No! Please don´t! I beg you, please just stop!— I cry out in shame, I wanted him to stop no matter how good it felt. I put one of my hands on his chest as if trying to push him away while the other one went to his hand between my thighs trying uselessly to push it away as well.

His finger only went faster, hitting that spot harder, pushing me to the edge. I can´t even control the embarrassing moans coming out of me, and the sounds that his fingers were making inside me only added to my shame, I can hear how wet I am.

—You don´t get to tell me what to do, a sinner doesn´t get to make requests for their God— he laughs out, not getting my hands out of his way, he sees right through me, pretending to fight but enjoying the sensations he makes me have, all of this he finds amusing. Releasing my face to accommodate himself better, his forearm now besides my head standing his weight there and on his knees so he can lift his hips better than before, giving more space to both of our hands between us, his face inches away from mine.

As I feel my orgasm build I try my best to resist it and not allow it to happen, I really try and even contain my moans and gasps.

—Aww, don´t think I don´t see what you´re doing, darling...let´s see how long you last trying, shall we?— he says with a little kiss on the tip of my nose tenderly.

I was holding it well enough...or so I believed, right when I thought I was doing well and had managed to have myself under control, I come undone, moaning almost screaming, my legs shaking and my toes curling, I almost felt like if my legs were going to cramp, my back arches making my breasts rub against his chest and that little stumulation of my nipples against his clothes don´t help my current state. My mind just goes blank, I can only feel the pain of his bites still present and the overwhelming pleasure, everything else is just like if it didn´t exist, just this confusing moment with the man I loved now almost gone, almost like if it were a monster instead of a man.

I lose sense of time, I know I am coming down from my high yet I fail to at least aproximate how long has been, my mind is still vague, I try to speak but I can´t form a coherent sentence, I barely have awareness of my surroundings but I still feel him get off of me, luckly for him I can´t run even if I actually wanted to.

As I regain consciousness I see him sitting next to me with a devilish grin on his face just staring at me, his eyes all over me like if he was admiring his own work of art.

The shame and embarrassment kicks in again, I cover my face and start crying.

—Oh don´t cry, it´s okay to get dumb when the only man with the right of owning you makes you come like the slut you are— he shushes in a calming and comforting voice making the perfect contrast with his words.

I feel him get up from the bed but I don´t even bother to look at him, I feel too overwhelmed but this time with guilt and sadness, trying to process what just happened, wanting to convince myself it didn´t just happen, but when the cold air comes through the open window of our bedroom and hits against my naked body and cooling the wetness between my legs spread all over my pussy it makes my mind stick to the truth.

Next thing I know he´s on top of me again, his hips between my legs, his hard and aching cock already out and positioned near my entrance, his hands taking my wrists and pinning them against the mattress.

—No! Please! You´ve already done enough! You don´t need to do this! Please my lord, I beg you! I´ll do what you ask, I´ll pray and beg for forgiveness for my sins!— I say desperately between sobs.

—Oh yeah? Good...— he replies in a low tone, rubbing his cock against my clit. —Start praying then— he comands and thrusts inside me in an abrupt motion.

It was easy for him to slide inside but the stretch his cock makes hurts, he didn´t prepare me properly for this and it was of course his intention.

—I told you to start praying, didn´t I?—

It doesn´t take long for him to start moving slowly but hard, pushing my cervix harshly with each thrust.

—O-our father, Who art in heaven...hallowed be Thy name; Thy kingdom come; Thy...will be done on earth as it is on heaven...Give us our daily bread; and forgive us...our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass us...and lead us not into temptation, but deilver us from evil. Hail Mary, full of grace. Please Lord! Forgive me from my sins and crimes, I beg for your forgiveness and mercy!— I scream between moans, yelps and gasps. It felt more like I was praying at my husband instead of his God, it most likely was.

—See? It wasn´t so hard was it? You did good, darling— he says, repeting his comforting voice but now mixed with grunts and low moans.

He kisses my temples with sweetness, like he always did before every time after telling me he loves me.

Without warning I come undone again, I didn´t even feel it bulding up this time it just happened, making me squeeze around him as my hips move against my will at the same pace he´s moving.

—That´s it! My perfect whore doing just good!— he praises with a grunt, my orgasm helping him aproach his own, already close to it. —Now take all of me as I mark you as mine, be completely mine as you were always meant to be—. He comes undone, thrusting one more time and spilling his load inside.

He doesn´t get out of me, he doesn´t want to risk his come spilling out of me.

“Say she rail; why, I'll tell her plain She sings as sweetly as a nightingale. Say that she frown; I'll say she looks as clear As morning roses newly wash'd with dew. Say she be mute and will not speak a word; Then I'll commend her volubility, and say she uttereth piercing eloquence.”

✨✨✨✨✨✨

Dustin slammed the door as he got into Steve's car. (These kids, man. Where are their manners?)

"Steve, hey, look. I need you to do me a favor," he turned and looked up at the older boy who was currently fiddling with the dial on the radio with a concentration that could match El's.

"What?" Dammit, he needed to replace it soon. But he really didn't wanna go to his dad so it may have to stay busted for now.

"Okay, so just got bamboozled—"

"Bamboozled?"

"Shut up, practically trampled by these freshman—"

"You mean your classmates?"

"Yeah, whatever, anyway—these freshies wanted you do something for them. And—it's kind of like a big ask. But you owe me a soda anyway."

Steve was intrigued. Or, at least, mildly interested in whatever these freshman had to say. He hadn't befriended any other younger teens outside of Dustin's circle and had no siblings, so he didn't know how these kids knew his name. He was sure his 'King Steve' reputation died when he graduated.

"Okay? What is it?" He sounded... weary... of the details he wasn't even aware of yet.

It couldn't be too big, right? Like, these kids probably wanted him to drive them around or—

"You need to ask Y/N out so that they can ask her sister out to Homecoming. Her sister can't date anyone until Y/N does. I dunno, her family's, like, super strict or something," Dustin blurted out. Completely ripped off the band-aid.

Steve flinched back from the broken radio.

What?

...

What was he to him? Did he only exist to give into Dustin’s every needs and wants?

He wasn’t some kind of dating service or whatever the fuck.

 “Please? These kids are obnoxious as hell yet so popular somehow. They have not left me alone—I swear to God—since that dance was announced,” Dustin pleaded.

 He looked again at his younger friend. His dorky freshman and kid-brother figure in his life.

That... wasn't the most insane thing he's been asked to do, considering Dustin and the gang always got him into supernatural shit anyway.

How hard could this be?

Robin commented recently on how he's managed to go on a thousand dates every week. This is one of his main strengths in his, well, diverse arsenal of skills (using household items as demon hunting equipment was strangely a plus). If anything, it would be weirder if he didn't get the girl.

And, speaking of the girl, Y/N—she was a complete stranger to him. He could vaguely recall having junior year history with her... maybe it was chemistry? The more she didn't know who he was in high school, the simpler this would be and the sooner this would be over. He would take her on a date, turn on his trademarked charm, and be done with it.

Steve sighed. What did he have to lose, truly? It was just a stupid little favor.

Dustin looked hopeful... hopeful that this would stop those boys from pestering him. Steve empathized wholeheartedly.

"Alright, when do I ask her?" He started the engine and gripped his hands on the steering wheel.

—————✨

The girl in question was spending her time stocking shelves, sweeping the floor, helping customers find their items and then checking out their items. She planned to work at the Hawkins Art and Frame store for the year before studying at a small art school next fall.

She was currently bored at the counter, hand on her chin and forearm resting on the counter, re-reading a comfort book but not being able to focus on the story. Just skimming over the words. It was a slow day. Barely anyone came by.

The bell rang and she glanced at the source of the sound and movement. It was a guy who graduated with her from high school.

"Hi, welcome in," she called out in a light tone as she does to all customers of Hawkins Art and Frame. He nodded back and waved to her with a tight smile.

Oh god, not this jerk. She clearly remembers hiding herself in her notes or a book, trying not to get roped into the conversations of the popular group. She succeeded—they didn't bother her and she could live out her quiet existence in peace. She learned nothing deeper about them and that's the way she preferred it.

She looked down into her book, pretending to read. Literally just studying the texture of page, not comprehending any of the printed text.

The guy—Steve—wanders around the store, pausing at sections of brushes and paint, canvases and paper. Not that she's creating meticulous notes in her head of his store behavior or anything.

"Uhm, hi. I'd like to buy this," he lays down a single 2B graphite pencil in front of her.

"Alright, it'll be two dollars—"

"Two dollars? For a pencil?" She wants to let out a laugh, but she's a budding expert in the ancient art of keeping one's cool.

"Yeah—you chose an expensive brand, see?" She twists the pencil over to the side where the name is stamped into it. "And artist pencils are different from regular ones. This one is softer. It'll smudge more easily."

Steve pauses a second and decides whether or not he wants to go through his charade.

"I... sorry, I don't actually want to buy this," he runs a hand through his hair. "I came here because..." Why is he so nervous? The girl looks up at him with soul-piercing eyes, that's why.

"For a date." He manages to push out.

...why isn't she responding?

"A... date?" The girl is thoroughly confused. He nods his head.

"Yeah, I..." shit, shit, he was gonna kill these kids if he finds them. "I wanted to ask you on a date." This is far from the most embarrassing thing he's done yet it viscerally feels like it.

"I, uhm. Uh." The girl is blinking rapidly. Unsure if this is real or not. "Uhm. I don't know."

"You... don't know?" Why does he feel a bit crushed?

"I—I don't know you that well, Steve," she answers flatly.

That's fair, he thinks. He doesn't know her at all.

"Will you think about it?" Shit, he sounds too eager. Keep it cool.

"Uh." She looks up into the hope-filled brown eyes of one Steve Harrington. "Sure?" Is all she can genuinely give right now.

He gives her a thumbs up and speeds out the door.

She has a lot to journal about tonight.

—————✨

She does think about it. That part is truthful.

But—she doesn't think she'll accept the date request. The "I don't know" was a soft "no."

The girl rolls over on her bed, unable to sleep, brain too busy with potential scenarios of how this may play out. If she says yes and her parents allow it—if they don't even care—then what? She goes on a date and has a good time? Or she goes on a date and feels awkward and uncomfortable, leaving the both of them miserable?

Would her parents allow it? They sure haven't for her little sister, that bitc—kid she doesn't get along with.

But she was legally an adult now. They told her she's allowed to do anything she wants within reason.

If she says no and doesn't go on a date, life will be the same except she may hurt a dude (a guy who was pretty rude in high school, her conscience would insist—don't feel too bad).

If she doesn't show up at work and lives inside her bedroom, she would be able to avoid Steve long enough that he forgets her, but then she'd lose her job and thus her money for school.

She runs her hands over the comforter, playing with the loose threads. She hadn't considered why yet. Why would Steve want to take her on a date?

She struggled to produce an answer.

—————✨

 "Hey," Steve showed up once again to Y/N's workplace. In a cute yellow sweatshirt. With nice, fashionable, big hair. She even notices freckles on his face, but rapidly tries to erase that thought that out of her mind.

"Hi?"

"You? Me? Date?" He points at her and himself.

"Uhhhhhhhh."

"Y/N, you have gorgeous eyes," Steve tries complimenting her, realizing it was too soon as he speaks it. He internally smacked his head.

"Uh, I—thanks?" Y/N grimaces-smiles. She tried to keep it friendly, but unsure if what she wants to do in her head is showing up on her face. She's pretty sure she's not nailing what she's going for...

And Steve thinks the same with his moves.

"I just thought, 'man, I was wondering what Y/N was up to today, I'm so impressed with her art skills,' and I had to visit you," Steve wonders if he's hamming up his delivery enough.

"...How'd you know I make paintings?" Her face is showing disbelief. He was going for amazement and hopefully swooning but this is okay, too.

"I remembered—high school." Snap. Finger guns. "Miss Watson's sixth period art class. You were wicked in her studio. Complete genius. A real Picasso in there," aaaannnd that's the extent of his art knowledge. Picasso was an artist, wasn't he? He had Dustin go through his yearbook to figure out what extracurriculars Y/N did, though he did know that she had taken Watson's studio art class (Nance had it, also).

Y/N's eyes popped in recognition, but he took that as a good sign.

"I, uh. Thanks, Steve."

He smiled at that.

"But—why me?"

And the smile marginally dropped.

"I mean—you have lots of other girls dying to be with you, waiting for you to ask them, no?" Steve found it was harder to keep a friendly face. "Why don't you go look for them?" Someone who's actually interested in you, she wanted to add, but held back. It would be a bit too mean.

"Y/N, I'm really into you. Like, super. I mean—you're so artsy! And nice and cool. What guy wouldn't wanna be with you?" He's salvaging what he can from this dumpster fire he started himself.

That... did something in her. Something bad. Small, but bad. He could tell in the tiny downturn of her lips, the glimmer in her eyes. Did he say the wrong thing? He meant it as a compliment. He tried compliments this whole time. It's not working. Why isn't it working?

 She replied carefully, choosing her words like picking out a splinter. "Thanks, but... no, Steve... I'm sure you're used to getting 'yes' all the time. But. Sorry."

 He couldn't believe it. He blew at his best trait.

—————✨

 Steve re-told the story of his failed attempt to Robin, slicing out all of the bits about Dustin's favor. Robin didn't need to know that. She'd freak out and the plan would be ruined and Dustin would hold a grudge against him for a million years. He couldn't lose his only other friend.

And she was laughing. Snickering. Snorting. Hooting and clapping her hands.

"You complimented her eyes? That early? Outta nowhere?" Robin was holding her abdomen, stomach muscles hurting from the amount of laughter she was letting out.

"Yeah, yeah, I know—wasn't the best timing," Steve rolled his eyes, resting his hands on the counter of Family Video. "I panicked in the moment. Usually, I just... ya know," he waves his hands around, "smile and give girls the look, and it all ends up going good from there," he side-eyed his best friend.

"You dingus, that's why you have to learn something about her before you ask her out," Robin gave him a gentle shove.

"I don't know," he shrugged, "I panicked in the moment and-and it felt like I was slipping... she didn't join any clubs in high school. I had, like, only one class with her. I was so focused on Nance, right? I only knew she did art and that's what I told her," he lifted his eyebrows.

"You told her?" She teased.

"Complimented her. You know what I mean."

"Ooookay, have you seen any of her art?"

Steve was suspiciously quiet.

"Steve!" Robin scolded, swatting at his arm.

"I know! It's not working—my usual charm—not working..." He couldn't figure out why. He's usually in the clear at this point. He ran a hand over his face.

"Steve," Robin looked at him, sobering up, "maybe consider that not all girls are the same. Or that, you know, I can't afford to screw up if I like a girl." Steve nodded, eyebrows tilting. Grounded by the serious reminder.

"So... what do I do now?"

Robin looked around the video store, aimlessly at first and then—spotting the candy aisle.

"I have an idea, Harrington."

  —————✨

Y/N was sketching on her bed, Walkman headphones on. Her sister was throwing a fit to her parents in the bedroom next door (she couldn't go dress shopping with her friends if she wasn't allowed to go to Homecoming in the first place). She increased the volume dial.

She turned the paper around, drawing on the far end corners she couldn't reach without smudging. Thinking over the two encounters with Steve over the week. How (seemingly) spontaneous and strangely persistent they were. How it was Steve Harrington of all people.

But also noticing after the fact how... dorky he acted. Leagues away from his high school self. Finger guns? The thumbs up and dash away? She unconsciously smiled to herself, thinking of the mental images they created.

Huh. Maybe he had really changed after all.

Or maybe he hadn't.

With no reference point to the real Steve beneath the reputation, either in high school or currently, how could she judge him accurately? Or maybe the reputation was the true him, which was less of a chilling thought and more of a sad, pathetic one.

Still, neither the pity nor genuine curiosity into the layers of Steve wasn't enough to accept his date invitation. She lounged on her bed, covered by her pillows and blankets, surrounded by art supplies and snacks. It was a literal comfort zone, one she felt no desire to leave whatsoever.

Even if a... she wanted to roll her eyes at finishing this thought.

Even if a... conventionally attractive boy existed beyond its boundaries. (There. She could leave that in the open.)

 But some tiny, evil plotting part of her brain started thinking about what a date with Steve would be like. It conspired in the back of her mind, stubbornly lingering while her music and art distracted her at the forefront.

—————✨

It started with small things—her favorite candies, bookmarks from the used book store she shopped at, colored pencils. These little presents appeared on her work counter from time to time. At the very first moment, she was pleasantly surprised, but then it quickly became obvious who it was from, and her surprise turned into bitter acceptance.

Steve showed up more, hanging around her counter, even helping her when she had to restock items. He came as much as he could whenever he was off on his own shifts at Family Video. She tried to shoo him out and he respected that whenever she actually had customers to help, but for the most part...

He was here. With her.

Huh.

Okay, then.

She learned that he wasn't close to his parents (who were never home, anyway, he told her). She told him that she came from a big, nosy, tight-knit family. She learned that he was able to tell what kind of hair products people used (and later learned what kind he himself used). He learned from his own observations that she was a music and art snob, criticizing other people’s collection of cassettes and VHS tapes like her life depended on it.

 “Favorite movie?” she asked as they were both re-stocking the pencils.

“Back to the Future—I saw it with Robin when it first came out,” he chuckled to himself, remembering that night.

“Oh, your sister, right?” She recalled seeing her a couple times at Family Video. She had seen her maybe once in the frame shop before she knew Steve. She seemed like another artsy type, was kind of a band geek, she remembered, but friendly. They were cool whenever they passed each other in the halls or classrooms back when she attended Hawkins High.

“What? No! She’s not my sister.”

“Well sorry,” The girl put her hands up, “It’s just that… you guys look alike.” She shrugged. She insisted it was a fair assumption. She furrowed her eyebrows. “…Back to the Future? Really? You work at a video store. You don’t have any other ones?”

Steve was a little shocked by her boldness. He thought this girl was supposed to be nice, right? “I mean… The Karate Kid! I saw that one in the theater. Ferris Bueller? Ghostbusters?” He was getting weirdly defensive about his movie tastes.

“I liked Ferris Bueller also…” she conceded. “But that’s it?”

“What else would there be?”

“Uh, you’re skipping over entire genres and histories of movies. Not to mention international ones or experimental films. Or feminist films. Stuff like that. All of yours is kitsch,” The girl went back to sorting her pencil stock.

Steve was genuinely offended. He would have to look up whatever she said in the last part. He didn’t even know how to spell that.

“Well—which ones do you like then?” He asked just to ask. He was still recovering from his bruised ego.

“Next time you go to work, you need to look out for… actually, no, let me write you a list,” she stood up to go to the check-out counter. She pulled out a pad of yellow lined paper and a pencil. She scribbled down her list, but he couldn’t see exactly what she was writing from his angle.

“This is your homework,” she ripped out the sheet of paper and handed it to Steve. It contained a few movies he’d seen at Family Video (he recognized their VHS covers), but most of them were new names to him. Some of the titles were in foreign languages. French? Spanish? He sweated nervously.

  The girl had a couple siblings, including an annoying younger teenage sister. Steve pretended not to know that.

She observed that he morphed into a parent figure when he was with the young group of teens. She was surprised that he was close with one of them (the curly-haired one with the baseball cap. He even had a handshake with him).

The Steve she knew from high school wasn’t him. 

  "Let's go eat something," Steve tilted his head towards the storefront. The girl was closing her shift and taking off her apron and name tag.

"I should probably go home, Steve. What if my parents ask where I am?" She answered indifferently. Steve learned by now that it was another way of her saying no.

"You can say that you're eating dinner with a friend—a friend that can drive you and have you back before dark. C'mon, you live close here," he gestured to vaguely the direction of her house.

"You haven't met them in person yet," she bent down to grab her purse.

"Don't worry, I can charm parents, too," he grinned boyishly.

"Steve," she looked him in the eye, "you haven't been around immigrant parents and it's showing." She put on her windbreaker. "They're not like American parents—not so relaxed about the whereabouts of their children."

"Okay, but maybe I can try to ge—"

"It's like with my sister—they refuse to let her go to Homecoming, let alone allow any dating for her," Steve's eyes widened for a split second, heartbeat skyrocketed for one millionth. And back down.

"But you can try," she mock-smiled up at him.

—————✨

 "No shoes in the house."

"Okay," Steve wheezed out, following close behind her steps. He bent down to untie his shoes and leave them next to the door while Y/N effortlessly slipped hers off and kicked them under a stool.

"Y/N? YOU HOME?" Her mom called out from the living room. She was folding laundry on the couch while her grandmother was watching a TV show.

"YEAH! Steve, come on," she waved him in. He followed her and—she cringed slightly. She forgot to tell her family beforehand. But you can't prepare for spontaneity, she supposed.

"MOM I'M HERE WITH A FRIEND," she entered the living room.

"WHO'S THAT?" Her mom looked over just as Steve appeared in her line of vision.

He waved and smiled. In a very unusually stiff way, the girl noted.

"MOM, THIS IS STEVE," The girl crossed the room to give her grandmother a kiss on the cheek. Steve took a baby step into the living room, conspicuously out of his element.

"HI STEVE," her mom nodded at him. He nodded back, still with that nervous smile. He couldn't tell what accent she had.

Her grandmother said something to Y/N in a language he didn't understand. They laughed together and Steve felt like it was directed towards him. Not in a hostile way, but not in a way that included him, obviously.

Her dad appeared in the hallway, newspaper under his arm. He looked Steve up and down, then nodded. He disappeared into the kitchen.

"H-hi, ma'am. I was wondering if I could take her—I mean if we could eat dinner together. In a restaurant. For-for food." His voice cracked several times and was at a higher octave than usual. He gestured lamely to the door.

"YEAH, GO, GO," Her mom shooed them off.

"You're... letting me go out to eat?" Y/N was momentarily stupefied.

"YEAH," Her mom resumed her activities of folding towels and watching the TV.

"...okay. Bye, mom. Bye, grandma," Y/N waved at them, turning towards Steve, gesturing them out. Her grandmother and mother said goodbye to them.

The girl had a furrowed look on her face. "...would've never happened in high school," was what Steve was able to catch from her muttering. She shut the door and locked it with her house key.

"They liked me?" Steve was still in his meeting-the-parents-of-a-friend anxiety state.

"Yeah they did. My grandma even called you 'handsome boy.'" Y/N was annoyed by that for a current unknown reason. Though, she was equally amused.

Steve's face lit up like plugged-in string lights.

"Steve," she laughed in disbelief.

"I'll wear it like a badge of honor," he announced like he was knighted by the queen. She laughed and he thought it was a sweet sound—he wanted to hear that again.

As they walked to his car, Steve couldn't help but ask:

"What d'you mean 'never happen in high school'?"

"I... my parents would ask me a lot of questions if I wanted to go to a school event or a dance. Either that or I had to stand by a chaperone if I did. It was too tedious to answer the questions and embarrassing if I did go so I ended up not going to a lot of them.

"I guess... I guess I just got used to being a homebody. It was too much work to make the effort to go out, so why do it? It's also a lot more... my style being at home. I like my hobbies and it's convenient to have all of my stuff in one place and it doesn't require other people..."

"Hobbies like drawing. Your art," he supplied.

"Exactly," she looked up at him. He looked into her eyes for answers and found an emotion he couldn't describe. But he knew what it was. He felt it himself before.

It didn't matter that he was never good with words. He could feel, and he felt deeply. And that was the most real thing to him.

"Come on, let's go eat," she opened the door to the passenger seat and slid in. She tried to shake herself from that strange moment and try to get back to dull, impersonal normalcy. She was reeling from that discomfort.

So why did they both hold on?

—————✨

 The boys had many of these moments in their downtime. Meandering hangouts just for fun. If a monster had attacked Hawkins, this would be the stage where Dustin laid out his research and plans to strike back. But currently, Steve and Dustin were sharing a bag of chips and half-watching TV together.

Steve was finding it hard to stay present. His mind kept pulling him towards the girl. He was smiling idiotically, Dustin told him. He didn’t know until he was told.

“What’s wrong? Are you in love with her now?” he remarked sarcastically, grabbing the bag for himself. Steve froze for a second.

“I—no. No, that’s crazy talk, Dustin,” He tried to regain his composure after the kid ruthlessly snatched it away. But he knew that Dustin saw that he hesitated. He forced himself to look at the TV, knowing that all of his credibility would dissipate if he looked at him now.

Dustin was silent.

No, wait—that was scarier than if he was pelting him with questions.

He felt fear—fear that since Dustin knew that something was up, that made it unavoidable to him and his brain now, no matter how much he tried to shove the feeling down.

“…Steve?” Dustin asked in a menacingly slow way.

“Yes?”

“When did it start?”

He groaned. Caught red-handed. “Uhmmm…. Like. I dunno, man… two weeks ago? Maybe?” He ran a hand through his hair.

“Didn’t you say it’d be only one date?”

“I—yes! Yes, Dustin. I just. I haven’t taken her on a date yet—not on a real date. Just give me more time.”

“Steve, the dance is coming up soon. And it’s gonna be more complicated if you actually like the girl now.”

He knew that full well. Plus, she was going away to art school next fall and he would still be in Hawkins. He’d never done long distance before. He wasn’t sure he knew how. But—that was thinking way too far ahead.

He was positive she didn’t feel that about him.

But the way he felt about her. It was… jumping off a cliff but enjoying the feeling of jumping off and falling.

He chuckled at himself. Still no way with words.

It was like what he had with Nancy, once upon a time.

—————✨

 The girl received notes made from scrap pieces of college ruled paper—compliments on her outfits, inside jokes they had developed, and cheesy song lyrics from the Top 40 radio station. One time, she even received a mini review of one of her movie recommendations. It was a half-folded piece of paper with a crude drawing of three stars colored in with two left blank. She opened the paper. It said: “To be honest, didn’t understand it. Pretty neat I guess. The main guy was cool.” She smirked.  

The girl had a growing collection at home, stuffed into an old shoebox, hidden far beneath a suitcase in her closet that no unauthorized eyes could pry into.

Steve and the girl were growing closer as signs of the dance slid beneath her nose. Four of the freshman boys had asked her sister to Homecoming. She went dress shopping with her friends but Y/N was too preoccupied with Steve's newfound place in her life to notice.

Eventually, Steve asked her once more on a date and... she said yes. To her surprise, to his surprise.

 The girl borrowed a dress from her aunt. It was her favorite color and suited her own personal style. She did her hair and makeup in front of her bedroom mirror.

She looked like... she looked like one of those girls from high school. The ones that went out all the time and had fun outside of school. The ones who had a life.

But still a version of herself was still present with all of that.

It wasn't a bad look.

She told her parents and grandmother that she'd be out with Steve and they let her go with only a request to bring back some food.

 She opened the door and Steve was more dressed up than usual in a button down under his blue jacket and his hair in a style that probably took hours to do. She wasn't sure, but she swore his eyes lit up when he saw her in her date outfit. Cute.

The girl and Steve went to a small diner close by Family Video. It was 1950s themed with neon lights, black and white checker-board tiles, even a jukebox in the corner. They selected a booth near the jukebox so she could browse the songs while waiting for their order.

Y/N was aware that she was... enjoying this. She had a petty desire to begrudge dates (maybe it was the stab of jealously she felt when seeing couples fawning over each other in public), but she had to admit that this was nice: being with him in fancy clothes and eating a comfort meal while Ella Fitzgerald's voice enchanted them from the speakers. The colors blurred into a soft neon blue and pink. The other patrons provided a quiet background noise to their conversation.

They talked about their usual topics: plans for the year, funny and/or crazy things that happened that week, hobbies, stuff on their to-do list. Anything interesting that came to mind.

 "Ya know, I don't always get a 'yes' to everything," Steve looked up at her from his plate. "Remember when you told me that? That was like, what? The second time we talked?"

She nodded, mouth full from eating.

"I really. Um. I really haven't been... I didn't know I'd end up here," he fiddled with the straw in his drink.

"What do you mean?" she tilted her head.

"Here. I mean, working at Family Video with Robin or driving around Dustin. Uh, a lot of things didn't go the way I expected them to. I didn't always get what I wanted." He thought of his shitty home life, growing away from his high school friends who were all dickheads anyway, his relationship with Nancy, his college plans that didn't go through, and, most of all, fighting for his life in a pit of alien monsters. Just the typical growing pains of life.

 "But did you get what you need instead?" Steve was taken aback. Eyes wide. He started to shake his head 'yes'—

"Like me?" she pointed at herself with her fork. He huffed. Rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, like you," he laughed, "and like Robin and Dustin. Like... people I didn't know I'd end up friends with." He stirred around his drink with his straw.

"Glad you took a chance on us nobodies, I guess," she added sarcastically.

"Hey," he was firm, chiding her. "Hey, no, no, not like that," he barely shook his head. He was soft with his voice. His eyes told her everything—everything that she wanted to believe about him.

 He was so much of what she was not. Sure, she received lots of compliments on her art or high grades, but she navigated through the world in such an awkward, clunky way, one that contrasted so visibly to Steve's. She was afraid that she was committing an innumerable amount of missteps every single time she had to interact with anyone. She was guarded and tended to doubt people more than she trusted them. She couldn't just talk to someone without a rehearsal in her head.

He had an effortless facility at basic human interaction. At rare times, in moments when it was needed, he was earnest and serious, reeling in his usual gregarious personality back in when the time wasn't right. He made people feel seen. He made people want to be around him.

She liked him. She liked him a lot. He endeared himself to her every day and she had to pretend to be annoyed by him when it was the polar opposite of that. For what? To protect her reputation? To guard her own heart?

Y/N watched Steve look at other patrons. His eyes danced around the room, a soft contented look on his face. He called over the waiter and ordered a milkshake.

 The waiter came back with two straws.

 —————✨

 "I have to pick up Dustin after the dance," Steve told her as they walked to his car. She nodded, plastic bag in hand for her family's take-out order. Just a detour and then she'd be on her way home. But a part of her wanted to stay with him for the night.

There was something about the angle of the moonlight, the glow of the neon diner sign behind them. Something that... made her want to hold hands. She took a leap of faith.

The warmth of his hand. He held her hand. He made her feel special.

She was the only thing he could see, the only thing he wanted to see in this moment.

He softly placed a hand on her cheek to bring her closer to him. They were so close, she could almost feel it. Closer to him than she'd ever been to anyone before.

They kissed. And something released inside her—relief from the anxiety of holding herself back or the finality to the anticipation of this moment. She had no clue; she couldn't think right now.

She adjusted her face to fit better. Was she doing this right? Nope, no relief from anxiety. She was still anxious. This was happening and it was exhilarating and disorienting. But it felt good, so good.

They bumped noses accidentally and she could feel him smiling. She laughed, pulling apart a little. And then it was over.

 "I—" she took a deep breath. What was there to say after... that?

 "Do all of your dates feel like that?" she was talking with no mediation between her brain and her mouth. The kiss completely dissolved her filter.

"No," Steve's chest was heavy, his cheeks hot and hair wild.

She didn’t stop to think of the implications.

 —————✨

 He drove them to Hawkins High. They held hands in the car. It was nice.

 He parked the car and they walked towards the high school gym blasting a Cyndi Lauper track. Balloons and couples framed the entrances. It was like a tunnel to another world where she would be transformed on the other side.

“Heyyyyy! Dusty, my man!” Steve called out. Dustin arrived with his long, complicated handshake.

“And you must be the ravishing Y/N,” Dustin bowed in front of her. “Enchanté.”

“Quite the gentleman,” she laughed. “Nice to meet you, too.”

A couple of Dustin’s classmates zoomed by, clapping him on the back. She couldn’t pick up what they were saying exactly, but it was like they were congratulating him for something?

She scanned the room. The dance was a lot to take in. She didn’t remember what it was like to be at one. High school felt so long ago. The music, the mass of kids in the gym, the decorations, the lights. She took a couple unsteady breaths.

She recognized a couple of Bianca’s friends to the left of the room. They were standing to the side, drinks in their hands. She thought she saw Bianca for a split second but knew that couldn’t be true. It was probably another girl that looked like her.

In her searching trance, she wasn’t aware that Dustin’s friends formed a circle near her, chatting and enjoying themselves. She took it to mean they wouldn’t be leaving right away. She looked up to Steve—who caught her eye. He winked.

She shook her head, unable to stop grinning.

Someone bumped into her.

“Oh! Sorry!” The kid exclaimed. She turned around to see—

Bianca in a party dress.

 “Y/N? How—why are you here?” she was becoming infuriated. Her older sister was quite familiar with how these things went. “I just went to the bathroom and you appeared outta nowhere?”

“Bianca, how’d you get to the dance? Did mom drive you? How did mom and dad let you?” She gestured to her whole outfit.

“Mom let me because now you’re with Steve. I went with my group and some guys that asked me out,” She crossed her arms, narrowed her eyes at her older sister.

“What?” She let out softly, taking in this information that seemed impossible. She was asked to the dance? And by more than one person? Mom thought she and Steve were dating? She was mortified.

“God, you’re such a square sometimes,” she rolled her eyes.

“Bianca, we’re going home now.”

“Oh, you think you can make me? I thought you were into that whole artsy hippie boho thing. You need to chill, homegirl.”

“Wow, okay. When did you start thinking being an airhead was cool?”

“At least I’m not some loser brainiac.”

“Come on, we’re going now.”                                                                                  

“No!”

 “Guys, what’s going on?” Dustin rammed himself into their bickering. Steve looked over the kids with a concerned expression.

“I just need to get my sister home. I’d rather her have an attitude at home than here. Can you convince her to leave?”

“Hey! I’m standing right here! Hello??” Bianca pointed to herself repeatedly.

The whole crux of the plan—both of the girls—were here. Dustin’s eyes widened. “Uh—Steve?” he silently begged his friend to diffuse the situation.

“Besides, I have a date! I can’t leave,” Bianca defended her case. Dustin was guiltily aware that he’d been the one to enable that.

Bianca squeezed past them over to her friend group.

 “Y/N? I have something to tell you,” Dustin prompted nervously. She turned to face him. “I-I was the one who set it up. Some kids wanted to ask your sister out and I asked Steve to ask you out. I know your family rule.”

She just kept receiving more information this evening. She left Dustin’s friend group, slipped by Steve who called out her name, and walk-ran out the doors. She couldn’t think. She relied on pure muscle memory and brain mapping of the school to get away from the building. She hugged herself for warmth, left uncovered from the heat of the gym and bare to the October night. She took deep breaths, trying to escape this nightmare.

“Y/N!” Steve ran out from the gym to her. “Y/N, I’m so sorry. It’s crazy. I knew it was crazy. It’s crazy,” he tried to explain but it didn’t come to him like he needed.

“Steve,” she said in a defeated way. She laughed at the ridiculous situation. It was just her life now. "’If I be waspish, best beware my sting,’" she recited with a faux-acting hand motion.

“What?” Steve was genuinely confused.

“It’s Shakespeare.”  

“Why does this keep happening to me,” he remarked quietly to himself.

She laughed again, but it was tinged with a sour taste. He was adorable. He was so familiar now that it would be hard to let go of him.

 “Anyway, I gotta call my parents. Somebody has to pick me up,” she turned to go to the payphone.

“Wait—” but he knew he couldn’t end it with I’ll drive you home. He knew he majorly fucked up.

She stared sadly at him. She felt like she lived two separate days in one night.

A humble ‘bye’ was all she said to break his heart.

 —————✨

 After that night, the girl resumed her life as it had been pre-Steve. She went to work at Hawkins Art and Frame, drew pictures or read books at home, and took care of family errands.

 She was at work when Robin visited her out of the blue.

The girl straightened up in her chair and greeted her into the store.

“Hey, look, I’m so, so sorry that happened to you. That was so shitty of Steve and his kid friend,” Robin looked like she had run all the way to the store from Family Video. Some of her bangs were stuck to her forehead and she was inhaling air, making her raspy voice even more hoarse.

“I helped that dingus plan out all those little gifts for you. I was, like, his wingwoman ‘cause I thought he was really into you. And-and we went through the yearbooks to try to figure out what you liked,” she used her arms to steady her torso and panted.

“Hey, hey slow down,” the girl scolded. Robin nodded. She took a deep breath and continued:

“I found out that he was doing it for those freshman and I talked to him—I swear I did—I didn’t want it to hurt you,” Robin shook her head in emphasis.

The girl stared at her for a moment.

“Thanks, Robin. It’s nice to hear that. It's not your fault, though,” Y/N said impassively. She was understanding of Robin, of course, but her eyes dimmed at the mention of the incident.

“Listen—I’m gonna kick Dustin's ass and Steve's—both of them—but first I want you to know that he really did like you. He does like you. Present tense. He fell for you hard and he never believed that you would like him back,” she punctuated her sentences with hard gestures. Y/N lifted her head slightly, a small bit of hope sparked.

“Just—believe me. Or not. Whatever. I can’t control you.”

Robin took a couple more breaths. She pointed her thumb towards the door. “I’m gonna go get some water.”

—————✨

 Months passed by. The girl switched up her routine occasionally, but every day started to feel the same.

 Tonight, she was drawing in her room, Walkman headphones on.

 She thought she heard a thunk sound but couldn’t quite make it out from the music blasting into her ears. She ignored it.

Ignored it.

Ignored it.

Just ignored it…

Until the frequency of the sound increased. Was it trying to test her patience?

She lowered her headphones in gesture of blazing irritation and rested them around her neck.

Pebbles hit her window.

She walked over, moving closer to it. She drew the blinds open with more force than it required.

Her eyes lowered to—

Steve.

 She opened the window, a gush of wind blowing into her face and shocking her with its cold. Steve called out her name, elated to see her. He waved with both arms on the ground.

 She threw on a sweater and her slippers and rushed downstairs, opened the door, met him outside.

  “Hi.”

“Hey.”

“What are you doing here?” Y/N tried to sound accusatory, but it was more muted than she intended.

“I—,” Steve restarted his sentence a couple of times. “I wanted to see you. I had to see you.”

“You could’ve just called—,” she tried to undermine his plan, to push him away before he left her and she got hurt.

“I wanted to see you in person,” he looked directly at her. No bullshitting this time. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” His eyes gazed into her eyes. Her eyes, her beautiful eyes.

 What was there to say? Her hands were freezing, her legs were shaking. Her nerve signals were wide awake and she could only feel. She felt herself tear up against her will.

She moved closer to him and he pulled her into a hug. She relaxed under his embrace as if that was what she had always done. As if she always lived her life in his embrace. He held onto her tightly, trying to make her feel all his love with all his might.

“Sorry—,” she sobbed.

“Don’t apologize,” Steve’s voice was so gentle it almost hurt. So she shut her eyes and allowed herself to just be with him under the weighted blanket of the night. He held onto her for a while, rubbing her back and shoulders.

She pulled back.

“I-I just,” she wiped her eyes with the sleeves of her sweater. "That was really shitty of you. It was. And it doesn’t erase what you did but. But like…” She threw her hands down. “I don’t know… My life is different now and it’s hard to go back to the way it was before. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not.

“Like… all the stuff you did? Like those notes and candies and stuff? Like, no one’s ever done that for me. Never. I watched all the couples in high school do that or, like, I’ll see couples on the street and I’ll feel really lonely, like I’m shut out of something,” She sniffed and wiped her nose on a napkin from her pocket. “I wonder if those couples know how lucky they are are to have each other. If they really appreciate what they have or they just take it for granted and think nothing of it because I’ve been watching from afar and wanting what they have forever.

“And I’ve never dressed up and went out for a real date and stayed outside of the house when it was dark. I’ve never been in someone’s car alone with them. I had my first kiss with you!” She gestured towards him and laughed through her tears. “I can’t stop thinking about it, all of it...

“And-and Robin! She told me that you didn’t believe I’d like you back. Which is weird because I did. I don’t know how you couldn’t figure it out but I really did, Steve,” she shrugged her shoulders.

Steve’s face flipped through a arrange of emotions. His eyebrows were pulled together. He held her arms, ran his thumbs across the knitted fabric of her sweater.

“I—you’re a good person. You’re a lovely person. You’re strangely kind and helpful and charming and accepting. And I guess I was too stubborn to accept that because of the stupid little gifts you sent me or because you’re so easy to get along with and I was trying so hard to hate you. You’re so easy to love, do you know that?” She looked into his eyes with that same intensity he was so intimated by when he first met her.

He placed a hand over her cheek, smoothed over the curve of it.

She was incredible. It was way past time to tell her that.

He kissed her. It’d better the best damn kiss she’d ever received, he’d make sure of that.

He’d give her anything she wanted. He’d give her the world. He kissed her forehead and felt her laugh. He beamed.

But she shivered. He remembered he pulled up at a late hour and that it was nearly winter at this point. He took off his jacket and urged her to lift her arms up.

“What? You’re gonna dress me up like a little kid?” she crossed her arms and tried not to grin.

“Yeah! C’mon, let me take care of you,” he gently forced her arm into the sleeve and into the other one. His mom tendencies jumped out in moments like this—it was something she missed about him but didn’t realize until now.

They were back together, working in syncopation. Their little world was whole.

  —————✨

Next August, the girl was packing in her room, figuring out what was important enough to bring with her to her dorm. She folded piles of laundry and towels to stuff into her suitcase. She nestled a neon-colored bag of toiletries in the corner of the towels.

She paperclipped photographs of her family in a brand-new journal. She carefully wrapped photobooth pictures of her and Steve in some embroidered handkerchiefs, ones given to her by her aunties. Robin took polaroid photos of Steve and her goofing off in Family Video and she stuck those in her mirror frame. She took them off. She’d give those ones to Steve.

She paused. She found some old love song lyrics from Steve in her photo box. Back when the whole thing had first happened. She found his movie review with the hand-drawn stars rating.

She ran her finger over his handwriting, scribbly in blue ink but legible enough to her.

She would save that, too.

 She hugged her parents and grandma good-bye and pulled in Bianca for a side-hug. Her dad and Steve loaded her luggage into Steve’s car. The school was only under an hour’s car ride from Hawkins. Y/N remembered her cassette tapes last minute and rushed to grab them, preparing to force Steve to listen to her eccentric music taste.

 Steve and the girl kissed goodbye after moving her into the dorm. They held onto each other like they would never see each other again in this life, but really, it was just a drive on the highway every few weeks to her school. Yeah, he’d be a long-distance boyfriend, but he was gonna make sure he’d be the best for her. He promised to call and write.